Posted 2021-09-26; Beta'd by Eeyorefan12

"I'm going out on a limb here, but I'm thinking you're not up for going to lunch." Birgitta eyed Bella's applesauce. "Still feeling crummy, huh?"

With her return to work, Bella had finally gotten the full story of her "rescue" from Birgitta, who had been worried when she couldn't reach her on Monday. After finding Bella's key and letting herself into the townhouse, for which she had needlessly apologized, Birgitta had found her nearly unresponsive and called 911. She had gone to the hospital and waited in the ER until being informed that Bella was being admitted but should be fine. Due to privacy laws, they hadn't told her friend anything else, a fact for which Bella was more than grateful.

"I feel better now, but they said it would take a while for me to be back to eating regular food," she replied. Just the thought of eating anything but the blandest foods still made her nauseous

"There's this greek place nearby and they make—"

Bella held up her hand. "Talking about food right now is probably not the best idea."

Birgitta sighed. "Okay. I'll keep my foodie talk to myself. Maybe a walk at lunch tomorrow?"

Or a nap? Could she take a nap? Bella briefly eyed the floor by her desk. Seriously tempting, if unlikely. "Sure," she said. She wasn't ready to tell anyone that she was pregnant, but it would be a giant relief when she was.

She sat back in her chair, replaying that thought over in her head. While she kept telling herself she had options, it was becoming clear that there was only one she wanted. Having a baby at twenty-three was about the least astute life, career, and financial decision she could make.

But she had decided she could do it. Even if Aro and his organization went up in a puff of smoke tomorrow and she found herself divorced and homeless, she could make it work. Living with Renée she'd learned to be financially lean out of necessity. Paying for Harvard had honed that skill further.

Edward had also paid off her student loans. She would have to pay him back, not that she thought he'd ask for her to do so, but because it was the right thing to do. She didn't want to be beholden to him for anything, even if she was the mother of his child. But then she was ashamed about this whole line of thinking. Whether she accepted financial support from Edward for herself was one thing, but it was his baby too, and she knew enough of the man to know that he'd take such a responsibility seriously. No, he would insist on supporting his child.

And being part of his or her life.

This acknowledgement made her circle right back to the debate she'd been having with herself over the last few days. She needed to tell him, yet she didn't want to tell him—not because she didn't want him to know, but because it was going to be one hell of a conversation.

She'd thought she could do it when he'd come over with the vitamins from his father, but she'd found herself at loose ends that afternoon. She hadn't known about the pregnancy long enough to fully process it—what it meant for her, and what she wanted to do. Even more so, she'd been in no way prepared for how she'd felt when Edward was only an arm's length away. The mere sight of him on her doorstep had left her feeling overwhelmed—mostly from relief. Except for a small cut on his chin, he'd looked okay. She'd imagined far worse after what she'd witnessed at the hospital.

What had been even more troubling were the more . . . positive feelings she'd experienced. He had been just as visually compelling as he had always been for her—a realization that had surprised her and then thrown her off balance. When he'd spoken so gently and with such concern for her, it had been all she could do not to burst into tears.

So she'd asked him to leave.

All she could think of now was that he could have been acting. She had no way of knowing which of his sentiments were genuine, did she? With that in mind, she wondered how he would react to her news. How would anyone react to an unplanned pregnancy? With shock, disbelief, anger . . .

"Ugh!" Exasperated, she threw herself back in her chair. When her colleague walked by, she waved politely, trying to ignore the man's perplexed expression.

"Small steps," she muttered to herself. Maybe she could meet Edward simply to talk?

About what?

She had a laundry list of items to bring up, the primary one being how he rationalized dropping out of her life with what had felt like a minute's warning.

Was she ready for that?

No. But who was ever ready for that? Or finding out they were going to be a parent?

She picked up the phone and dialed his number.

- 0 -

Edward was still in disbelief. He was nervous, too, and very early for the time they'd arranged. Bella had asked to talk to him again—at her house. Her turf. Smart girl. Of course, technically, it was their house, but psychologically she was on her territory. It gave her at least a perception of advantage, though she couldn't actually make him leave, if he got sticky about it.

Which he would never do.

"My God, shut the hell up!" He rubbed his face in his hands.

Bella's new Acura sedan whizzed by. He watched her park in the carport and he frowned. Her back tire looked a little flat. Would she think to check that? Maybe he could before he left.

