All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property to the respective author. The original characters and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer (and the motion picture Savages). No copyright infringement is intended.

AN: To the pre-readers, Brina and Dee, thank you for everything you do!

*All the mistakes are my own.

Chapter Thirty-Three

I don't know what to do right now. What I'm hearing, my name said with that voice, discombobulates the reality I've accepted as mine. Every bit of me wants to believe that my boy is outside my window, but if I'm wrong, then it will destroy me.

Another tap and another, "Bean?" but then it expands when I don't respond, "Fuck, baby! I know you're in there. Open the window; I need to talk to you." He sounds muffled as if his face is pressing against the glass.

I'm too shell-shocked to move or even breathe. The only thing signaling I'm alive is my restarted heart. It's beating fast, and there's intense pressure against my chest. I hurt so much and desperately ache to stop a pain that has grown and festered. It takes one action to end it all. I get the feeling in my limbs and the courage to part the curtains. Everything appears to be in slow motion. My brain is running a mile a minute as the fresh adrenaline pumps in my veins. I can't stop the shakes in my hands. I'm an alcoholic, going through with withdrawals, about to down the whiskey glass in one gulp.

The heavy drapes move aside, and I see the side of Edward's head leaning against my window. He has his eyes closed and looks like he's sleeping. I gently touch the glass with the tips of my fingers. The surface is cold and hard. My boy seems unreal, and the logical part of me assumes his likeness is a mirage. As if, I cried and wished him into appearing. That's why I don't say anything and enjoy the view before it evaporates.

I don't count the seconds that pass, but it isn't long before Edward turns toward me. He meets my gaze through the inch of glass. His eyes are greener tonight, and as Edward shifts, rising to his full height, the gold in his irises more pronounced, but that's not what takes my breath. The last time I saw him, he was clean-shaven with his head buzzed down and had this underlying happiness. That is no more. He's paler, almost sickly, and his eyes are tired, underneath them are a deep purple. His clothes beyond a hipster wrinkled, and he's let his hair grow out. It's a lot redder than I expected it to be, and it's poufy, too unkempt. In the last few seconds, his hands have gone through it four times.

My boy is no longer the straight-laced Sailor, but a burly, beaten down man, with a beard that's three months old.

Even so, he's perfect.

"Bean," he says, and attempts to smile, but it's fragile. "Can you open the window?"

I unlock it and push up. It creaks too loudly for my liking, and my thoughts go straight to Charlie. If he were to walk in right now and see Edward in my room, all the months I'd put torture on my boys and myself would be meaningless. I should tell him to go as he climbs through the window. I need to tell him he can't be in my room as he stands close to me. I have to keep my promise to Charlie.

We have a deal.

"I shouldn't fucking be here," Edward says to himself and forcefully puts his hands through the chaotic mop.

It's so hard to do the right thing.

"Hi," I say quietly and fight off the urge to throw myself into his arms.

"Hi," he says, and scans me, head to toe. Then his focus is concentrated on my hair. He grabs a strand between his fingers. "You're not making Charlie drive you to Francesca?"

"Definitely not." I laugh, but it sounds bizarre to my ears. I haven't laughed in a long time.

Edward doesn't let go of my hair and only steps into me closer. "You look good this way." He sighs. "You smell good too."

The longing for him grows, but things between us are complicated. My boy appears wounded and a dim shade of himself. Now that I've gotten a better look at him, I can see he's lost weight.

My leaving caused a destructive ripple.

How do we heal from this?

God, if only I could kiss him, but I gave up that privilege.

"You smell good, too," I whisper.

He shakes his head and chuckles. "You've always been a terrible liar."

"Edward," I say, and my idled hands find their grasp on his shirt. However, my eyes are too cowardly to keep their gaze on him. "There's so much I want to say to you. I'm so, so sorry for leaving. I didn't want this to happen. I've messed up with you, and you'll never forgive me. If I could take it back…"

"Hey, hey, ssshh." He interrupts my rant by grabbing my face and forcing my head up to look at him. "None of that shit matters." Then he sees the pain wash over me as his unanswered texts come to mind. "Not anymore."

I sag and melt into him. "I miss you."

Edward squeezes his eyes shut and puts his forehead to mine. "You have no idea."

We stand there, barely holding each other, but our hands are in a death-grip, afraid to let the other go. The loud thump of feet hitting the wood floor in the adjacent room rips Edward from me. Charlie's awake, and he's staggering around. Shit! Fuck! Okay, I relapsed for a second, but now the fun times are over, and I need to get back on the wagon.

