Rosalie's POV

"Emmett, you're never going to believe this." I was panting as I threw open the door because I'd run up the stairs with the mail in heels.

"Well aren't you the best looking thing I've seen all day," Emmett called from the fire escape.

The window was open and Emmett was sitting with a laptop in his lap and a leather notebook at his feet with scrawled notes and a pen in his mouth. Janis Joplin was playing on record and I tried to catch my breath as he took the pen out of his mouth, smiling a thousand watt smile.

I set my keys down on the counter, kicked off my heels, dropped the rest of the mail in the tray and started unzipping my dress.

"If you're going to do it, just close the window." Vera said with a smirk.

She was laying on her back on the tile of the kitchen floor in just her underwear, a baby bump barely starting to show on her thin frame. She was busy reading a book that might as well have been "Having Babies for Dummies" and guzzling water in front of the box fan she'd just bought.

It was a record hot June in New York, which explained why we were all in our underwear. Needless to say, we didn't have air conditioning…

This month was hot. Red hot. My career was on fire, my relationship was on fire, my life was on fire, and everything was right with the world again.

Vera and I had talked, cried, hugged and all of the above over again. I'd told her I was here for her no matter what, that we were family, and family never leaves each other…

She was my family too, and she was afraid to be alone. Vera had decided to keep the baby, and I couldn't have been happier for her. But, I had a feeling she had partially decided that for me. NYCB hadn't renewed her contract for the fall, but she had been hired to teach ballet at a small studio in Harlem and she took a job scanning student IDs at NYU for health insurance. She was going to be fine.

Alice had left a couple weekends ago and had become one of my very best friends again. We talked almost every day, and I noticed her relationship with Emmett start to get better too. It made me wonder about everything that happened over the past few years and why they seemed to have a wedge between them when she came to New York. She didn't open up to me about anything like that, but she told me she and Jasper were engaged but that it was still a little bit of a secret. I swore not to tell a soul. I knew about secrets. She still didn't know everything, but I felt like I could trust her and love her. I'd missed her…

That whole "Lily" thing blew up for about a week, but it was long buried under the new news cycle per my request and I didn't have to worry about Alice or Emmett's mom or too many people finding out. I sighed a sigh of relief, even though Tanya kept trying to push me to make the most of the publicity. That's just not the sort of publicity I wanted.

Emmett had quit law school for good, and finally found something he genuinely loved to do. He was writing regularly for The New Yorker, and for every two economics or politics articles he turned in, they let him write one page-turner for the books and fiction section. Emmett had to get another job of course, and he was actually doing something financial for this tech market intelligence platform that I didn't really understand. His heart was far from in it, so I didn't feel bad that we never talked about what he did every day.

He was working hard on his short fiction story entry for the Great American Fiction Contest for the Saturday Evening Post and I had a good feeling about it.

He was absolutely born to write for the Saturday Evening Post, and I knew he felt a lot was riding on this short fiction. He knew most publications he spoke with only wanted him to write about economics, politics and social commentary. He was very good at it, but he had to really prove himself as a fiction writer.

That's what he truly enjoyed, and I could see the fulfillment in his eyes each and every day. This fulfillment in his career really did make him a better man, and I started to take him to every historical literary spot in New York City that I could think of to show my support. We shared a booth at the White Horse, drank whiskey at Chumley's, visited the Blue Bar in the Algonquin Hotel where The New Yorker was born, sat across from each other at Bemelmans Bar, put down some cappuccinos at Caffe Reggio, danced the night away in speakeasies, laughed as we rode the Central Park Carousel, and ate bagels outside of Tiffany's.

We had so much fun on our adventures around the city, playing tourists and tracing the steps of literature's greatest. We were having the relationship we were always meant to have. We were dating.

Bella was getting married in two weeks and I was obligated to be her maid of honor so I'd been trying to throw myself into helping her with last minute planning. I actually almost enjoyed myself, though it was odd to imagine that I'd be returning to Washington tonight for the very first time since right after prom.

I had never been one for traditional, but when Emmett and I sat near an old couple in a jazz club one night, I kind of started to think I could get married. I shook the idea of course, but it still took me by surprise that I was actually disappointed leaving the Rose Club of The Plaza not engaged when he planned this elaborate day to celebrate our careers and our "future" whatever that meant.

I knew he'd told me that's what he wanted, but did he change his mind?

I had plenty of work to distract me from the absurdity of my thoughts and I couldn't paint fast enough, for all the work I was getting. I was an artist. I was a full-time artist and I wasn't starving! A British fashion designer, Mary Katrantzou reached out to me to work with her on a collection and create some prints with her.

I was booked to fly to London in August for a couple of weeks and I was thrilled. Another hotel chain commissioned a collection of contemporary art for their lobbies, my name was in ARTnews, and I'd gotten invited to speak at the School of Visual Arts as a guest lecturer. Life. Was. Beautiful.