Or not. Boundaries? He'd heard of them—had certainly crossed more than his share.

He exhaled. He wasn't used to being on edge like this—hell, he'd been calmer most days in Italy—and the experience was decidedly unpleasant. After another ten minutes of forcing himself to wait, he decided he'd given Bella enough time to do whatever it was she needed to do after work. She'd said six, and it was now six.

He'd changed twice before deciding on what to wear. A suit had been his first choice, wanting to make it look like he'd come straight from work. But then he'd thought that it might make her feel uncomfortable. Jeans were too casual and said he might not care, and God, did he ever care. He finally settled on chinos and a button-down. She'd seen him in them enough to be used to them, and they'd been good enough to wear working for Aro.

And it didn't hurt that she'd said his ass looked nice in them. Or that she peeled this very shirt off of you on a certain private beach in Amalfi.

Where he'd struggled was with deciding what to bring. Esme had trained all her kids to always bring something—even if it was small—when visiting someone. Edward had debated between flowers and food, and then between other practical or fanciful items.

He'd already left Bella flowers, not that she'd known they were from him. Or his mother's garden.

He'd briefly considered bringing along a bag of potatoes, but while it might have once made her laugh, he suspected she was more likely to bean him over the head with one than anything else.

Or maybe not.

She hadn't seemed angry last time—though her fatigue could have been masking her emotions. There'd been something else, but he didn't know what. This was his greatest fear, that she wasn't feeling much of anything—that she didn't care. That she'd never cared the way he wanted her to.

They had both put on a good show for Aro, after all, but she'd always followed his lead. And she was damn smart.

"Well, here goes . . . everything." Picking up the small gift bag on the seat, he made his way to her front porch and knocked. The shininess of the lock caught his eye, as did the unique shape. The hardware looked brand new. He fingered the keyhole briefly right as Bella pulled open the door.

She was wearing a robe.

"Hi, um—I'm—"

"Not ready. Okay. I'll . . ." he pointed back over his shoulder with his thumb.

"Why don't you come in," she said, looking a little red in the face.

This was so not how he wanted to start this visit, by obviously embarrassing her. "Sure." He followed her, his eyes on her bare calves as she led him into the living room.

"Make yourself at . . . home." She blushed again. Yes, she was likely remembering that this was, technically, their home. On paper, anyway.

"Thanks. Take your time—no rush on my end." He pulled out his phone and sat down.

It was even worse, waiting inside the house.

She was loud on the stairs, something he'd first noticed when they'd been in Stockbridge together. She seemed even louder on the hardwood ones here. He smiled and shook his head. Bella had some amazing talents; stealth was not one of them.

She had changed into something he recognized—a blouse from Italy, and capris that seemed familiar . . . ah, the ones that Alice had bought. She looked good, if perhaps a bit overdressed for an evening in with her . . . husband who wasn't really her husband.

Tucking a foot underneath her, she sat down on the couch beside him. The simple act of sitting near him so casually expressed trust. Did she still trust him?

"Thanks for coming," she said, smiling politely in his direction.

"I said anytime, and I meant it."

She swallowed, nodding somewhat nervously. "I know you're busy, so I won't keep you long."

"You're never an imposition on my time, Bella."

She flicked her gaze up to him and then away. She didn't believe him. "Things were left so . . . awkwardly after we got home. I wanted a chance to smooth things out, I guess."

Smooth things out. That was good, right?

"Okay."

She seemed nervous again. "Only if you want, though. I don't want to be a nuisance . . ."

His message on the plane couldn't have been clearer, could it? She thought he'd wanted nothing to do with her, and he needed to correct that belief quickly before it became a permanent concept in her mind. No wonder she'd never reached out.

"I'm sorry, Bella, about all that—about how I was that day. I never meant . . . I was so tired and . . . I let my exhaustion get to me. We had to move quickly on so little notice, and I was just focused on having everything in place, getting things ready for you, keeping my promise and making sure you'd be safe." Could he say this any more awkwardly? "I felt—I still feel incredibly guilty that you were dragged into this, especially since I'd gotten to know you so much . . . better."

Outstanding job, Cullen. If your military superiors had ever heard you spout such crap, you'd have been busted down to private on the spot.

