Posted 2021-11-11; Beta'd by Eeyorefan12

Bella was thankful that a good chunk of the pregnancy-related nausea had disappeared, because her nerves were nauseating enough as she anticipated her talk with Rosie.

Rosie. Who the heck had picked that nickname? Thorny would have been so much more accurate.

Bella sighed. Rosie had told Edward she'd meet her outside. Bella sat at the edge of the garden on one of the shaded benches, her arms folded, trying to press on her boobs and keep them from aching. It wasn't working.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Rosie said as she came into view. The apology sounded surprisingly genuine.

Bella hadn't deluded herself into believing that her sister-in-law liked her. In fact, she was pretty sure the woman loathed her, if her past behavior was any indication of feeling. Bella shook her head. "I know you're busy. Thanks for your time."

"What is it you wanted to discuss?" Rosie sat down beside her and leaned against the bench back, legs crossed, large sunglasses obscuring much of her face.

"Edward."

Rosie removed her sunglasses as she turned to Bella. "I'm listening."

Ho-kay then. She might as well not beat around the proverbial bush. "You're really protective of him."

"Yes." The sunglasses went back on.

The gesture was one of dismissal, but Bella recognized the defensiveness behind it. Setting aside her own twinge of insecurity, she pressed on.

"You think I'm bad for him."

Sunglasses back off, direct stare. "What makes you say that?"

"You suggested that he's tying himself to me out of a misguided sense of responsibility and guilt." Bella stared right back.

Two can play that game, Thorny. And I learned by watching the best—in conditions a lot scarier than this.

She'd kept her tone neutral. She wasn't trying to start a fight, but she wanted Rosie to know that she was just as protective of Edward as his sister—if not more so.

"You're more direct than I expected you to be."

You don't even know me. Genuinely curious to know what Rosie had expected of her, Bella waited.

"I'm concerned about him," Rosie said. "What did he tell you about our conversation?"

Bella looked down for a moment, hesitating. She didn't relish being so blunt with Rosie, but recalling the profound hurt in Edward's eyes as he'd shared his sister's advice demolished all reservations."You told him outright that he doesn't love me . . . and I'm guessing you implied I don't love him either. You also suggested that he talk to an attorney to make sure I don't keep his child away from him."

"Huh. I'm amazed he shared that much. He obviously trusts you." Rosie clearly didn't. She also didn't appear to exhibit any remorse for what she'd said. "But why would he even tell you all that?"

"Because I asked him." When Rose only continued to stare at her, she added, "He was hurt by what you said."

"He said that?"

"He didn't have to. I could see it for myself."

That garnered a reaction. Rose turned her face away for a moment, looking at something across the garden, her jaw tight. "He needed to hear it. I was only being honest. He's my brother and I love him."

"I love him too, Rosalie." Bella said. "The time we had apart when we got back from Italy made that very clear to me. I'm here because I want to be with him, because I love him. Not for any other reason."

"That's kind of hard to believe, all things considered." Rosie eyed Bella's midsection.

Yes, she'd expected that challenge to her claim. "Raising a child doesn't require a romantic relationship between parents. I know that well enough myself, and I wouldn't inflict the possibility of a broken marriage on a child. I'm absolutely excited to be having his baby—our baby, but that's not why I'm with him. And I don't believe it's why Edward is with me, either. He knows I would never keep his child from him."

"So why are you trying so hard to convince me of that? If you're so certain of it?"

Convince her?

"I'm . . . not trying to convince you, Rosie. You can believe it or not. I'm just laying it all out for you to see. I asked to talk to you because we're going to be family, and I think it's better to be clear with family—especially a new family—about what the boundaries are early on. And having you suggest to Edward that he thinks he forced me to sleep with him—that it was almost rape? That's miles beyond the boundary line."

Rosie didn't appear to react.

Thorny and icy.

After a long and quiet moment, she cleared her throat and turned to look at Bella again.

"It sounds like you don't think things happened the way I suggested."

"It sounds like you missed my point about boundaries." Bella lifted her eyebrows. "But just this once—and for the record—he didn't make the first move. Or even the second."

