Hi ladies,

All I have to say is wow. I never expected to have such a response to my story. It's pretty freaking cool though, and I'm glad everyone seems to be enjoying it. I have to give Jgaff special thanks for recommending my story and for sending me this cool picture for it. I'm not sure who Jgaff is, but apparently, a lot of her readers came to check out this story. So rad.

Thanks for reading:) Let me know what you think ...

Edward-

Chapter 2

Bella: 15

Edward: 27

There was something in the girl's voice as she continued to speak to the cashier about a job opportunity. While there was a definite edge, a hardness, a coldness twinging her words, there was also a hint of desperation. Tilting my head, I examined the girl before me.

Her clothes were baggy, hanging off her hips, the denim worn and ripped, and not for style. She looked a bit on the thin side as if it'd been a minute since she'd eaten a decent meal. Hell, her fucking shoulder blades were sticking out from the thin material of her black tank top, and her shoes had seen better days, probably a year ago.

Instead of listening to what she said, I listened to what she wasn't saying. Her insistence on knowing what this job would provide spoke volumes. While most kids her age were hanging out with their friends, and trolling for boys, she stood here practically begging for a job. The disappointment was evident in her tone when the clerk told her seven dollars an hour was her best bet.

I shuffled behind her, my shoulder bumping into her back, and the lethal glare she threw in my direction didn't inspire the intimidation I knew she was trying for. Passing her a smile that'd turned many heads over the years, she only glowered harder at me. Instead of feeling intimidated by her response, I was only amused by the daggers her green eyes shoot at me.

Once she learned all the information she was looking for, she tapped the counter with a smirk on her lips as she sweetly asked, "Would you happen to have a pen I can borrow?"

I was fairly certain she'd only asked for a pen to further aggravate the man behind the counter. Hell, she had a pen in her back pocket, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. The girl definitely had some spunk to her, and I admired the fire in her, even if she was holding up the line and making me late for band practice. My gaze followed her as she collected the pen, and finally, stepped further away to fill out her application.

A year ago, my life changed drastically. I'd gone from playing at shitty nightclubs to traveling throughout the U.S., and even did a stint in Europe for a month. My band went from playing locally to rocking every major venue from here to England. Instead of making a few hundred dollars per show, Ivory Kiss raked in over a million and a quarter per gig, and that didn't account for the royalties that poured in from record sales, and other memorabilia, like shirts, bandanas, guitar picks. My autograph was going for over five grand on the net, which totally blew my mind the first time I saw the ad.

To say I had been fortunate the day Tanya Smothers came into the Gold Nugget was an understatement, and I promised when I signed on that dotted line I would give back. What better way to do that very thing than to offer a girl that was obviously down on her luck a job? A real job. One that would pay a shit load more than seven bucks an hour.

The cashier's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull when he gave me his undivided attention. Recognition brightened eyes that'd been dull as a mouse's fur moments ago as the realization of who I was struck him. This was the only real problem with being a rock legend, everyone seemed to know who you were and they wanted a small piece for themselves.

"Aren't you Edward Cullen, lead guitarist for Ivory Kiss?" His jaw gapped open at me when I merely nodded in confirmation, hoping his voice wasn't alerting every fan within a ten-mile radius. I looked toward the girl several feet away, and to my surprise, she was absorbed in filling out the application, and totally clueless of who I was. "Man, I saw your show three months ago. You killed that guitar solo. I swear I have to be your biggest fan. Can I have your autograph?"

"Sure, anything for my biggest fan," I replied with a hint of sarcasm, dropping a twenty on the counter to pay for the six-pack I planned to take to Jake's. Everyone from L.A. to London claimed to be my biggest fan, and this cat was no different. I think I'd signed a thousand autographs with that very phrase.

As he handed me a pen and piece of receipt paper, I scribbled my name across the thin sheet, still amazed that something as simple as my name had such an effect on people. Finished, I dropped the pen and pushed the paper toward him. The guy looked like he was experiencing one hell of a wet dream as he picked it up, and, mumbled, "This is so fuckin' cool."

