Posted 2021-08-02; Beta'd by Eeyorefan12

Edward was gone when she woke up. This wasn't unusual, she told herself, but it was hard not to fret. If he had kept to his habits, he was out for his regular morning run.

Not long after she slipped out of bed, there was a knock at the door. When she opened it, one of the room attendants was there with a wheeled serving cart topped by a large, silver tray heavy with glassware and plates. She stepped aside as he wheeled it inside the room, thanking him with a smile as he left. Curious, she peeked under the two silver domes in front of her, discovering plates of delicately prepared food. Covering them again, she spotted an envelope with her name on it, resting against a glass canister containing a sachet of layered salts and herbs.

She felt her face warming as she read Sulpicia's note. Angrily ripping it in half and stuffing the pieces inside the jar, she left everything else untouched. Edward could eat the food if he got back in time. Otherwise, the staff would take it all away later.

So far during their time in Italy, Bella had not allowed herself to wallow over the nightmare she'd been dragged into. There had been no point in stewing, and very likely, it would have been dangerous to do so.

Now she let herself have a moment to sulk in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror as she mulled over the events of the day—and night—before. Not only had she been the star of the show in a sham wedding intended to preserve her life, but she had basically seduced her pretend groom without telling him he'd be her first time, ensuring that an awkward—and uncomfortable—experience would be the result. Now said groom—her husband—had taken off the first chance he got. She couldn't even blame him, not really. She wasn't all that happy with the situation, either.

Shaking her head, she lectured herself for indulging in her useless pity party.

"Playing for our lives," she mumbled aloud, admonishing herself for even these quiet words. They could be overheard without the cover of the shower running.

Get it together, Swan, and suck it up.

She nodded to herself, determined to make the best of the circumstances in which she—they—found themselves. She and Edward were still in this together, no matter how much she'd screwed up the night before.

She heard him enter the room as she finished dressing in the bathroom, and she felt an unexpected flicker of relief when she stepped out and saw him.

"Hey," she said, attempting a casual tone. "Did you have a good run?"

"Hi." He walked over and kissed her on the forehead, ignoring her question.

She knew the gesture was empty. He was playing for the camera.

And that's just fine. You have no right to expect more. He's playing for our lives too, right?

His next words surprised her. "There's a nice spot with a view nearby. Do you want to go check it out? It won't be too hot right now."

"Sure." She tried not to eye him too warily, but the feeling was there. Perhaps he wanted a private place in which to unleash the ire he'd been forced to suppress last night. She could hardly fault him for wanting to vent.

After he showered and changed, they walked the short distance to the spot he'd mentioned. Though they did so hand in hand, they didn't talk, and Bella's apprehension grew. She wasn't looking forward to this. When they reached a small lookout carved out of the cliff, Bella understood why he'd suggested it. The tall rocks obscured the view from the trail above, only a curved strip of plants visible from their vantage.

A perfect place to be able to privately rage aloud.

Even so, Edward offered her his arm to help her down the uneven stairs.

Ever the gentleman.

Reaching a shady nook, he gestured to one of the stone benches. "Can we talk for a bit?"

He didn't have to ask. They were alone. The precise politeness of his question stung more than the well-earned criticism she'd received the night before. She sat down where he had indicated.

When he had seated himself beside her, she was surprised when he picked up her hand again. Holding it in both of his, not looking at her, he spoke quietly. "I'm sorry about last night."

Wait, what?

He glanced up. "I mean, about what I said after—not what we did."

She nodded, certain her confusion was written all over her face.

Edward expelled a quick breath, seemingly in frustration. "By not telling me it was your first time, you—no, I wound up hurting you."

"Edward, you didn't—"

"Yes, I did. Please be honest with me now."

Because you weren't before. He didn't have to say the rest out loud.

She nodded, accepting his gentle rebuke. "You're right. I'm sorry. Yes, it hurt a little at first . . . but not that much."

"I suppose I should just be grateful to you for minimizing it." His laugh was short and sounded bitter.

Bella decided that now was the time to listen and remained silent, waiting on him.

"I was furious last night—I thought it was with you. After I calmed down, though, I realized you were the very last person I should be angry with in this situation, and I'm sorry for being so harsh with you after we made love."

Something painful seemed to traverse his features and he stared over her shoulder at something, or maybe nothing, off in the distance for a long moment. Then he shook his head slowly and fixed his gaze on hers. "I've hurt a lot of people, Bella—some because I was ordered to, others because it couldn't be helped, and only a very few because of far less noble intentions. I've tried to make my peace with all of them, and for the most part I have."

She watched him swallow hard and he looked down at her hand in his while fidgeting with the rings on her finger. He cleared his throat. "I'm also responsible for someone I love getting very badly and brutally hurt—for her getting raped, and I was responsible for that because I was selfish and careless. That's something I haven't made peace with."

Amidst the shock of his revelation, Bella felt a pang of shame for wondering who it had been, Alice and Rosalie's faces floating before her as the most likely candidates. Logically, she knew it could have been anyone from his still-obscured past. His reaction last night made so much more sense now—and it broke her heart afresh, knowing to whom he must have compared himself. Their experience hadn't been anything like that.

"I thought for sure you'd been with someone before, Bella, even though I realize now you never confirmed that one way or another. I knew about your high school boyfriend and I guess I just assumed you'd had others in college. Every time I joked about it, you always played along. So last night"—he sighed and shook his head—"when you asked, and you seemed so certain, I never even questioned it. I wanted to have that with you, and not just because I find you incredibly attractive. You're smart and kind and funny, and while all of this"—he gestured between them with one hand—"has been to keep us alive, I . . . do feel things for you."