Bella listened, her head tilted at an angle so that her gaze only lit on his face intermittently.

She didn't respond right away, and the brief silence made him want to fill it. "Uh, this is for you." He held out the gift bag. "It's only a small housewarming present."

"Thank you." The words were soft. She opened the bag, pulling out the package of Italian coffee he'd found. It had been stupidly expensive, but he was pretty sure it was the same one she'd enjoyed in Italy.

However, her expression didn't match her words, and her hand went to her stomach as she closed her eyes. She put the coffee right back in the bag. "That's thoughtful of you," she said, still looking pained. "I just—after the hospital, smells are tricky."

"Of course. I didn't think." He ran his hand through his hair.

"Oh, you certainly did." She smiled at him, setting the bag on the coffee table. "I'm quite sure I'll enjoy it once my stomach is up to it."

Okay, then. He glanced around the room, not sure what to say next. This was her show, after all.

Beside him, Bella shifted, bringing both her legs up so that she hugged her knees. He would have taken it as a sign of ease, but she seemed to be pressing her legs tightly to her midsection.

"Are you feeling all right?"

"A little better," she said. "They said it would take a while to get back to . . . normal." She bit her lip.

She was either lying or uncomfortable with what she'd said, but there was no way he was going to challenge her on it. He hummed in reply, deciding to help move things forward. "Bella, what does . . . smoothing things out mean for you?"

Her eyes widened like he'd asked something alarming. Then she appeared to relax. "Just having a relationship—a friendship, I guess. It was so . . . strange to go from spending so much time together to . . . nothing."

Strange. Not heartbreaking, not difficult, simply . . . strange. But he could also relate. Leaving military life had been somewhat the same—losing your routines, familiar faces, and for him, even his sense of identity and purpose pretty much overnight. He should have taken that into account for Bella much more than he had. Even though he'd made sure she had counseling, he should have remembered how much it helped to be in the company of others who'd shared the same experience.

"I'd like to continue our . . . friendship too, Bella," he said sincerely. "It certainly wasn't a conventional start. I guess no one would call us normal in that regard."

She smiled and chuckled. "No, we are not. Especially not when one of us screams about potatoes in hospitals."

He laughed. It had been ridiculous. "That was a bit embarrassing in hindsight, I'll admit. Did anyone ask you about that?"

"Surprisingly, no."

"What would you have said if someone had?" He was genuinely curious to know.

She shrugged. "I guess I could have told them my hus . . . I mean, my friend was off his meds." The hint of mischief in her expression was a welcome surprise, although it was gone quickly. "But I probably would have told them it was an in-joke. I mean, it's the truth. It kinda is."

"It was a good metaphor." He smiled, recalling that conversation that felt like years ago.

"Not such fun circumstances, but yes, a good metaphor."

Great idea, bringing up the second time you abducted her. Smooth.

He cleared his throat. "I've definitely missed your sense of humor."

This earned him a tiny smile.

Still, she didn't respond, and it was apparently on him to carry the conversation for the moment. His next question didn't feel so inspired, but he did want to know the answer. "So, how's work?"

"Fine." Another shrug. "Interesting in some ways. Boring in others. You know. Work."

This disappointed him. He wanted her to enjoy her job. She deserved to enjoy her life.

Bella sighed aloud. "Scratch that, it is interesting. I've just been super tired lately. Kinda all over the map emotionally because—." She clamped her mouth shut.

She'd been upset and she didn't want him to know.

Of course she's been upset. She's dealing with trauma—almost certainly PTSD. And that's on you. Tread carefully.

"That's entirely understandable. Has the . . . contact I gave you been helpful?" He knew she'd attended her appointments, but he'd told Jasper not to access the session notes. They'd be notified if anything truly troubling arose regarding her safety. Even that potential violation of her privacy made his gut twist. He hoped it never came to that.

"Very helpful, actually. How about for you?" Then she hopped up. "Hold that thought. Can I get you a glass of water or something? 'Something' being a banana, applesauce, rice or toast? Sorry, I don't have any beer or . . . anything."

She wasn't feeling well still. "Some water would be great. Thanks."

She stumbled and looked off balance a little as she made her way to the kitchen, and he immediately felt badly that he'd said yes. If she was more uncoordinated than before, she wasn't nearly well enough to be working. Not that it would be good to say that out loud. He reminded himself that he was here because of her goodwill.

