Posted 2021-07-19; Beta'd by Eeyorefan12
Bella watched her spilled red wine spread out over the white tablecloth while several staff members nervously fussed over it. The stain resembled blood, and it was not the image she wanted in her mind, certainly not in Aro's presence. Despite her attempts to still her thoughts, her mind continued to draw out imaginary threads from the seeping color before her, weaving them into speculations that didn't seem so speculative. The carpet was the same color as the wine. Unlike the pristine white linen in front of her, it would hide bloodstains well. She wondered if it actually did.
A waiter draped a fresh napkin over her lap, and another offered her a new glass of the sanguine liquid.
"Thank you," she mumbled, and then, "Sorry."
"Wedding nerves," Sulpicia said, waving away Bella's apology and turning to bark at the staff in her native language.
"In English per favore, mia cara," Aro murmured, a note of irritation in his voice.
Bella looked down, trying to ignore Sulpicia's now more-comprehensible criticisms of her employees. She'd made the mistake recently of looking up some of the words the woman used to berate them and had come to the conclusion that ignorance might have been the better option.
Underneath the table, Edward squeezed Bella's hand in a gesture of support. She glanced at him, trying and failing to smile.
". . . if this incompetenza is what we're to expect during the wedding, then perhaps some of our staff"—Sulpicia looked menacingly at the head waiter—"need new positions."
New positions. It didn't sound like she was talking about someone's promotion. Bella thought again of the dark red carpet beneath their feet.
"Enough, Sulpicia." Aro's words were a warning. He seemed excessively irritated with his wife tonight, although Bella had made this observation more of late. The man's frequently-voiced terms of endearment often seemed at odds with the tone in which he uttered them.
But Sulpicia wasn't finished, apparently, rolling her eyes and continuing to mutter loudly in Italian, directing her words to no one in particular.
Aro suddenly banged his hand loudly on the tabletop, startling them all. "Silenzio! Non mettermi in imbarazzo!"
Bella was unsure where to look in the silence that followed. She felt Edward rub his thumb over the back of her hand and she nodded in acknowledgement of his signal for calm, reaching for her water glass. She heard Aro clear his throat but when she glanced up, she saw only his usual placid expression. Was he really going to pretend that he hadn't just told his wife to shut up and stop embarrassing him? If anyone should be embarrassed, it should be their host.
Sulpicia transferred her glare to the table-top, picking up her glass of wine and frowning as the staff reset the table. Witnessing her abrupt silencing, Bella thought it was rather like watching a dog brought to heel.
"As I was saying, Bella," Aro said, twirling his wine glass by its stem and completely ignoring the awkwardness in the room, "you Americans share this tradition with us. Have you given any thought to who might give you away at your wedding?"
Edward's fingers clenched around hers almost painfully, and Bella startled. She wondered what had precipitated his reaction. "Um," she began, "well, we're already basically eloping, so—"
"I think, Aro," Edward interrupted, looking apologetically at Bella, "that we'll have enough ruffled feathers to smooth out when we get home. Given that that particular honor belongs to Bella's father, I'd rather not have to add it to the list of things for which I'll need to apologize. It's already rather long."
Aro's throaty chuckle sounded very knowing and very dark. "Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission and be denied. Well, as you've said, you'll already have to do that on one front, having stolen the man's child."
Stolen. Bella couldn't quite get past that word. She'd been so angered by Aro's suggestion that she hadn't even stopped to consider the full meaning behind what he'd said. She eyed Sulpicia, whose faraway gaze distanced her from the words and feelings at the table and, undoubtedly, the brutal feelings her husband must inspire.
He treated her like a dog.
And she behaved that way: viciously.
Hurt people hurt people.
It was perhaps the simplest expression of a psychological truth that Bella had ever encountered—at Harvard, or elsewhere.
"Will you walk down the aisle by yourself then, Bella?" Aro asked.
"I suppose so." She was still chewing over the idea of being possession enough to be stolen or given away. The idea of her father holding such a provincial view of things was so ridiculous, it made her want to snort out her wine.
"You've arranged for attendants?" Aro asked Sulpicia.
"Of course." Her tone was subdued.
