A/N - oops missed a day yesterday, sorry.

Revelation upcoming! Love to know whether it's something you surmised, or a complete surprise...

I swigged my coffee as we walked slowly up the street, and side-eyed Edward. He was looking at me too, and I slid my eyes away.

'Sorry,' I said eventually.

'What for, ma belle?'

I raised a shoulder. 'Over-reacting I guess. I'm not used to…' I sought the word. 'Attention. And I don't like surprises.'

'Well I'm sorry for telling Carlisle,' he said. His slight smirk gave him away.

'No you're not!'

'You're right,' he said, still smirking. 'I'm not at all.' Then his face became serious. 'Bella, surprises can be good. I want to show you that, today, by being so good to you.'

There was nothing to say to that, so instead I reached up and hugged him, then dropped little kisses across his cheeks, his chin, and finally his lips.

He grinned. 'Finished your coffee?' He disposed of both our cups then grabbed my hand. 'Come on, this way.'

His stride was longer than mine, and his pace fast, so I had to break into a jog to keep up. 'What's the rush?'

'No rush,' he said, darting an impish look at me. 'I just don't want to waste a moment of our day.'

It hit me that I didn't, either, so I broke into a run, until it was me pulling him along. 'Where are we going?'

He gained on me, his hand tightening around mine. 'We're starting with breakfast, of course.'

As he steered me towards our destination, I took guesses.

'A restaurant or cafe?'

'And incur Carlisle's wrath for fraternising with the enemy? No!'

'Breakfast under picnic blankets on our bench, again?'

'Nope,' he said. I wrinkled my nose. 'You're disappointed?' he added curiously.

I felt my face heat. 'That's where we first…. Y'know.'

He stopped walking to bend down to capture my lips. 'First did this?'

'Mmmhmm,' was all I could respond.

Once we were walking again, I recognised the direction suddenly. 'We're going to your place?'

'We are. I've got breakfast set up in my room.' My heart quickened at the thought of Edward's room. Edward's bed. Last time we were both exhausted, physically and emotionally, but now we were full of energy. And it was my birthday... 'If that's okay?' he added quickly, misinterpreting the look on my face. 'We won't be disturbed.'

'It's fine,' I murmured.

The staircase leading up from the garage was now also serving as his bookcase, with a pile of books on each step, resting against the wall. It made the climb up to his studio somewhat cramped, but once inside there was more space. He'd set up a small patio table and chairs and it was already laid with two place settings.

'Petit déjeuner pour deux,' he said softly, helping me take my coat off, then hanging it on a hook on the back of his door and holding out a chair for me. 'I'll be two minutes, okay?'

He rushed back with a tray, loaded precariously, which he placed on the bed before filling both our plates. Small French pastries - croissants and pain au chocolate and something with almonds I didn't know the name of. A bowl of cherries. A glass of juice each but also two steaming mugs… hot chocolate, I identified, from the scent.

The final thing he passed me, bashfully, was a single pink rose. Then he ran both hands through his har. 'Is this cheesy? It is, isn't it.'

I didn't know if he meant the flower in particular, or the whole French breakfast set up. 'It's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me,' I croaked. 'Thank you.'

He beamed and dropped into the chair opposite me. The table was so small that our knees were pressed together. It was perfect.

Edward spoke in French, slowly and clearly, as we ate, and encouraged me to, as well. I was too shy initially, aware that whilst my vocabulary was decent, my accent was nothing like his. But he was so delighted with the word or two I first managed that I kept trying, until eventually we held an entire conversation about our favourite foods in French. Then he told me about where he'd lived in Paris - a small apartment that his Mom had inherited, he said. She'd let it out as a vacation rental before that - and again now, he said, swallowing. Now that he was back home.

I examined him intently. His lips had more colour than usual, from the cherries or all the kissing, or a mixture of the two. But his eyes had lost their usual liveliness, as they always did when this subject arose.

'What?' he asked - in English, which was good because my French was not good enough for this conversation.

'You know what,' I said. 'Tell me, Edward. Tell me why you came back.'

He nodded, then rubbed his face, then nodded again. 'My…' he stopped and cleared his throat. 'It's my mom. She's sick.'