She returned with more coordination than she'd left, placing a glass of water in front of him and then taking a deep drink from her own. When she sat back down, she resumed her question. "So, how's the readjustment been for you? Getting back to work and . . . everything? I mean, if you can say anything—"

"It's okay. I can talk about it." He smiled at her. He could steer clear of any business details, and given the tentacle-like way Aro had managed to insinuate himself into their operations, he was more than glad to avoid it. Extricating themselves was going to take time. "I'll be honest, it was a pretty brutal adjustment." Though he let his gaze wander naturally, he watched her face as he spoke, searching for clues as to her thoughts. Secretly, he was hoping that sharing this with her might help her do the same.

"I think if you asked my family, they'd probably tell you I've been a jerk whenever they've had to deal with me, which hasn't been much. I've been trying to work a lot and keep myself busy. It was difficult, going from two months of being so hypervigilant to, well, home." He grimaced, thinking of how grouchy he'd been with both family and his work associates and how kindly they'd still treated him. "In some ways, it was harder to come home from this than when I returned from active duty. At least then, I'd still been sharing responsibility, allowing others to stand for me as I did for them. Giving up my sense of control—any of my responsibilities, really—was harder this time."

"That sounds . . . difficult."

She had no idea, and given the way he'd cut her loose, he wasn't about to tell her exactly why it had been so brutal. The responsibility that had been hardest to give up was assuring her safety and well-being on a daily basis. He'd had nothing to take its place. Still, he hadn't given her any choice about that abrupt separation; he'd believed it necessary. After dragging her into the ugliness of his business with Aro, he'd had to keep his promise to give her her life back. He'd had to give her the freedom to walk away—right?.

If you love something, set it free . . .

But she hadn't walked away. She was holding out her hand and asking for friendship. He could work with friendship. Friendships could grow into other things.

"It was challenging, but . . . I've got an arsenal of coping mechanisms to fall back on." He wondered if such a statement would reveal the months of work he'd done with a psychologist, at his father's behest, on his return from his military service. He thought guiltily of how he'd blown off a lot of what he'd learned then and had instead been spending his time buried under work. How had she coped, beyond counseling? "Any good new books?" He thought of her list.

She shook her head. "Books haven't been holding my attention lately."

She loved reading. Something was seriously wrong if she wasn't enjoying it. "Why not?" he blurted out. "Never mind, sorry, that's probably a really personal question."

After taking a sip of water, Bella put her glass down. "I had sex with you on a table. You don't think that's more personal than a question about reading?"

He nearly choked on his drink.

Despite her blush, she smirked a little. "Sorry, my sense of humor is unreformed."

"That makes me happy," he said once he'd cleared his throat a few times. Her sense of humor was beautifully wicked—and definitely still intact, despite everything. "Like I said, I've missed it."

I've missed you.

"No new love interests in the last nine weeks?"

What. The. Hell?

Did she think—yes, she did think that could happen, even though he'd told her how busy he'd been. She wouldn't have asked otherwise.

"Did you miss the part about what a jerk I've been to everyone?" he said, both teasing and not. "But no. No time and no . . . interest." He was afraid to ask her the same question, but he did: "And you?"

"No." She shook her head, surprisingly not blushing as she looked him in the eye. "No one." He couldn't help thinking she said it as if she needed to convince him.

It took a lot, hiding his relief at that answer. "So uh, what have you been doing for . . . fun?"

She shrugged. "Netflix. I've never had it before." She looked towards the TV. "Thank you, by the way. I definitely did not expect to be living anywhere like this right after college." Her cheeks flushed.

Still uncomfortable feeling beholden to others, to him.

But Netflix? She wasn't a television watcher. He thought of how much she'd enjoyed their walks together. It was still light out. "How's the neighborhood?"

"It's great. It's, um, yours too, I hear." She lifted her eyebrows in a mild challenge.

She knew that his family's home was nearby. Had Carlisle told her that? "Sort of, I guess. Not really in terms of the walkable areas. It's nice out, though. Would you like to go for a walk?"

"I would." She unfolded herself and stood. "But I'm warning you, I'll be slow."

His chivalrous side objected to how much he liked this fact. It meant more time with her. And he could point out her possibly leaky tire.