Perhaps my favorite project though was something Zafrina got going with me, Vera and her dance partner Sergei, Emmett, an up and coming fashion designer named Sarojini that was just turning seventeen, a jazz pianist named Francisco that I definitely hooked up with my sophomore year of college, a filmmaker named Heath, an actress named Emma, a singer named Ronnie, and a graphic designer named Milo. Zafrina called it her "Works in Progress" gallery and she only chose artists under 25, as she also affectionately called us works in progress as well.

The concept was beautifully interesting and we would all come in, set up in different areas of the gallery and start well, doing what we do in private for an entire audience. Zafrina would sell tickets to the gallery like for a performance and people would walk through as we brainstormed, threw things together, edited, added, subtracted, dug for inspiration, trashed and started over.

Yes, we'd come with a few finished works already to be auctioned and showcased, but what Zafrina saw as the real art here was the process. Vera and Sergei would be choreographing an entirely new contemporary ballet duet, Emmett would be writing poetry, Sarojini played around with starting with sketches and constructing a few pieces of clothing, and me, I still had no idea what I wanted to do yet, but luckily we still had a month before the show.

Zafrina had to rush us all because of Vera. She had found out she was already close to three months pregnant… Obviously she'd be showing too much before too long.

I climbed out the window onto the fire escape.

"What am I not going to believe?" Emmett moved his laptop. "How you're my girl?"

I giggled, pleased as I positioned myself on his lap, a knee on either side of his waist. His eyes were on fire and he took a long, deep breath as he looked over me.

"No, not that." I bit my lip, tossing my hair over my right shoulder, flirtatiously.

"Well, I still can't believe it." He kissed my neck, his breath on my collarbone sending a chill down my spine.

"It's actually unbelievable." I said, sitting back and producing the invitation to a 'High School Sweethearts Couples Shower' for Bella and Edward complete with a description that said it would be a 'throwback' party with music that was popular at the time and to dress up if we wanted.

He took it, his eyes dancing over it.

He laughed so hard it shook me on his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck to steady myself.

"I'm sorry." He was still dying laughing. "Is this fake? This has to be fake."

"I called Bella while I was running up the stairs. It's 10,000% real and she was super offended I thought it was a joke. Apparently some of her nursing school friends thought it would be a 'cute' idea." I confirmed, a goofy smile on my face.

"I don't believe you," He leaned forward, still chuckling as his forehead touched mine. "Did I miss April Fools?"

"It's June, Emmett." I laughed.

"I'm speechless." He leaned back his elbows on the steps.

"Apparently some people actually enjoyed high school." I shrugged.

Then, I remembered he was one of those people.

"Why can't it be a middle school themed shower?" Emmett exhaled jokingly. "Then you could wear that adorable headgear."

He bit his lip, cracking himself up. I looked at him, mouth agape.

"I will kill you." I laughed, putting my hands on either side of his shoulders, leaning over him to try and playfully intimidate him, and quite honestly drive him crazy.

"Window. Closed." Vera called naughtily, and I noticed she hadn't even looked up from her book.

Emmett pulled the window closed with his right hand, wasting no time tangling his left hand in my hair as he pulled my lips down to his.

"You're going to drive me wild in those baggy overalls you always wore." Emmett teased.

"And the combination of that letterman jacket and your unshakeable arrogance just made me weak at the knees." I jabbed.

He pulled away, laughing.

"You thought I was arrogant?" He smirked, those dimples just about killing me.

"Oh yeah, of course." I shrugged, not sure if I had actually hurt his feelings.

"I thought you were difficult and brooding." He laughed. "Do you remember how many times you fought with our history teacher in tenth grade about the misogynistic focus of the Washington history curriculum?"

"It is misogynistic to completely disregard entire pieces of history just because of a female-centric storyline!" I gasped.

"I agree with you so much that I even wrote an article for my school paper about it my last year at Oxford." He put a hand on either side of my waist, his eyes serious, but the corners of his mouth were turned up like he was fighting a smile.

"I'm still difficult and brooding…" I finally caved and he laughed kissing me quickly.

Every time he kissed me it was like the very first time. My body was on fire.

"Wait, you were working! I'm sorry." I pushed myself off of him, really trying to respect that we had different work hours. "Don't let me distract you."

"Too late," He smiled, that look in his eye as he kissed my neck, his hands wandering.

"Stop. Stop. Stop." I half-heartedly objected. "Work."

"Okaaaaay," Emmett groaned, leaning his head back on the steps, exasperated. "You're killing me."

He tilted his chin down, a jovially tortured look in his eye.

"Just picture me with headgear." I winked and climbed off his lap, even as his hands traced on my legs as I moved.

I bent to pull up the window, but he was behind me, wrapping his arm around my waist to pull me back.

"Rosalie…." He sighed. "It's not working."