"You can't be here," I say in a whispered panic.

Edward stumbles as I shove him back into the window. There's a loud bang. I cringe and hunch my shoulders. Charlie's going to hear that and decide to investigate. I shush Edward, and we both go still, our ears focused on every minuscule sound in the next room. There's a flush of the toilet, then stumping of feet, and a whine of the bed as Charlie throws his weight into it. We listen a few seconds more until it's only our breathing.

The coast is clear.

I sigh with relief. "Edward…"

He knows what I'm about to say and rushes to stop me. "Yes, I fucking know about the deal you made with Charlie. I was pissed and determined to cut it off for good. How dare you make that decision for us?"

A painful tightness erupts in my throat as my lungs constrict and make it hard to breathe. The fear of Edward hating me is no longer a guess, but a stated reality.

I withdraw from him and nod. "Understood."

He grabs both my arms and yanks me back. "Don't do that shit! Don't pull away from this, Bean."

"But you hate me," I say.

"Did I say that? When did I ever fucking say that?" He's yelling at me but not raising his voice. His eyes, so exhausted and wrecked, but not angry. My boy lets his body slack as he gives up. "I can't sleep. Not one fucking wink. When I do manage to sleep, the nightmares torture me. I'm losing my mind without you."

"Oh, honey." I stop overthinking every move and fling my arms around his waist.

Edward doesn't push me away but holds me closer, and with each breath, even tighter. The heaviness of his need for me is crushing more than my ribs. It's the guilt of my endless self-loathing. All these months, I felt sorry for myself and only thought about how this breakup affected me. It never occurred to me that Edward would be hurting this badly.

"I wish you would have called and told me. I would've been there…" I start to say, but the sudden tremble of his body catches my attention. Edward lets out a gut-wrenching sob as he buries his face in the thick of my hair. I fucking die a million deaths. "Oh, God, baby. Shit! I'm so sorry."

He draws me closer as his cries become more intense. I'm trying to console him, putting my fingers through his long strands, and saying how much I love him. Each time I say these words, he shudders and claws at the thin fabric of my shirt.

This broken man isn't the same Edward I left on that brisk day in March.

"Hey," I say, and attempt to disentangle myself, but he refuses to release me. "Baby, let's just…" There's a sudden panic in my boy as he squeezes and constricts my lungs. "Babe," I grunt.

Edward shakes his head. "No, I'm not fucking leaving, Bean."

"I don't want you to leave," I say, but it's more like a gasp. Edward's compressed our bodies together and only tightening his grip. "But…you…gotta…let me…breathe."

The light bulb goes off in his head, and he lets me go. There's an embarrassed chuckle as he wipes the tears from his cheeks. "Sorry."

"No, don't be." I take his hands and pull him over to my bed. "Come here."

Edward follows and doesn't fight me. He gives me a weak, relieved smile as he kicks off his shoes and pulls off his shirt. We climb in and sink ourselves in to the twin mattress. It's barely big enough for me, so we're smashed together with our limbs interweaved. It's a strange feeling, being one-half complete again. I've been drowning for so long, and now that I can breathe fully, it is disorientating. Edward caresses the side of my face, and we don't speak. It's not necessary. The stress creases that were on his forehead are smoothing out, but his swollen, red eyes tug at my heart.

There's no way he'll survive another three months.

"I don't know how to make this right," I say. Even though having Edward here in my bed and feeling his breath on my face makes everything seem possible, I fear all the time we put in will void and reset. "I want to keep my promise to Charlie, but we can't keep going on this way."

He ghosts his fingers over my lips. "Let me handle, Charlie."

"No!" I shake my head frantically. "He can never know you were here."

Edward narrows his eyes. "What do you think will happen? Did you think your deal with him will fix all the shit he put you through as a kid? What was the end game, baby?"

I sigh and give a defeated shrug. "I don't know."

"If you're unsure why you're even here, stop this bullshit and come back home."

It's a tempting offer, but I fear the doubt would reprise. The underlying issue of abandonment needs resolution before we can move forward.

"When we were in Mexico, I started thinking about our future," I say.

Edward's eyes are drooping, but he's fighting to stay awake. "You didn't see me in it."

I hate that it's not a question. My boy knows my fears, and that frightens me.

"I want you in it," I say to avoid judgment.

"Buuut…" he says, drawing out the word and gently tickling my sides.