It wasn't a smile, but the corner of Rosie's mouth nudged up almost imperceptibly.

Perhaps the ice had thawed a tiny bit.

Maybe.

"I guess I'm not the only one who's protective of my little brother." She flicked a bit of nonexistent fluff off of her capris.

Nope. Definitely not.

"You know he still feels guilty about what happened to me, right?" Rosie's voice sounded more human than it had during their entire conversation. "He blames himself."

Bella nodded slowly. She hadn't expected things to take this turn.

Rosie nodded too, as if to herself, pulling in a deep breath. "And I haven't been able to help him with that."

Bella waited, listening.

"Has he talked to you about it? Told you what happened?"

Bella shook her head. He'd told her he would—someday.

Rosie sighed. "No, I suppose he wouldn't. Or if he did, it would only be about his perceived part in it." She was quiet for a moment, staring off into the distance . . . or the distant past. "They took a lot of things away from me that night," she said softly, "and one of them was my brother. I never really got him back."

The raw poignancy in those words made Bella's heart ache. In the face of such pain, she had no words to offer Edward's sister.

"He still thinks I'm just trying to make him feel better, but I never blamed him. He did enough of that all by himself." Rosie shook her head. "It wasn't his fault."

Tentatively, unable to help herself, Bella reached out and laid her hand over Rosie's where it rested on the bench.

Rosie looked down and smiled briefly, pulling her hand away and stuffing both her hands under her arms like she was cold. Her businesslike tone returned. "Well, you seem like you're good at tackling stuff head on. No doubt you're more than capable of handling my loving but bull-headed brother."

Bella snorted out a laugh.

Rosie's mouth twitched again.

Okay, still thorny . . . but not icy, Bella decided.

"You know, he told everybody you guys were just taking a break, but he was a mess when you two came back from Italy. I mostly dealt with him on the phone, but even I could tell. Our mother was beside herself. It was just like when he came back from Iraq: he was tense, prickly, and withdrawn." Rosie put her hands back in her lap. "I'm sure he told you something about that; probably that it was all about having to be hypervigilant, right? Having someone else's back twenty-four seven as well as his own."

Bella furrowed her brow. "Pretty much exactly those words."

"Yeah." Rosie scoffed lightly. "I can see now that it was because he knew he had something important to lose."

It was a begrudging acknowledgement, but it was an acknowledgement nonetheless.

Rose stood, indicating that the conversation was over. "I'll keep my nose out of your business, Bella. But to be clear, it's not because you've asked, it's because I think you've got what it takes to knock some sense into him and displace all that guilt. Convince him he's worth it." She stood up. "Still, don't mess it up. And welcome to the family." Without any parting gesture, she walked away.

- 0 -

As Bella walked into the bedroom, she closed the door and leaned back against it. "Wow."

Standing up from the bed, Edward closed his laptop, setting it on the nightstand. "How'd it go?"

"Your sister is—your sister is . . . just wow."

Edward swallowed apprehensively . He'd had his reservations about leaving the property that morning, especially with Bella and Rosie having their "talk", but it wasn't like there'd be violence. Waiting for Bella to clarify her statement, he was rapidly revising that opinion. "So, Rosie—?"

"Oh, no. I mean Alice—"

Edward exhaled, relief making him miss a few of Bella's next words.

" . . . sweet potatoes. That woman does not understand the meaning of the words 'small and simple wedding.'"

Closing the distance between them, Edward wrapped his arms around Bella, chuckling. "Yeah, she wouldn't. Sorry. I'll talk to her—"

"No," Bella murmured, nuzzling his chest, "it's fine. I already said no to the horse-drawn carriage and having the reception at the Norman Rockwell Museum." She leaned back and lifted an eyebrow. "That's okay, right?"

Laughing, Edward nodded. "Yeah, I think I can skip those."

"Good."

Bella tugged him towards the bed, flopping down onto it and rubbing her face with the back of her hand. She yawned, waving and mumbling out an apology. "Not you. Just tired. How was church? I mean, Mass—that's the term, right?"