With those last words, she made herself suck back the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm her, forcing herself to think calmly about what he was saying.

"I won't cheapen my apology by asking for your forgiveness, but just know that I apologize unreservedly for the way I treated you last night. I still wish I'd known, but please believe me: my overreaction had nothing to do with you."

She let the silence sit between them for a moment, watching him clench his free hand into a fist.

"Is it okay if I talk now?" she asked softly.

He nodded.

"I'm sorry for not telling you."

Edward shook his head, frowning. "You don't need to apologize. I got us into this situation—"

"Can I finish? Without interruptions?" She pretended to sound stern but despite the seriousness of the moment, she couldn't help but smile.

He let go of her completely and held up both of his hands in mock surrender.

She reached out and recaptured one of them, pulling it into her lap and running her thumb over the back of it. "Everything that's happened to us has been crazy. This"—she tapped the wedding band on his finger—"is crazy. We're both doing our best to get through this alive. You were right to be upset, Edward. I didn't consider your feelings, and I owed you the truth so you weren't caught off guard. But I think that we should agree right now not to hold anything we do here against each other. I promise I won't."

He nodded. "I'm in. That's a promise I'm happy to make."

Tentatively, she reached up and, using her fingertips, brushed his hair from his forehead. Though it made her blush, she said, "I'm glad we were together. I . . . really liked it. With you." She raised her chin just a little in challenge. "And I'm not sorry about that."

He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. "Then I won't be either."

Part of her wanted to ask more questions about the details of what he'd told her before. But it was none of her business, and clearly, it was painful for him to discuss. She didn't need to know. The fact that he'd trusted her enough to share it at all felt like a huge gift.

He looked down again. "Can I ask you something?"

Bella eyed him. "Because there are so many limits on what we talk about and do with each other?"

She watched him smirk. "I'm not the blusher here, Swan." He paused, continuing more seriously, "And it's a pretty personal question, so . . ."

"Fair point, the blusher is warned. Go ahead." She shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

"Why . . . me? Why now?" he asked quietly, glancing up at her from his lowered gaze.

Right.

She cleared her throat, aiming for lightness. "You're a pretty traditional guy, aren't you, Cullen?"

"Maybe—and you're evading the question."

She was, for several reasons, some of which were clear, others of which were buried in a murkiness she was afraid to disturb.

Given his serious attitude towards the topic, she answered carefully. "I think you might attach more meaning to it than I do, Edward. I wasn't 'saving' myself or anything. Last night was just the first time it seemed . . .well—we're friends, and I wanted that with you, I just—it's not like— "

"I was just a quick and dirty shag, then?" His Irish brogue was impeccable, and it made her grin.

"Well, I did marry you first. Don't be all broken-hearted about it—or think you've ruined me or something." She elbowed him playfully, watching him smile faintly before he turned his face away.

"Ruined," he scoffed under his breath.

There was more to Edward's question, Bella knew, and with some concern, she posed her own. "Why, um, why does it matter that much to you?"

He looked pensive as he stared straight ahead, his gaze locked on some fixed point in the distance. "First experiences are pretty formative."

Nervous as she was, her mouth seemed to want to run all by itself. "Yep, I mean my first time being kidnapped has gone great!"

Though there was a smirk from him in reply, it was small, his tone at odds with the expression. "Do you actually want an answer to your question?"

"Sorry. I'll shut up now." She tucked her hair behind her ear, forcing herself to follow through. Did she want an answer? What was she afraid he might say?

Edward gave a small sigh. He didn't sound frustrated, though, and when he looked at her again, his expression was calm. "I know not everyone thinks this way, but I just believe a person should have the best possible experience that first time, to feel cared for, to know how special it can be."

Well, dang. The regret over not telling him grew a little more. She hoped he wasn't berating himself again, now that he'd said that.

They sat quietly with their own thoughts for a few moments until Edward reached one arm around her waist, ignoring her startled squeak as he pulled her to sit on his lap, and squeezed her in a fierce embrace. "Even though we have different views on it, it felt . . . incredible with you, Bella."

He was just being kind. She closed her eyes. "You don't have to say that."

He gave a little snort of amusement. "You're right, I don't . . . unless it happens to be true. You're the only person here I don't have to lie to on a regular basis. Take the compliment, Swan."

She leaned her head against his. "Okay."

"But I'm sorry it wasn't as good for you."

She frowned in confusion, tilting her head so she could look at him. "It was."

He smiled gently. "I don't agree. I got caught up in my . . . surprise. I didn't take care of you. It was selfish of me."

Ah. Her cheeks warmed. She really was a Christmas light bulb. And he certainly knows how to plug me in, doesn't he?

Now there was a sentence that had a whole new meaning.

He smoothed his palm over her cheek and held it there while she laid her hand over his. "So I owe you one, okay?" he murmured. Then he kissed her.

Their physical proximity reinforced for her just how integral their emotional equilibrium was to their survival. As they gradually released their holds on each other, she understood that it was so much more than only a will to survive that was contributing to her feelings of relief. It was getting harder and harder to detangle the very intense feelings this man engendered in her.

It was only after they'd returned to their room and she had time to herself that she realized he'd kissed her without any cameras present or charades to perform—and that she'd had no desire to stop him.

Dear Readers,

I'd love to hear your thoughts: What sort of impact do you see Bella and Edward's marriage having on their current situation in Italy?

~ Erin

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.