I giggle and nudge him away. "This is serious."

"Bean, listen to me, very closely," he says, sliding his hand into my hair and getting a firm grip. "You're it for me."

"You're it for me," I say back, but my voice is shaky, there's a lump in my throat, and I'm on the verge of crying.

"Then that's that," he says and yawns.

"That's that," I echo.

I watch as his eyes close, and it's quiet for a long time. The coward in me waits for him to fall asleep. That's when I drop my bomb. "But you don't want babies with me."

Edward barely moves, and his lips are on mine. We kiss all too briefly before he's pulling back and smiling. "You wanna bet?"

()()—()

I awake to find myself alone in bed and confused. The remnants of Edward's touch still tingle on my skin, but it feels too unreal. It must have been a dream. It seems impossible that he would come through my window and confess how lost he's been without me. My Sailor's strong-willed, not one to give in to emotion, and trained to suppress it regardless of inner turmoil.

Sitting up, I raise my arms over my head and stretch out my muscles. There's a smell of eggs and bacon in the air. My eyes shoot to the clock on the nightstand: 12:05 pm. What is this, brunch? It's unlike Charlie to cook anything, but this late into the day is a little more than suspicious. I'm not eager to investigate, and I would rather binge-watch OA. It's just my stomach has growled a hundred times now.

Getting dressed and pulling my hair back, I quickly scan my room, looking for any signs that Edward was here. The window still shut tight and locked. No one is hiding under the bed, and my closet is a messy representation of my life. I check my phone, but there's nothing here. I let disappointment wash over me. As vivid as the dream felt, it wasn't real. I will have to trudge on for another three months. What sucks the most is that I can't even confess this dream to Dr. Sinclair in our session today. Charlie would accuse me of breaking our deal. That's how ridiculous my dad is these days.

I take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on my face. "Here we go."

As I open my door, the smell of blueberry pancakes knocks me back. There's a flutter in my belly, and it has nothing to do with being hungry. I listen to the multiple voices overlapping in the dining room. I can make out and distinguish each one. There's Charlie, and he's talking about The Chargers. He's excited about their draft pick this year. Then I hear Edward. He's disagreeing about their pick and wanted another guy, whose name I don't know. The last voice to chime in convinces me I'm hallucinating.

"I'm betting on the 49ers to dominate," he says.

I'm slowly rounding the wall to enter the dining room, and there they all are, Dad, Edward, and Jasper.

I gasp. "What the fuck."

All eyes turn to me, and I can't move.

Charlie does a smile and half-shrug.

Jasper jumps up from his seat to grab me a plate.

Edward approaches me with caution. "It's okay," he says and leads me to the table.

I sit down with my hands in my lap, and I'm pinching myself to wake my ass up, but all I feel is pain.

Jasper comes around and places his famous pancakes in front of me. "Blueberry topping and extra whip," he says, and I look up into his blue eyes. "Just the way you like them."

"Thanks," I whisper, and my fingers skim his face. He's not as burly as Edward is, but there is a few weeks' worth of stubble. Jasper isn't a vision but fucking real. "Holy shit."

He chuckles and places his hand over mine. "Holy shit, indeed."

I avert my gaze to the pancakes and stare at them with lost confusion.

The world around me goes quiet as the previous conversation between the three men comes to a halt. The silence drags on, and I know they're waiting on me. What am I supposed to say? I was barely getting a handle on Edward sneaking in last night and falling asleep in my arms. What I want more than an explanation is this moment to be true.

"Well, um…" I start to formulate words, but when I see my two loves and dad staring at me, all thoughts wiped away.

"How about we start," Jasper says.

Charlie nods and clears his throat. "Good idea."

I cock my head to the side, fucking stunned. Not only are they in the same room and not killing each other, but my dad also agrees with my boy. What dimension is this? Have I died? I have no way of logically wrapping my head around the situation.

"First of all, I gave Charlie our word: we would honor the six months, but…" Jasper says, giving an accusatory gaze to his right.

Edward smirks and winks at me. "I fucked up."

"Yes, you did." Jasper sounds like a disapproving father.

"I had my reasons," Edward says simply and looks down at his plate.

Jasper breezes by that and addresses the questions already formulating my head. "Dr. Sinclair reached out to me a few weeks ago."

"You spoke with our therapist?" I turn to look at dad, and he does another shrug. "Did you know about this?"