Once upon a time, this guy's enthusiasm would've given me an adrenaline rush. That natural high that comes with performing, and watching thousands of fans scream and cry like you just fell from heaven. Honestly, in some sense, it still did, yet sometimes, I wanted to go back. Go back to the tiny venues when no one knew who I was.

Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I felt my patience growing thinner with every passing second, waiting for my change cause the dude was fanboying so much he'd forgotten I was a customer. I didn't even try to disguise my growing annoyance. "Look, man, can I get my change? I have practice to be at thirty minutes ago."

"Oh fuck, man. Sorry about that." Punching a few buttons he finished the sale, the drawer sliding open, and he hurriedly counted out my change. His fucking hand was shaking when he passed me the bills back. "It was so cool to meet you."

I grunted back, nodding to him as I stepped away from the counter. I almost walked past the brunette when she rubbed at her stomach drawing my attention. Damn, she was thinner than I'd first thought, and before I realized what I was doing, I tapped on her shoulder. Startled, she whirled around to face me, her green eyes lit with a fire very few people had, her nostrils flaring with a spike in her temper. The thickest lashes I'd ever seen framed the most incredible eyes, resembling gems, emeralds to be more precise. And, for a moment in time, I was unable to pull away from the magnetic energy radiating from their depths.

She's fifteen, asshole. As the reminder sang through my mind, I forced my gaze away, scanning the length of her. She was way too scrawny, her ribcage visible, and I could count every jagged bone. Clearing my throat, I backed up an inch. "I heard you are looking for a job. I might know about a position if you're interested."

If looks could kill I would've hit the floor. Her lips pursed into a thin line as she studied me, and she looked as if she was about to put me in my place. "Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying it."

As soon as the snarky comment left her lips, I realized how my proposition must've sounded, especially since I was still having trouble looking away from the most intriguing eyes I'd ever seen. I backed away another foot, not wanting to appear threatening, and my hands lifted in a sign of submission. "Nothing inappropriate, you're way too young for me. I'm just looking for someone to clean for me, but I can promise it will pay more than minimum wage."

There was skepticism in her gaze, and she nervously bit her lip. The promise of making good money must've outweighed the possibility of me being a creep, her hands coming up to rest on her hips. "What kind of cleaning?"

I hesitated to say considering she was looking at me as if I was a lurker in the shadows. Still, her nearly hollowed-out cheeks poked at a sympathetic spot inside me. I remembered what it was like to wonder where my next meal was coming from, to have holes in my shoes, and drown in denim that didn't quite fit. "I have a huge house, and I could really use someone to come in and clean once a day. If you're interested, you should give me a call."

She studied me intently for several minutes, and then, she relaxed a fraction. "How do I know you're not some prev?"

"I promise, I'm not a prev. I heard you need a job, and I'd rather not pay for a service when someone else needs the money worse." Reaching past her to retrieve the pen on the counter, I pulled the application toward me, and hurriedly wrote down my cell number. "Shoot me a text before you call. I don't take calls from random numbers. What's your name?"

"Bella," she whispered, her gaze darting between mine and the application with my number. "Why would you want to help me?"

"Because a year and a half ago, I was in exactly the same spot, and someone took a chance on me." I shrugged, folding the paper with my number on it, and handed it to her. The last thing I needed was my biggest fan getting ahold of my number. "My name's Edward. Think about it, call me, and we'll talk about hours and wages."

Present Day

I picked my daughter up from her car seat and cradled her to my chest. No matter how many times I held her to me, and felt her little face nuzzle against my skin, would I ever get used to the burst of completion she brought me. I'd played thousands of shows with fans screaming and crying, begging for another song, one more key, yet nothing compared to the way this tiny human made me feel. My thumb brushed the soft, untainted flesh of her cheek, while my other hand braced her weight against my pec.