"Good." Aro did not inquire as to who those attendants would be. Bella wondered that herself.
God, please let them not be the people from the party.
The wait staff appeared with dinner. Bella pretended great interest in her food, hoping that she would become less central to the present conversation.
No such luck.
Aro dabbed his napkin against his mouth. "Oh, Padre Matteo called, Edward. He'll be coming to prepare you both tomorrow."
Prepare? She gave Edward a nervous sideways glance.
Sulpicia emitted a most unladylike snort, giggling into her wine glass. "Do you have much to confess, Bella? You look a little worried. I'm sure his penance will be light, given your impending marriage."
"Bella's . . . not Catholic," Edward said.
And you are? Bella thought. This felt like a rather major oversight in establishing their fake relationship credentials.
Of all the things that would make Aro and Sulpicia stare at Bella, not being Catholic was not one she would have guessed. With the looks they were giving her, she might as well have shat on the floor.
Aro seemed truly unsettled by this disclosure. "You are . . . baptized, Bella?"
If I say no, do I get to leave?
Alive?
"Um, no. My mother was opposed to my being baptized as a child."
"Well, Padre Matteo will remedy this tomorrow, then."
When Aro turned to talk to one of the wait staff, Bella shot Edward a questioning look. He shook his head only slightly, indicating that they would need to talk later.
Dinner was unusually brief with their hosts, and Bella wondered facetiously if her unsanctified state had something to do with it. If so, she rather wished she'd disclosed her heathenry much earlier on.
"I'm going to take a bath," she announced to Edward, as soon as the door to their room was closed.
"Mind if I join you?"
She decided that Edward was having far too much fun playing his part and making her blush.
"Aren't you a bit worried you'll have to confess that tomorrow? Or something?"
With a wicked grin, Edward pulled off his tie and looped it behind her back, using it to pull her close. "If we do anything in the bathroom that I need to confess, I'll consider the ten Hail Marys completely worth it."
It wasn't fair how much he could make her cheeks turn scarlet.
Edward pulled her towards the bathroom with his tie while she giggled at him, releasing her once he closed the door. He started the bath, sitting down on the tub edge and patting the spot beside him in invitation
Ah, time for the nightly "debriefing". She sat down next to him.
"There were a lot of land mines to navigate tonight," Edward said. "You did really well, Bella."
She pretended to shrug off the compliment, even though his approval made a little thrill run through her. "Well, when one begins a meal by dumping one's wine over the entire table, it's only uphill from there, right?"
Edward chuckled. "Oh, I don't know. I thought Aro's performance was the low point."
"Which part? Reprimanding his wife and pounding the table for emphasis? Or maybe it was when he suggested that I'm a possession that can be given away or, God forbid, stolen. Does this guy even live in the twenty-first century?"
When Edward didn't say anything, she turned her body to look fully at him. "He was joking, right?" she asked him. "Because if you're supposed to ask my dad's forgiveness for marrying me—"
Edward cleared his throat, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. "Uh, yeah. That could be weird but . . . that's not what Aro was referring to."
She looked at him quizzically. "Then what?"
Edward ran a hand through his hair and met her gaze, his eyes full of something like contrition. "If your dad ever did find out about all this, I would definitely owe him more than an apology. Aro knows the circumstances of our first meeting. Technically, I did steal you, Bella."
Oh.
Neither of them spoke for several long moments. Bella felt momentarily at a loss for words. With all that had happened recently, the night in the alley, and even the week that followed had somehow faded so far into the back of her mind that she had to work to dredge up the specific memories. Even then, the anger and fear formerly attached to them had faded. With all that she had learned about Edward, she realized that she was finding it hard to continue to blame him for the rest of his choices, knowing why he had made them. It pissed her off that Aro had thrown that in Edward's face tonight. As far as she could tell, everything he had done since they'd met had been to set things right.
That included protecting her, no matter the personal cost, even when it included going through with this sham of a marriage and finding a way to make it look real.
Well, no time like the present.
"So, um, Catholic huh?" she asked, breaking the awkward silence.
"So, um, a heathen, huh?" he mimicked.