"Yes, and believe me, I didn't like Dr. Sinclair reaching out to the men I believed were bad for you, but Bella…" Charlie's expression is pained. "You weren't eating, baby. You were barely talking to me, and all you would do is sleep. I refused to admit the obvious depression you were going through. Dr. Sinclair told me I'd lose you if I didn't clear this shit up."

"Why didn't you tell me, dad?" I want to yell at him, but the voice is weak, and the tears are brimming in my eyes. "You said nothing this whole time? You just…let me rot."

Charlie scoots his chair closer to me and grabs my hands. "I didn't want to give you false hope if this experiment of Dr. Sinclair's failed. This issue wasn't just between you and me, Bella. If you knew I was talking to Jasper, you would go running back." I nod and sniff, telling him, 'You're damn right, I would.' "But we all needed the six months to work out our issues. It wasn't an arbitrary timeline."

I snag my hand back and fold my arms over my chest. "So how long have you all been talking?"

Charlie looks to Jasper. "About two weeks," he says.

"I wasn't part of these talks," Edward says. He's smug and as stubborn as ever. "Not until today."

"Why just today and not then?" I ask but know him well enough to know his answer.

"Because I was mad at you for leaving, mad at Jasper for allowing it, and wouldn't hesitate to kill Charlie on sight."

Dad chuckles and gives Edward a playfully punch to his arm. "In your wet dreams, Sailor."

My head jerks back at their friendly interaction.

Have I've gone through a wormhole in the last twelve hours? This reality isn't mine.

"Anyway," Edward continues, now struggling to put his words together. "Long story short, I went off the grid, and here we are."

I like how he keeps our moments between us.

"And how did this happen?" I motion at the table filled with breakfast food.

"Late this morning, I hear a knock on the door, and there's Edward. He wanted to talk, so we went out for a couple of beers," Charlie says. "Jasper met up with us later. We went over our differences, decided you're the one that mattered and came to an understanding."

"I thought you were at school, Jasper," I blurt out.

"I let him know about my decision to come over," Edward says and eludes that only us three know my boy slept with me last night. "He advised me not to."

"We agreed six months," Jasper says, and he's trying to prove to dad that they were trustworthy.

"I didn't agree to anything," Edward says coolly.

Charlie senses the tension between my boys and jumps in to defuse it. "The point we're all trying to make is that our deal is off."

"What? Do you mean?"

"Yes," Dad says with a gentle smile.

I was free to see my boys anytime I wanted.

"Are you serious?" I leap to my feet, ready to throw myself into Edward and Jasper.

"But I still want you to live with me until you're eighteen, Bella," Charlie says.

"That's a deal," I say, and change direction, throwing my arms around him instead. He hugs me back. "Thanks, daddy."

Charlie nods and chokes out, "You're welcome, kiddo."

()()()

Dr. Sinclair jots down a few notes as Charlie, my boys, and I sit in front of her. The therapy sessions will continue for the rest of this year. Even though a small part of the heart healed, it's only a fraction of the issues, and cutting it short could cause it to flare up more significant than before. Jasper joked that it was like not finishing a cycle of antibiotics. I liked that analogy. It made sense.

On the other hand, maybe it was my life starting to make sense.

"So, I see Edward finally agreed to join us," Dr. Sinclair says as she tilts her glasses down on her nose and assesses him. "The very core of the matter."

He sits up and leans forward. "Sounds like you're blaming me, doc."

"And what if I am?" she says. "What would you say to that?"

There's disbelief in his forced laugh. "I would say you're full of shit. I had no hand in Charlie being a shitty father."

Oh, here we go, I think and look to dad, expecting a full-on fight, but he stays quiet.

"The problems between Isabella and Charlie are a separate issue. This session is about all four of you and the strained dynamic," Dr. Sinclair says.

Edward scoffs. He doesn't believe in therapy and has been through the wringer. The military tried to treat his PTSD and insomnia a few years back but ended up shoving medications down his throat. It only made him more irritable and suicidal. It's not surprising when he responds with opposition. "There was never a strained relationship with Bean. All this conflict started with Charlie and his inability to accept the men his daughter loves—that's the relationship that needed fixing, and that's why our girl left us."

I expect him to turn that anger towards me, but he takes my hand and gives it a comforting squeeze.

Dr. Sinclair doesn't skip a beat. "That may be true, but you did let her leave. Besides her father, Edward, you're the only man that Isabella wasn't sure about, and you don't fight for her?"

Jasper clears his throat. "That's not entirely fair. Edward didn't want to force her to stay. Bean wanted to fix things with Charlie. We both knew how important that was to her."