She grunted, making a loud sucking sound as she settled into a contented sleep. Angel was a good baby. She was sweet, soft, and the most perfect thing I'd ever accomplished in my life. Every single day, I was more and more amazed that this beautiful creation belonged to me. "You are so damn pretty, Angel. I think pinks your color," I told her, running my hand down the fuzzy pink bodysuit she wore, letting her warmth absorb through my palm. "Wanna go listen to some tunes, darlin'?"

"She needs to eat and be put down for a nap. All she did was scream the whole time I was trying to shop," Angela hissed, her dark eyes flashing with annoyance. "Big fucking inconvenience if you ask me. About as worthless as you are."

"I'm useful enough to keep your ass in the latest fashion though, right?" I glared at the woman that'd changed my life the most in the last ten months. She was dressed in the latest Gucci from head to fucking toe. A floral lace dress that cost more than my sofa draped her willowy form, the matching sandals on her feet were more than I'd made on my very first gig. Sometimes I wanted to rip the clothes from her back and burn the shit in the pit and watch her actually feel something.

Angela was my biggest mistake. I held Angel tighter as the thought wormed its way in. While I couldn't bring myself to regret the decisions that brought my daughter into this world, I would regret Angela was her mother every single fucking day. The woman knew nothing about being a mom and didn't care to learn. I knew Angela didn't want to have Angel, but I'd hoped after her birth, my wife would come around and we could try to be a real family. How wrong I was. "I told you not to be talking about her like that."

"She doesn't even know what I'm saying." Angela sat the bag she had on the island and sorted through the contents. "Plus, you knew what you were getting into. You wanted that baby, and you got her. You didn't have to marry me. I was more than willing to get an abortion, and you said, if I had the baby you would make sure I didn't want for anything. I'm just making sure you uphold your end of the bargain."

Angela's ability to be a selfish shrew was beyond anything I'd ever seen. My own mother had been a first-class loser, a drunk and with several other addictions, and it wasn't until I'd been placed in foster care that I truly understood what it was to have parents. I was ten years old when the state took me, and placed me with the Cullens. But Angela was on a whole new level. If there was an award for being an egotistical bitch, she'd win first place.

One drunken stupid night, and I was going to pay for the rest of my life. It was fine. She could have every single cent I made for the privilege of holding Angel in my arms, but judging by the diamond bracelet she pulled out of that Pasha Fine Jewelry box I was going to be bankrupted in a year. I shifted Angel's sweet form to my other shoulder, pointing at the diamond's sparkling from white gold. "How much did that set me back?"

"Only about thirty grand," she snickered, pulling the delicate strand from the box and slipping it around her thin wrist. I was tempted to march across the kitchen, and rip it from her greedy hands. Nothing would've appeased me more than watching those gems scatter across the fucking floor. Perhaps if I wasn't holding my precious daughter, I would've. Her dark lashes fluttered, and her chocolate gaze bounced to mine. "It's pretty isn't it?"

When Angela had come to me nine months ago and told me she was pregnant, I'd convinced myself we could be a real family. Her apprehensions about being a mother were unfounded, and once Angel was born, she would see just how wonderful having a child could be. I didn't love Angela, and never did. That's the truth. I was willing to give her everything despite my lack of affection, but each passing day it was becoming more and more clear, it was never going to happen.

In a month, I was leaving for a twelve-month tour across the country, and I'd planned to have her come, not only to take care of Angel but to enjoy the different cities we would visit. The thought of spending one more unnecessary moment with this woman wrecked my nerves. If all she wanted was the money, there was no reason to keep enduring her abuse day in and day out. "You know you don't have to be here to spend the money, right?"

She glared at me from where she stood next to the island. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're free to take the money and get the hell out of my house. If you really don't want me, or your daughter, just go, Angela. I'm not forcing you to be here." A satisfied smirk pulled at her lips, and her black eyebrow lifted with intrigue. I believe this was the happiest I'd seen her since before she got pregnant. "Go. Do whatever makes you happy, because you know, you're the only one that matters."

