Someday We'll Fall

My eyes were fixed on the couple a table over from me. I knew I shouldn't stare at them, but I couldn't help it. They were dynamic in their interactions. He'd said something mildly stupid, and then she'd laughed so hard she was on the verge of tears.

He looked equal parts annoyed and utterly enamored with her. Like he was used to the way she laughed at him. Like he loved it.

She looks at me and when she giggles, her eyes light up. The sound of her laughter is infectious, the tilt of her lips impossible to stay mad at. She's always laughing at me, but fuck do I love her enough not to care.

Sometimes, I even say stupid shit out loud, knowing it will get this response for her.

I'd do anything to hear that laugh.

I left the café, the couple still on my mind. I couldn't shake their interactions, the intimacy, and comfort in which they had operated around one another.

Like they'd been together for so long, they didn't even have to think about how to be with each other. Like it had become effortless.

She flops onto the sofa, one of her legs landing into my lap as she sprawls out over me. The comfort between us is so strong, I don't even think about her invading my space like this. I want her there, in my space.

She glances up at me from where she's lounging on the pillows, and her smile takes my breath away. I didn't know you could be so comfortable with someone. Not until her.

I headed home, melancholy in my loneliness. I knew it was something I chose; I was an absolute shit show when it came to dating, and I drove women away almost immediately. It was too hard to overcome all my shit and just be real with them.

Sometimes I would blame it on the women I've dated. They weren't special enough for me to let in.

But mostly, I blamed myself. I cut them out as soon as I could, and I never stopped to ask why.

She's staring at me across the sofa, her dark eyes warm and concerned. "Hey," she whispers, shifting positions. She crawls toward me, landing on my lap, and immediately my hands go around her waist. "What's going on?"

"It's nothing," I lie to her, because sometimes it's easier than opening up.

"Don't do that," she whispers, her hands reaching up to cup my face. "Don't shut me out."

I'm scared.

I'm scared of letting her in. I already love her too much. What if this doesn't last? What if she decides to leave? What if…

I'm plagued by the unknown, the uncertain.

Her hands move down to rest against my throat and the back of my neck, gently cradling my head.

"Hey," she whispers, her lips barely moving as she gets closer and closer to me. "I love you. Please let me in."

When my mom asked, I went to my parents' house, knowing she worried about me. I didn't like to go home very often. It wasn't because I didn't love my family. It was just sometimes hard to be near them.

My brother Emmett and his wife Rose lived with my parents while they saved up for their own house, and when I was there, I couldn't escape the love and intimacy of the couples who lived there. My parents were steady and somehow remained as in love as they were when they first met, despite being married over thirty years. My brother had it just as bad, though he and Rose had only been married three years.

Sometimes it was hard to be near them.

"Where did you get that ring?" I ask, glancing over at her hand. She looks down at the slim gold band.

"I don't know. It was in my jewelry box. Must have been something from my teen years."

It's on her right hand, but the sight of it sends a feeling running through me. It's a feeling I don't know how to name.

Fear, excitement, nervousness, yearning, anxiety, hope… it's all there, sitting on that slim gold band.

What would it take to move that ring to the other hand?

What would it take for me to be able to call her mine forever?

"Edward, sweetheart," Mom said, coming over to hug me. "It's been so long since we've seen you. How are you?"

I pulled away from her, shrugging lightly. "Fine," I told her. It was technically true, though it didn't convey the listlessness in me.

Mom eyed me as I moved past her. In the living room, my father and brother were sitting watching TV. I plopped onto the sofa next to them. Dad shot me a hello, but I only got a head nod from Emmett.

For a very small moment, everything was fine.

Then Rose came in, handing Emmett a beer and plopping herself on his lap.

Their affection for each other was hard for me to witness, and I got up to get my own drink.

"Since when are you into PDA?"

She's looking at me skeptically as I wrap my arms around her tighter. I look around my parent's living room—hardly a public place—and look back at her.

"Since I realized how madly in love with you I am."

Her smile sets everything in my world right, and when she leans down to kiss me, I absolutely don't care where we are or who can see us. This isn't about anyone but us.

Dinner with my family dragged on. They were either oblivious to how uncomfortable I was, or they didn't care. I was happy for all of them, truly, but it was hard to keep watching.

The yearning in me was growing deeper, and I didn't know how to soothe it.

"I need you," she pants, her fingers fumbling for my belt. "Please I need you now."

I've never felt need like this as I rip at my own clothes. "Fuck, yes," I rasp, my desperation matching hers. When we are finally free of our restrictions, she sinks over me, hissing as we are joined.

"Fuck," she cries into my shoulder. "Now… harder… please."

"Hold on, Baby," I grunt. Her fingers find purchase on my shoulders as I lift her up and slide back into her. Each time she surrounds me, it feels like coming home, and the ache in my soul is soothed, just a bit.

"I love you, Edward," she cries into my skin. I grip her tight, slamming into her.

"I love you, Bella."

I left my parents' house, feeling restless and unfulfilled. I was too amped up to go home, so instead, I headed toward the nearest bar. I wasn't one to drink my problems away, but I didn't want to be alone right now.

Inside, the bar was pretty quiet. It was a Tuesday night, and not many people were there except for some obvious frequent patrons.

I slid up to the bar and settled down, letting out a long breath.

"What can I get you?"

I looked up at the bartender, and I choked on the breath I was trying to get back into me. She was beautiful, with long brown hair, big dark eyes, and pink lips that were perfectly pouty. She was wearing an unbuttoned flannel shirt tied at her waist, with a black tank top underneath, and it accentuated the flare of her hips and the swells of her breasts.

I felt her sizing me up, and when her eyes met mine, her smile was enough to knock me on my ass.

"What's your name?" she asked, grabbing a glass and pouring me a drink I hadn't ordered. I accepted it.

"Edward," I croaked. She grinned, her fingers lingering on mine as she handed over the glass.

"Well, Edward. This is a good luck shot," she said, tapping her own glass as she poured. "Drink up for luck."

I didn't question it. I grabbed the glass and held it in front of me as she did the same. Our gazes met, and she grinned before counting to three. We both knocked the shot back, and when she set her glass down on the counter, she licked her full lips.

"What's your name?" I asked her, my stomach full of butterflies and the weightlessness of alcohol.

Her smile held so much promise. "Bella. My name is Bella."