She laughed, but it faded quickly. "I guess until tomorrow." She bit her lip.
Edward shook his head. "No."
"No?"
"I've broken enough commandments. I don't want to add perverting the sacrament of faith to the list."
His faith was important to him. Interesting. Another piece of the Edward puzzle.
"But"—Edward rubbed his neck—"there is something the priest will ask in counseling us that you'll need to say yes to." He looked rather nervous about this.
"Which is?"
"He'll ask you to agree to raise our children in the church."
She laughed, slapping the side of the tub a bit too hard. "And here I was expecting something much, much worse. I promise I will raise any children"—she made air quotes around the word—"we have as bean sprouts if need be."
"Bean sprouts." He rolled his eyes. "So what were you expecting?"
"I dunno. Participation in mob justice?"
"What?" Edward's forehead wrinkled.
"You know, with pitchforks?"
Edward tilted his head to the side, still looking confused.
"Like in the movies. You know, when there's a mob of people with torches and pitchforks, usually with an angry priest leading them on, hell-bent on destroying whatever monster, witch, vampire, et cetera is ravaging the local town."
Edward blinked at her, feigning confusion. "Sorry, you said you went to Harvard?"
"Oh, shut up," she said, whacking him playfully and pointing an accusatory finger his way. "You asked."
He shook his head and scoffed, "Pitchforks."
Bella dipped her hand into the bathwater, adjusting the temperature slightly. When she looked back up, Edward's expression made it clear he was being serious again.
"The priest won't be marrying us either," he said.
"That's not the impression I got from our hosts."
He laughed derisively. "Yeah, I'll handle that. Untangling a marriage based on deception and blessed by the church would be much more complex . . . and also a sin. And, if we're being blunt here, a pretty damn good reason for my mother to kill me."
"Ah, yes, your mother seems so very likely to commit infanticide." Bella rolled her eyes.
Edward shook his head. "Trust me. She'd kill me for eloping. I don't want to know what she'd do if I had to have a marriage annulled or set aside."
"So," Bella began, "if the priest won't be marrying us, why the counseling?"
"That's something Aro set up without my knowledge. There's no reason not to do it, at this point. I'll just tell Father we'll do a civil ceremony here but we want the sacrament performed in my home parish, with our families present, okay?"
Bella nodded, though she knew there was still a wrinkle in her brow.
"Besides, refusing to be counseled—that would probably set off some red flags about our commitment."
"Sure," she said absent-mindedly, letting her mind focus on a new concern—an even greater one, to her way of thinking.
"What?" Edward asked.
"What, what?"
He chuckled. "I can see you worrying, Swan. What's on your mind?"
"It's just, they—Aro and Sulpicia, I mean—they seem to have accepted that we're happily getting married this fast without any questions. I know you're going to talk with them about having the religious ceremony at home, but I wondered . . . won't they think this is weird? Us not even trying to involve our families? Are you sure Aro believes we're not just doing this because of your conversation? That we actually want this?" She eyed him. "Or am I just overly paranoid?"
Edward shook his head. "No. If there was any doubt of our commitment to this, we wouldn't be here to have this conversation."
Yeah, that isn't chilling at all. She shuddered.
Edward noticed, because of course he did. "Bella, it's okay, really. I did talk to Aro again today and I thanked him for rushing us into this."
What the hell?
She knew she was openly gaping at him when he chuckled and shook his head again. "Sorry, I didn't have time to talk to you before dinner. But I took the opportunity to assure the guy that he was right—that the sooner I tie you to me legally, the sooner we can all relax. I figured stroking his ego a little at the same time couldn't hurt."
She didn't mind admitting that he was probably right.
Then Edward smirked.
"What else?" she asked, sighing.
"Well, I suppose they could think there's another reason to be in a hurry. When Aro pointed out that we weren't sleeping together I did tell him you wanted to wait until marriage. Maybe he and Sulpicia just think you're horny." His smirk became a grin.
Bella rolled her eyes as he laughed, and she tried to pretend she hadn't turned tomato red, focusing on the slowly filling bathtub. Have your fun, Cullen.
"Anyway . . . can I ask you something else?"