He sat down and leaned against the headboard, drawing her head onto his lap and smoothing her hair away from her face. This elicited a contented sigh.

"Yes, Mass, that's right." He grinned. Bella had not only graciously agreed to a Catholic ceremony but was even trying to learn some terminology. Recalling her attempt at pronouncing "genuflect" made his grin even wider.

He smoothed his hand over her hair again, thinking about her question. His mother had pointed out that attending the Labor Day Mass would be a good way to introduce him to the new priest. Given that he and Bella were hoping to have their union blessed in Stockbridge, and to do it fairly soon, this was the time to ask.

Still, attending Mass with his mother always felt a bit like a trip back in time. St. Joseph's was an old church, and his mother's family had been parish members since they'd come to the area almost two centuries prior. In recent years, the mere act of walking through the church doors had always made Edward feel like he'd shrunk back into the child he'd been during summers spent with his grandparents in Stockbridge. Today had been different. He'd gone with a very specific purpose, one his mother had been more than eager to facilitate—to the point that he'd had to assure her he'd be fine making his case to the priest. Alone.

"What's the verdict?"

"Father Todd said yes. Saturdays are booked solid, but he said that a Friday evening can work. We can be married—again and for real—in a month, if that works for you."

Bella reached back and squeezed his hand. "Cool."

"Is it?" he teased. He knew he shouldn't expect too much enthusiasm when Bella was clearly exhausted. He couldn't blame her after she'd had to deal with both of his sisters that morning.

It was her turn to laugh. "Yes, it is." Then she yawned again. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Do you need a nap? The picnic isn't for a few hours."

"These days, I can always use a nap." She was back to rubbing her face again.

Wrapping his arms around her, he slid further down so that they were both lying on the bed. It felt like only minutes had passed when he blinked his eyes open again, but from the angle of the light, he knew that they'd slept for at least an hour.

"Edward?"

"Yep."

"You were talking in your sleep." He couldn't see her face, but she sounded . . . worried.

"Ah . . . okay?"

"Were you having a bad dream?"

He didn't recall a cohesive dream and frowned, trying to remember. His body and brain were still waking up.

"You kept saying you were sorry for leaving."

With her prompt, a few fragments returned to him. "Yeah. I guess our conversation about Rosie made me . . . I might have been dreaming about when I enlisted. I pretty much ran away from home to do it."

"You ran away to join the Marines?" Bella tilted her head back to look at him.

He nodded, waiting for the surprising and sudden lump in his throat to clear. His parents' twin looks of dismay from that night were as clear as if it'd happened yesterday.

He heard Bella's sharp intake of breath. She sat up fully, turning to face him. "That was when Rosie got hurt."

He pushed himself up, leaning back against the headboard again. His voice sounded husky. "That was after I messed up, and she got raped."

Bella touched his arm. "Why do you always say it like that? Like it was your fault?"

Not like. Because. He shook his head.

Bella reached up to lay a gentle hand against his cheek and looked into his eyes. "Will you tell me about it now? Please?"

He held open his arms, not wanting to face her if he was going to say this out loud. She came back to him, but with a wrinkle at her forehead. She looked both puzzled and concerned. He feared what he might see in her expression once he'd told her what she'd asked.

With her back resting against his chest, he let himself speak. "Rosie was a student at college and she was out studying at the library. I was supposedly a college student too"—he snorted—"not that I behaved much like one. My first year out of high school, no real direction . . . I was a cocky idiot. Dad had offered to pick Rosie up, but I knew it would mean him staying up later than he normally would—he was working some unpredictable shifts at the hospital—so I said I'd walk her home. And then I met a pretty girl, whose name I can't even remember. When Rosie called, she asked where I was because I was late to meet her. When she figured out what I was doing, she let me know in strong terms she wasn't very impressed and told me not to bother. I didn't argue with her."