I wasn't even remotely surprised when she grabbed the bags from the countertop, and turned toward our bedroom, saying, "You know what? You're right. Give me twenty minutes, and I will be out of your hair for good. Good-fucking-riddance."

I stood there in a towel in the middle of the kitchen holding my daughter as my wife packed a bag. I was standing in the exact same spot, running my hand up and down Angel's back when Angela reappeared, looking happier than she had on our wedding day. She threw the strap of her Gucci duffle bag over her shoulder as she scooped up her keys. She pinned me with the coldest, unfeeling eyes I'd ever seen, and I swear I felt frostbitten. I thanked God for the numbness overtaking my chest because it was far better than the sting of her words over the last several months. Her pointed chin lifted and she smiled with a shrug. "I wish I could say it's been fun, but I'd be lying through my damn teeth."

She slammed the door so hard the wall shook, and Angel jerked awake with a squeak. "Shhh, shhh, darlin'. Daddy's gotcha, and I ain't ever letting go."

I stood there long after Angela's car pulled out of the garage. I stood there until the sound of gravel popping beneath her tires quieted. My eyes drifted closed and I took a deep breath, slowly exhaling. What I wouldn't give to drink for the next week, maybe throw the party of the century. It was hard to believe I was free of that heartless witch. Eventually she would come back. She was like a leech and wouldn't let me go until she'd sucked the last piece of my soul from me.

Angel's squeal brought me back to reality, and I crossed the kitchen to where Angela had dropped her diaper bag. "You're okay, love. I gotcha." Kissing the top of her head, I held her tight as I grabbed the strap and hauled her bag onto the island. Sorting through the contents, I retrieved her bottle and shook the formula. Warmth flooded my chest when my daughter's lips puckered before her mouth opened wide, greedily attacking the nipple. "That's my precious baby."

I was rocking her, peppering kisses on her forehead, amused by her endless appetite. For a one-month-old baby, she sure ate a lot, I thought with a smile. The creak of the steps behind me reminded me I wasn't completely alone, and I turned to find Bella standing in the doorway. Her forehead wrinkled and confusion darkened her eyes. "Did Angela leave again already?"

"Yep," I confirmed, nodding. "She won't be coming back either. I will be changing the code to the alarm so …"

"What? She just left? She isn't coming back?" Bella took a few hesitant steps toward me, her gaze fixated on the infant I held. "What about Angel? Tell me she didn't just leave her daughter behind like that."

I scoffed, adjusting Angel in my arms. When Bella's wide eyes danced down my body for the tenth time today, I remembered I was merely wearing a towel. I didn't miss the interest in her gaze, and I'd known for the past year, Bella had a bit of a crush on me. She was far too young, however, hell, she'd just turned eighteen two months ago.

That didn't stop you from kissing her last year, now did it? Shut the fuck up. It was a damn slip-up and should've never happened.

Avoiding those bright green eyes, I swallowed hard, pushing the memory away. "Bella? Could you hold her real quick? I need to go get dressed and make a phone call."

"Yeah, definitely," she nodded, hurrying across toward me, and scooping the baby from my arms. I heard her gasp when her fingers brushed my arm, but I gently settled Angel against her and turned away.

Opening a drawer, I pulled out the card I'd gotten for Bella, and tossed it on the countertop. This marked the third anniversary of Bella cleaning for me. I scoffed as I looked at the rose red envelope. Having Bella as my maid for the last three years was probably the longest relationship I'd ever had with a woman. Sometime in between her cleaning, she'd become a pretty good friend as well, always there when I needed to talk.

Too bad a list of bad decisions had ruined our friendship. That wasn't entirely true, marrying Angela had ruined our friendship. Glancing up at her, I pushed the envelope toward her. "I didn't forget your anniversary this year. Here."

I didn't wait for her to open it. Promptly, I turned on my heel and headed for my room. "I will be out in a few minutes. Then, I have to make arrangements for this tour I have coming up."

Thanks for reading, and come back soon.