Bella grabbed her keys and then a small purse. Edward had been right: the keys appeared unused. As she locked her front door, he tapped the shiny brass hardware. "This looks new. Very secure." He tried to inject a note of approval into his voice.

Her face flushed. "It is. I'm sorry, I should've gotten a key for you—"

"No, you shouldn't, and I wasn't implying that. I was only curious—did we change it for you when we bought the place?"

They moved down the front steps and she laughed a little nervously. "I'm not sure, actually, but your uh, dad was here last week. He was superbly unimpressed that I hid a key in one of the planters."

Edward tried to keep his eyes from widening. Anyone could have found that key. Anyone could have gotten into her house. How had he failed so spectacularly in teaching her these small safety rules? He was already reconsidering his decision not to put a camera on her front porch.

And yet, a tiny part of him was happy that her experiences with him and their time in Italy hadn't jaded her open nature. A lifetime of looking over her shoulder was not what he wanted for her, either.

"Anyway, he was kind enough to call a locksmith and get them changed."

Good. Then he frowned. "You're not still leaving a key . . ." He looked back at the house.

"No," she said. "I have been suitably . . . reeducated." She smiled a little. "I've left one at the office, though, just in case—in a locked desk drawer."

He slowed as they passed by her car. "Your rear left tire looks a little flat."

Bella stopped walking, briefly touching his arm and turning to face him. "Edward, I do not need you to do this for me anymore. I know you're being a very . . . chivalrous—"

"Thug?" he suggested, unable to help himself. He chuckled at her embarrassed smile.

"I'm fine, okay? We're not in Italy, now. We're home. I will check the air in my tires. Thank you for pointing it out." Then she paused. "Sorry, I'm inferring more than there is here. It's easy to forget that these"—she looked at the house and the car—"are your investments. I'll be more careful."

"That's not at all what I meant. They might have both our names on them, Bella, but they're yours."

This seemed to trouble her, her forehead furrowing. Still, she returned to the trajectory of their walk, moving in silence with him. It was a beautiful evening. The recent rain had cleaned everything, and the trees and flowers were vibrant, even for August. Bella seemed to be taking slightly deeper breaths than usual.

"Do you need to stop or go slower?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

She shook her head. "No. Breathing deeply outside helps with the nausea." She turned to face forward rapidly, her cheeks flushing slightly. "You don't have to do that."

"Do what? Talk?"

She laughed and shook her head. "No, take care of me. I'm fine."

Now that he was getting a better look at her outside, he disagreed. She looked like a strong wind might blow her away. Way too much weight gone. Her hospitalization made a lot more sense.

"Fair enough. I'll try to scale back the . . . uh, chivalry."

He could only see the side of her face but he was willing to bet that she'd rolled her eyes.

They walked on, moving slowly through the quieting streets. It was peaceful, and it felt good to simply be at her side. Their walk was over far too soon. At her door, he leaned against the porch railing, thinking about what he'd planned to ask. Grabbing lunch together would be something friend-like, but food didn't seem to be her thing right now. "Do you like baseball? I have tickets for the Red Sox game on Saturday. Want to come with me?"

She turned back to him, studying his face.

Too soon, maybe? He felt his insides squirm as he waited, keeping his expression open.

"Yeah, that could be fun. We could . . . talk some more, too. What, um, time?"

"The game starts at 1:10." He thought for a moment. "I have a parking pass so I can pick you up. Parking near Fenway's a nightmare." This was conveniently true.

"Sure, it's a da—that'll be nice."

She'd been about to say it was a date. His heart swelled. They were going on a date.

Author's postscript: Thank you, folks, for indulging my curiosity. It was fascinating to see the different reading times. I will reassure those of you who expressed concern about your self-described "slow" reading speed: speed in reading does not necessarily improve the experience. We each have our own comfortable pace.

To the guest reviewer who took 5 seconds? LOL! Your review gave me a good chuckle. I know the pacing isn't what everyone wants.

And the next 20-plus chapters? No, they will not be Bella and Edward dancing around the elephant in the room. Trust me, there is a LOT more to come, plot-wise. This is a romantic thriller, after all.

Thank you to all of you who share your reactions. It's really helpful to see these different perspectives on the story as Eeyorefan12 and I edit it.

- Erin

Eeyorefan12: What she said. ;)

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