"I made up my mind by that point," I add, glancing between my boys, their eyes fixated on me. "Jasper tried—even begged me, but he couldn't make me stay."

"What did Edward say to make you stay?" Dr. Sinclair asks and looks down at her notepad, her pen poised to write.

"He didn't say anything," I say, but regret it. Edward sees my panic, easing my fear with a gentle shoulder nudge and smile. "He left the house before we had a chance to talk, but I knew he was upset. I had to give him time."

Charlie doesn't say a word, but he's watching the interaction with my boys. Does he see how much we love each other? I hope so. Not too many people want to see this relationship succeed.

"Want to know what I see?" Dr. Sinclair asks, but it's a rhetorical question, and she doesn't wait for us to respond. "You sought to fix your relationship with your father, not because you were uncertain about Jasper's feelings, but because you were uncertain about Edward's feelings."

I shake my head but can't argue.

She continues. "If you had to choose one, you would choose Jasper. He's safe, leads with an open heart, and acquiring his love takes no effort. You would never have to risk getting hurt with him."

"That's a simplistic view, Dr. Sinclair," Jasper says, his tone less than friendly.

"Isabella is a simplistic girl," she says, and her eyes meet mine, now seeing how her cold, clinical words are attached to a real person. Dr. Sinclair softens a little. "Edward's heart is harder to capture. He puts a wall between himself and the people he loves. Isabella, being as young as she is, and this being her first serious relationship, would see his aloofness as proof that his feelings were not as strong. Not only that, doubt a future with him. She assumed the uncertainty came from her fractured relationship with Charlie. 'If I'm worthy enough for daddy to love me than Edward would too.'"

There's a key point she's missing, but otherwise, her assessment is accurate.

I raise my hand.

She chuckles and points her pen at me. "Go ahead, Isabella."

"But I was wrong, wasn't I?"

"How do you mean," she says.

"It wasn't my fractured relationship with Charlie that needed fixing." I brush the hair from my face and try to keep my focus on her. It's nerve-wracking to have four sets of eyes on me. "Of course, it was important, but I could've done that while living with my boys, it was their relationship," I gesture at Edward, Jasper, and Charlie, "that needed mending."

Dr. Sinclair nods. "Yes, I can see how their hostility towards each other would cause strain on you. When they were at odds, how did you feel, Bella?"

"Lost," I say, but that doesn't even scratch the surface.

"And now that they're getting along?"

I bite my lip to hide my cheesy smile. "Found?"

The room gets super quiet, and then it erupts in laughter. Even Dr. Sinclair can't keep the amused smile off her face.

"I knew she was going to say that," Jasper says.

"I hoped she wouldn't say that shit!" Edward shakes his head at me.

"Don't look at me. Bella gets that level of cheese from her mother," Charlie says and throws his hands up in a mocked surrender.

I bury my face in my hands to hide the redness in my cheeks, but even as embarrassed as I am, my chest swells with happiness.

()()()

Laguna feels different now.

Sure, some things are the same, like the beautiful seventy-two-degree weather or the waves' blissful crashing in the distance. What I especially love is the air mixed with the smell of tacos and fresh lime. The one thing that's changed is Charlie. When I announced after our therapy session that Edward and Jasper were taking me to dinner, I expected a lecture from Charlie or a snarky attitude, but the opposite happened.

My dad smiled and said, "Have fun." He hugged me tightly and then turned to my boys and shook their hands. "You better get her home by eleven."

"Yes, sir," they said.

How could things turn around this quickly and dramatically?

I understood that Jasper and Charlie had been speaking for weeks, and Edward knew about these talks, but less than twenty-four hours ago, life for me wasn't as hopeful. The black cloud of depression hung over my head and rained sadness into my soul. My boys were gone, no contact whatsoever, and things felt never-ending and permanent. I was ready to lie down and let it smother my last breath. So, excuse me if I'm having trouble believing any of this is real. I'm completely lost and out of practice. This dinner feels like a first date, and I can't decide what to wear. Several times, I reach for my phone to call up Rose but think better of it.

I need my boys to be mine for a few more hours.

In the end, I settled on an off the shoulder blue-lace romper.

When the boys pick me up around six-thirty, I expect to see the same men who left me three hours ago, but they've cleaned up. Edward is back to his buzzed head and close shave. Jasper's got rid of the stubble and left his mustache and goatee neatly trimmed. They look so good. I don't play it cool, hopping and dancing a little in the living room and letting out an excited yelp.