Was it her imagination, or was his tone conciliatory? Not that she dared look at him and risk further embarrassment. "As long as you don't belittle my Harvard education." She poured a vial of bath salts into the water, closing her eyes and inhaling the smell. The lavender aroma reminded her of her mom.
"Why didn't your mom want you baptized? As a kid?"
At least this topic wouldn't make her blush. She looked at him. "Well, she wasn't religious herself, and she felt it should be my choice when I was old enough to decide. Dad didn't care one way or the other, though I think my paternal grandparents were a bit offended." She shrugged.
"Interesting."
"How so?" She prickled a bit at the vague response, anticipating criticism. She'd faced enough of that before from classmates who were less than kind about their religious judgments. Dipping her hand in the water, she moved it back and forth, watching the tiny purple crystals swirl and dissolve.
"It's as much of a choice for a child not to raise them with a religion as it is to formally school them in one."
"No argument from me there," Bella said, marginally relieved. Look at us, civilly discussing religion. Next up: politics.
The bathtub was deep and the faucet slow. It was only a quarter full. Edward didn't seem eager to leave.
"The way you describe your mom makes her sound . . . kinda eccentric."
Bella chuckled. Edward's description was very diplomatic. "That she is, to put it politely."
Neither of them said anything for a moment, the whoosh of the water filling the space between them. It felt . . . peaceful. She thought about that for a bit, wondering what it would have been like to meet Edward another way. If there would have been—if there would have been what?
These feelings. This pull, this . . . desire for more.
Edward seemed to be staring at something on the wall. With her head turned towards the water, she could see him in her peripheral vision. Yes, she had feelings for this man. She more than liked him. She felt . . . peaceful with him. Calm. Safe. He was fun, too.
And damn good looking.
Almost as if he felt her watching him, Edward turned his head and caught her in the act. She was relieved he didn't call her out but made an observation instead. "With what you've said about your mom, I guess I'd expect you to be . . . hmm, less shy. Talking about physical stuff, I mean."
Physical stuff.
Sex.
She laughed nervously, the blush rising easily in her cheeks. "Yes, she called me her 'little adult' when I was growing up, and she took a very—um, progressive?—attitude towards discussions of things that . . . I was not ready for at the time. I think she thought that if she talked about sex often enough, I'd get more comfortable doing the same but, um, it didn't work, and it was—well, no teenager wants to hear anything that might relate to that part of their mom's life. Her method kinda backfired. Now I'm pretty much conditioned to be embarrassed, blush, or stammer every time it comes up in conversation."
Like . . . right now.
Edward hummed thoughtfully and then smiled gently. "So, I guess this is one of those awkward first-date conversations you have to have with guys you go out with. Like, 'we can do stuff, we just can't talk about it'?"
Relieved that he hadn't made fun of her, Bella laughed and shook her head. She'd been the butt of enough jokes with friends who didn't understand her bashfulness. Then there was that damned Human Sexuality class in her junior year. But Edward's kindness and consideration were steady. She could count on them.
He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, a gesture that made her shiver. "In our family, those conversations were treated pretty seriously. Early on, my Dad tried to scare me into lifelong celibacy with a couple of his medical books"—he grimaced and pretended to shudder—"and nearly succeeded. But my mom was the one who talked to us about it, mostly. She was good at making us comfortable by being that way herself." He chuckled. "Not that the serious tone around those conversations seems to have stuck—certainly not once Emmett entered the picture."
"But you were in the military. You must've heard that stuff all the time."
"Not as much as you'd expect. But trust me, Emmett puts most of those guys to shame."
Bella giggled. "Rosie must love that."
He laughed. "Hell no. The guy crosses a few lines sometimes but never around Rosie . . . or my mom, for that matter. He's not stupid."
Edward glanced down at the water level in the tub. "I'll get out of here and let you have your bath."
"Don't you need to have a shower or . . . something?" She was thinking of the camera in the room but she dropped her own gaze briefly to the bathtub as well.
"'Something', huh?" He grinned slyly. "Sometimes I think you're handing me these opportunities on a silver platter, Swan."
She rolled her eyes, though she did so with a blush.
"Catholic my ass, Cullen."
DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.