Posted 2022-02-12; Beta'd by Eeyorefan12
"She's out for the night," Edward said, coming down the stairs and into the dining room, the baby monitor in hand. He hoped Annie was, anyway. It had taken some convincing to get her to settle in the playpen. Grandma and Grandpa's place was pretty exciting all around, and sleep was not on her busy little mind's list of priorities. In Boston, he would sometimes play the piano for her while she drifted off, but here in Stockbridge, the piano was too far away for her to hear. He regretted not thinking ahead and recording a few familiar pieces for her.
She did at least have Gabby, her own personal guard dog with her. Edward reminded himself to take advantage of being at his parents' and have one of the handlers bathe the dog, who had managed to roll in something vile just before they'd left home. He was surprised his mom had let her into the house smelling as she did. Still, Gabby's watchful protectiveness of her two-year-old mistress endeared her to everyone in the family.
"Thank you," Bella said, coming in from the kitchen, holding out a beer for him. He took it only to set it down on the table, pulling her into a corner to press her against the wall, kissing her.
"How about you thank me later," he whispered, "in our bedroom."
She opened her mouth to him as he kissed her again, letting him tease her with his tongue.
"Beds are nice, but rooms without Sprout bunking in them are even better."
True.
Bella lifted a leg up and pressed her calf against his, a very cute attempt to lock him in place. And a distantly familiar one.
"Bella?"
"Hmm?"
"I think the last time you tried this move was the night we met, and then you—"
"Hush, you," she said, giggling. As if on cue, she began to tip sideways but she threw her arms around his neck to keep herself upright. She looked him in the eyes. "And I think it worked out just fine."
He hummed in reply, encircling her waist with his arms, moving his lips to that sweet spot right behind her ear that made her—
"Oh hell, you two. Get a room!" Rosie said, walking into the dining room and then turning right around again.
"Language!" Esme called from the kitchen.
"Yeah," Bella whispered. "Let's go find a room. Like Thorny's office."
Edward snorted out a brief laugh, picturing just what kind of retribution might be at hand if they followed through.
"Maybe we shouldn't anger the woman who has access to the men with guns." Both he and Carlisle had been more than surprised when Rosie refused to quit her job after the baby arrived. She'd cut back her hours, certainly, and Emmett was at home almost full time with Lily, but Edward's sister was as involved in her work as before.
"Y'know, you have access to men with guns too," Bella countered, moaning as he slid his hands down to grip her hips and then her ass, pulling her more tightly against him. "And you personally trained every one of them."
"I'd prefer to avoid a blood feud, so I vote for the hot tub," he mumbled into her neck.
"Mmm . . . that does sound nice. It is handy to have a hot tub at one's disposal."
This was true. There were a lot of other benefits to being in Stockbridge, and Edward sighed, thinking of them. They weren't able to visit as much as he would have liked. His work wasn't overly demanding, and while he could usually get out of the office on time, it was still a long trip with a little one in tow. Still, they made the effort every couple of months, as did Rosie and Emmett, to get the whole family together. The older Annie got, the more he wanted her to experience the joy of the outdoors, as he had when he was younger. But his work was in Boston, as was Bella's.
"Dessert is almost ready. Are you two decent?" Carlisle called.
"Not likely," Rosie answered for them, walking back into the dining room with her glass of wine. "They're working on another grandchild for you, Mom," she said more loudly.
Sisters.
"Rosalie!" Esme's utterance was full of maternal rebuke.
"We do have clothes on, if that's what you're asking," Edward answered his father.
Bella began to pull away. "Oh, I think your mom made her chocolate ganache cake."
Edward stared at his empty arms. "You're leaving me for dessert?"
"Only temporarily." She winked at him. "Priorities, Cullen."
Though she said it lightheartedly, Edward couldn't help but wonder if Rosie's comment hadn't struck an unhappy chord with his wife. He was ready for another child, but Bella wasn't. He didn't blame her. Annie was a handful and Bella's last pregnancy had been difficult. Still, he wanted their daughter to have siblings—and close ones. It was harder than he wanted to admit to wait on Bella's readiness.
They helped set the table for dessert. He watched Bella lay out the napkins, assessing her body language. No, he decided, she'd not been upset by Rosie's comment.
The rest of the family gathered, catching each other up on the day's small developments. Both Annie and Lily were asleep, and it was a rare moment for Edward to enjoy, having his whole family together at one table—without a couple of two-year-olds making their demands known.
"Oh my God," Bella said, taking a bite of Esme's famous triple layer chocolate creation.
"Better than what Edward had to offer, Bella?" Rosie said, lifting an eyebrow at her sister-in-law.
Predictable as clock-work, Bella's cheeks flamed.
"Thank you, my darling sister." Edward rolled his eyes.
Rosie ignored him and smirked at Bella. "I am never going to get tired of that. She is way too easy to tease."
Bella took a sip of her wine and cleared her throat. "To answer your question, Thorny, and with apologies to Esme, not even close."