"Well, if you're not going to write, are you packed?" I tried to stay focused as he kissed my shoulder. "We leave in four hours. So that means we need to get a cap in an hour and a half."

"I just need some inspiration," Emmett said, trying to sound serious.

I smiled, but couldn't let him see that.

"Em, that worked the first 47 times you told me that, but it doesn't work anymore." I couldn't conceal the smile in my voice.

"You caught me." He sighed, defeated.

"But we will be staying in our respective parents' houses the next two weeks like a bunch of children so we might as well…" I loved torturing him.

"Don't remind me." He huffed, his countenance changing completely.

"What is it?" I pushed.

"Nothing. I just can't believe you talked me into flying back with you so early."

"I told you, I've never been inducted to the mile high club." I bit my lip suggestively, wanting to return to the previous subject.

"Oh yeah, that's how you got me to agree to this." He laughed, kissing my cheek, brushing his fingers through my hair.

"So will you please pack?" I asked.

"I'm already packed." Emmett shrugged.

"Well, I need to shower," I turned to pull the window up, but Emmett did it for me.

He smiled that charming smile, and my heart skipped a beat.

"After you," He gestured me forward like a gentleman, but I could tell he wasn't thinking like a gentleman and I tried to stay cool as he picked up his laptop and notes and followed me inside.

Emmett made me weak at the knees. He made me feel like a teenager, unsure and like I hadn't done this before or something. I half-smiled.

He set his things down on the counter then scooped me up from behind playfully carrying me through the living room. I was giggling, my heart in my throat.

"Will you at least turn the music up?" Vera flipped another page and I dramatically groaned, letting her know how much of a burden this was to me.

She looked up only to wink at me. Emmett let me down long enough to turn the knob on the record player, 'Piece of My Heart' filling the room. I saw only him; He saw only me.

He picked me up again, this time my legs around his waist, my arms around his shoulders. I giggled, blissful as he pushed open the door, closing it behind us. He kissed me, passionate but sweet, not disconnecting from me as he turned the water on. I shivered, hoping he wouldn't notice. He placed his hands under my thighs, and I tightened my legs around him, tangling my hands in his hair.

Having his hands on me was something I could never get used to, even though it was the most natural thing I had ever experienced. Being with him felt like second-nature. My body was made to be his and his to be mine.

I felt the water on my back, and I tilted my head back as he brushed my hair off of my neck and set me down on the tile in front of him.

My heart was pounding against my ribs. The way he looked at me made me want to explode into a fireworks show.

When the water ran cold, and our steam ran out, we were two and a half hours into a plane to Washington walking back to our seats, everyone's eyes following us.

"Everyone's staring." I said under my breath as I avoided eye contact with this woman that was hardcore judging.

It was no secret what we'd just done in the bathroom.

As we slid into our seats, I couldn't help but chuckle at the expression on the old man's face across the aisle as he went back to his book, ducking his head.

Emmett was smug though, a smirk on his face. I pulled out some headphones, untangling them as I plugged them into my phone.

"Could you please not make your face so easy to read?" I whispered under my breath and he just laughed as I put my headphones in, scrolling through Spotify.

I knew we only had a couple more hours on the plane and then we'd be back in Washington. I didn't think about how long it had been since I'd been back. I didn't think about how much had changed. I didn't think about how much I'd changed.

I hadn't seen my dad in four years. I hadn't been in my old room in four years. I hadn't been in Forks in four years.

I paused my song.

"I haven't slept alone in a long time." I breathed, and Emmett looked up from the book he was reading.

"I slept with Vera when you weren't home."

He just nodded, not knowing how to respond I was guessing.

"I just don't know if I can." I finally said.

"Do you want to stay with me?" He finally asked, his expression blank for once.

I stopped to think for what seemed like a very long time.

"I should stay at home." I turned back to my Spotify.

"If you need me…" He began, but I started my music back.

I noticed my knees were bouncing and my hands were busy. I was nervous.

Thank God Bella was picking me up from the airport. The one piece of normalcy I would know.

"I'm scared." I finally told him, taking my headphones out.

"What makes you scared?" He closed his book, giving me his full attention.

"I… I don't know I guess I'm just scared of remembering things I don't want to remember."

"Rosalie, you have to grieve in your own time in your own way." He knew I was talking about my mom without me having to say it.

"When I found out she was dead, I wasn't really… sad I guess because she'd been gone to me for two years. She was already gone, but I… I just don't get to visit her anymore." I narrowed my eyes, feeling my forehead crinkle.

"You can still visit. You can talk to her. She's on the hill, under the Dogwood tree. It's a beautiful view." He said softly.

"You went to her funeral." I said, not asking, stating.

He nodded.

"Thank you." I whispered.

He brushed my hair from my face, smiling softly as we began our descent.

"I love you." I finally said.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Washington."