Charlie pokes his head out from the kitchen and laughs. "Take it down a notch, Bella."

"Sure thing," I say and wave him off with a flick of my wrist.

The sky is a light purple when my boys pull up in the Camaro. Jasper stays behind while Edward comes and gets me. I'm swinging the door open before he has a chance to knock. He smiles but immediately thrown off when I jump into his arms. Somewhere behind me, Charlie's groaning and regretting his decision to let them back into my life, but I don't care. The dam was broken, either get to high ground or drown, dad.

"Hi!"

"Hi, baby." Edward shifts my ass up to get a better hold on me. He cranes his neck to kiss me, but a large, intrusive clearing of a throat interrupts him. Edward looks behind me and gives a head nod. "How are you doing, Charlie?"

"Just dandy," I hear dad say, but it's dry and dripping with sarcasm.

Edward turns back to me and smirks. "Maybe we take a down a notch."

The similarities between Edward and my father not lost on me.

"Maybe you're right," I say and slide back down to my feet.

Charlie looks grateful that the PDA stopped. "You're curfew is at eleven, Bella."

"And not a minute sooner! Bye, Dad," I say, and close the door. As we walk across the courtyard toward Jasper, I can't help but ask. "Where are you lovely boys taking me?"

Edward rests his hand on the back of my neck to show his ownership. "Take a guess."

I grin because there is only one place they've been promising to take me. "Studio!"

"You told her?" Jasper accuses as he greets me with a hug. It feels good to be in his arms again, but it's still a little stiff and tense. We're both unsure of ourselves. Then he smiles in the most authentic and Jasper way possible. "Let's bounce."

()()()

Studio is a restaurant in Laguna that sits on the edge of the Pacific. It's pricey, and I've wanted to go for a while, but it's hard to get a reservation. Jasper worked overtime to get us a table on the patio. The candlelight set the mood, and the primo wine had my boys and me feeling comfortable, looser. I ordered the beef strip loin. My boys like the swordfish. The meal was grand, opulent, and every morsel was rich, flavorful, and succulent.

Jasper pours the last bit of wine into my glass. "Avoir fini."

"Merci," I say, and a giggle slips out. I'm not a drinker and calling me a lightweight is an understatement. "Maybe I should stop. The first night back with my boys, and they get me hammered. Charlie would not be happy."

"That's a good idea," Edward says, letting the server know as he walks up with another wine bottle that we're finished. "We'll take three lattes."

This responsible call comes from a guy who was the catalyst and the igniter of all my bad decisions. Now he's cutting off my wine and checking his watch, making sure we don't go over my curfew by one second. It's sexy, this strict and goodie-two-shoes side, but I miss the rebellious part of him.

"You're a stick in the mud tonight, man," Jasper complains.

Edward's face doesn't reflect one thought or emotion. "You want to fuck this up?"

My boys have me wedged between them. They both have a hand rested on my bare thigh. Occasionally, they'll test the waters by letting their touch wander north. I like the intimacy, possessiveness, and the way their eyes follow my every move. Everything right now feels complete. Even their bickering soothes me. After spending only a few hours immersed in warmth, refuge, and bliss, I don't know how we survived these past three months.

"No, I don't want to fuck this up—in fact, I'm the one who worked his ass off to get our Bean back. Where were you? I didn't see you doing Zoom conference calls with Charlie and Dr. Sinclair."

"Wait!" I sit up suddenly and cock my head to the side. "Dad knows how to work Zoom?"

Jasper's irritated expression softens. "He's getting better."

I sit back in my seat, but the sudden movement makes the world spin. "Whoa."

Yeah, I had too much to drink.

"You're right," Edward says, and there's no hostility or disrespect, just gratitude. "Thank you."

Jasper's defensive response flattened. "You're welcome."

"Hold up!" I'm shocked and a tad bit drunk. "Babe, that's it? Where's your fight?"

I do enjoy it when they squabble.

Edward chuckles and throws his arm across the back of my chair. He leans close and whispers into the curve of my neck. "I'm tired of fighting, tired of being angry, and tired of sleeping alone."

I bit my lip at his insinuation. "And how do we fix that?"

"That's a great question." He moves away, leaving an unwelcoming chill that wafts over me, and inclines towards Jasper. "What's our time?"

He pulls up his sleeve and takes a glance at his watch. "Eight forty-five."

Edward signals the server over. "Can we get the check?"