He took a deep breath, struggling to put into words the vibrant memories so long suppressed. He registered the feeling of Bella's hand as she curled it around his; even so, her touch brought him no comfort. "I didn't go home right away—stayed out like I had something to prove. I figured Rosie would get a cab. When I finally got home, my folks were in bed, but Alice . . . she told me Rosie hadn't come home. I went back out to look for her and . . . I found her."

He stopped talking and closed his eyes, waiting. For a moment, he allowed himself the solace of a lie—that he was bracing himself for painful memories. It was easier to think that than to wonder what Bella's reaction would be now that he'd finally admitted to what was still, after everything he'd done in his life, his greatest shame. In what light would she see him now?

The old clock on the nightstand ticked quietly, marking the passage of an otherwise silent minute.

He felt the squeeze of her hand over his. "That's why you went after Felix the way you did." She spoke like she'd just solved a puzzle.

He cleared his throat. "I suppose."

"And that day you followed me home after the concert at the Common?"

He forced a laugh. "Well, considering who found you in an alley before, damn straight I followed you home."

She cocked her head and studied him. "Edward, is that why you were in Boston? And at the hospital?"

Bella had an uncanny way of ferreting out the things that made him feel uncomfortable, bringing them into the light for examination. "I told myself I was only in town to check up on you, but the truth is I had to see you again. Even if I didn't plan to . . . uh, make contact. Then I got a call from the hospital and . . . yeah."

"I wish I'd known sooner," she said. "You were being so overprotective even though we weren't together, and I wondered . . . Rosalie's attack—finding her like that—must have been awful for you."

"Awful for me?" Had she not heard what he had told her? "Bella, there were—they—she can't have children because of what they did. She needed two surgeries, they broke her jaw—she . . . " He stopped talking, his voice trembling with remembered rage and fear.

He felt her body stiffen. "Okay, am I allowed to look at you yet?"

He released his hold around her waist, a lot of the relief at having finally told the story disappearing as she turned to face him.

Behold the man you've agreed to marry: abandoner of his post.

Reaching up to stroke his face, she spoke softly. "In case you're wondering, I'm not going anywhere. Sorry." She shrugged. "You're stuck with me."

He smiled nervously. There would be more fallout from him telling this story, he knew. There had to be. He pulled in a nervous breath, ready to speak again, but Bella beat him to it.

"And yes, awful for you, Edward. When the people we love hurt, we hurt too. Even when we feel our actions have precipitated that hurt. You couldn't have known, just like you couldn't have known what grabbing me in that alley meant—though you certainly apologized enough times for it in Italy." Here she smiled.

"People have told me the same thing many times, Bella. My Dad, my priest, even a counselor I saw after Iraq."

"I'm sure they have, but I haven't, and I think you get that I don't cut you any slack, Cullen. If what we have can withstand me saying that you broke my heart, and you calling me a hypocrite for holding your actions against you, then it can withstand me hearing this and giving you my honest opinion. You were a kid and you made a bad decision. You can hook your guilt on a thousand what ifs, but nothing good'll come of it. Rosie will still feel badly that you feel bad, and you'll waste energy feeling guilty when you could spend it on being happy that she will get her wish to be a mom. You could be enjoying . . . us, our life, the fact that we're together, our baby, and"—she sighed and squeezed her eyes shut—"our supposedly low-key wedding that just may require divine intervention not to mushroom out of our control. Please tell me Alice has an off-switch."

"Maybe a lower intensity setting," he murmured soothingly, but his attention was still snagged on one key phrase: Our baby. Their baby.

She was right. He knew she was right, just as he'd seen the logic in what his counselor and everyone else in his family had said. "It's been almost ten years of me feeling this way, Bella—and me not wanting to feel this way and trying to make amends. I just—it isn't gonna go away on its own."

"I know, but Edward . . . it seems like everyone else you've talked to has offered you something that you refuse to give yourself: forgiveness. You can at least try to think and speak of it in a different way. Just try." She paused and then pointed a finger at his face. "And don't quote Yoda at me."

He chuckled.

"I can try," he said softly.

After all, it wasn't as if he had a choice; he was coming to realize that there was nothing this woman could ask of him that he wasn't willing to give her.

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