ENTRY 1
FIRSTS AND LASTS
"Bella?"
I glance over my shoulder when the door gently opens. It's Edward, of course. Who else would even notice I was missing? Who else would know exactly where to find me?
"I'm fine. I just needed a minute." My voice only shakes a little.
He shuts the door to my old bedroom behind him as he enters. His eyes are worried as he crosses to the window where I stand, looking down on the wedding reception in the front yard.
My dad's wedding. Charlie is married, and not to my mom. I never thought I'd see the day.
Edward wraps his arms around my waist from behind me, presses his lips to the side of my head as he follows my gaze with his own. "He seems happy," he murmurs into my hair.
"He does." I sigh.
"Are you?" He turns me in his arms to face him, taking my left hand in his. His thumb plays with my wedding ring, his eyes searching mine. No one can worry quite like Edward. I stretch up and kiss him, soothing some of the ever-present concern etched into his face.
"You know I am. It's just...everything is changing."
He looks deep into my eyes, cups my cheek in his hand. "Not everything, Bella. Some things never will."
The mood in the room isn't one of those things. I feel it shift as I press closer and Edward's eyes darken. He clears his throat, takes a deep breath and a half-step back — not before I see his eyes dart toward my old bed, the one where we spent many hours cuddling without Charlie's knowledge.
Nothing more ever happened there. Edward wouldn't let it. He's still too much of a gentleman to initiate anything here in Charlie's house, even now, a year past our own wedding.
"The fireworks are starting soon," he tells me huskily. "I'm sure you don't want to miss them."
Ever practical, Charlie planned his wedding around the annual Forks July 4th fireworks display. They'll be visible from the yard. Free entertainment. It's so Charlie that it hurts. He's never changed. Not even when the doctor gave him six months to live — three months ago.
I whimper and find Edward's mouth with my own, pulling him toward the bed.
It's a different kind of fireworks I need right now.
He won't deny me. I know this. The moment he catches on to what I need, his hands are sure and steady as he carefully unzips my bridesmaid dress and leaves it puddled on the floor.
His outrageously expensive tuxedo shirt wasn't meant for the frantic way I'm tugging at the buttons. He removes my hands, takes control, and gives me everything I need on that bed where I spent countless hours dreaming, fantasizing, wanting exactly this. I hear the distant boom of the fireworks beginning as he slowly fills me.
One last first, in a house full of heartbreaking lasts.
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