Emmett snorted out his beer. Edward smiled into his. God, he loved this woman.
"So, Mom, is everything ready for the church bazaar tomorrow?" Alice asked, politely redirecting the conversation.
"It is, yes." Esme looked to her husband, seated beside her. There was a look that passed between them, one that Edward knew preceded something important. It was the kind of look they'd exchanged right before his dad had announced plans to shift careers.
"This seems as good a time as any," Carlisle said quietly. He smiled gently at Esme, who suddenly looked like she was about to cry.
Edward put his spoon down. He watched Rosie do the same. Yes, something was up.
His father cleared his throat. "I have some news, and I'm afraid it's not all of the good kind."
Edward had been right, and he didn't like it. Not at all.
"Maybe start with the good part of it, then?" Rosie asked, her forehead wrinkled with worry.
Edward glanced around the table, watching the faces that circled it. Jasper's was notably pointed down. He knew. Whatever it was, Carlisle had already told him before his own son and daughters.
Definitely not good.
Carlisle sighed. "The good news is that we caught it early. The bad news is that I have pancreatic cancer."
A shocked silence settled over the table.
"That's—that's not good," Bella finally whispered.
"No, it's not," Carlisle agreed. "But it is very early, which is lucky. They caught it during my physical."
Thank God, Edward thought. And to think he'd once groused about the annual physicals Carlisle had insisted that everyone in the organization have. Good health insurance, steel-toed boots, and a mandatory annual physical. He'd joked that it was like being in the Marines. His dad had been unimpressed.
But pancreatic cancer. No wonder Mom looked like she was about to cry. He wanted to join her.
"So while the prognosis is . . . hopeful, it's going to mean some very intensive treatment. I'll need to step away from work for quite some time." He looked down. "I'd wondered if it might be time to . . . retire things."
No way. It was Edward's first and most surprising thought. He looked at Bella. She lifted her eyebrows at him.
"Retire, as in shut everything down? Even"—Rosie glanced around the table—"the, uh, charities?"
Carlisle nodded. "I'm not sure who I'd have to step in for me, even temporarily."
Rosie looked flummoxed. While she worked on the legal end, she didn't have the medical background and knowledge of strategic planning needed to do what Carlisle did. Neither did Jasper. Nor was there anyone in line to be the face of the organization—the cover that allowed them to do what they did behind the scenes. As competent as he was, Al couldn't assume the role—nor was he a Cullen. No, the only other person in the family who could do what his father did was . . . me. I'm the only one.
Edward listened to the others ask questions about Carlisle's health, taking note of the answers his father gave. While most of the family moved to the living room to continue the conversation, Edward tugged Bella aside. "Come for a walk with me?"
She cocked her head at him but then nodded. "Sure."
Leaving the baby monitor with Alice, they walked out to the garden, taking their favorite path towards the little glade out by the rowan trees.
"How're you doing?" Bella asked.
Edward exhaled. How was he doing?
His dad had cancer, and he knew more than he wished to about the poor odds for pancreatic cancer. But, he reminded himself, the doctors had caught it early. The treatment was going to be awful, but his dad was otherwise healthy. He could handle it. He could beat this.
Edward was also thinking about how he didn't want all his father's work—his work—to simply go to waste. Carlisle had branched out with the medications they produced in the last year, moving into the insulin market. It was brutally over-priced, and their illegal generics saved lives every day, though there was still more work to be done.
He thought of all the people he loved and how lucky they were not to have to ever worry about having to afford any medicine they needed. It was a privilege that he wanted to make a commonplace reality.
"I want my dad to be okay . . . and I really don't want him to have to shut it all down. This is . . . it's his life's work."
Bella took his hand, squeezing it. "I understand."
He turned and studied her expression, realizing he was looking for answers to the questions he hadn't asked yet. It was almost fully dark, but the rising moon was casting enough light to see the sincerity in her features.
"You're willing to—do you want me to—?"
"Do this again? Put yourself in danger? Be up at all hours, planning criminal activities? God no. But I know what you want to do, and I know what it means to you to do the right thing. I know that some criminality is . . . with good cause."
"When the hell did organized crime become the right thing for you, Swan?"
She pretended to have to think about it. "I'm not exactly sure but . . .well, I did meet this thug in an alley once, and he's turned out okay."
Even now, she could make him smile.
She lowered her voice, serious again. "You matter to me. I'm not thrilled about the risks—honestly, I'm terrified by them, but I know that it's not like you'd be planning to get in bed with people like Aro again."
No, he wasn't planning on that.
Of course, he hadn't planned on killing Aro, either. Plans had a way of going sideways. They'd been lucky that the fallout from that event had been surprisingly mild—at least so far—but it didn't mean they'd be that lucky again in a similar circumstance.
Plans. As in planning. Interesting choice of words, Cullen.
He eyed her carefully, reaching out to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. "There are no guarantees. You know how that works, Bella. I would be breaking a whole slew of laws. I could wind up in prison—even miss part of Annie's growing up. Is that really something you could live with? Happily?" She hadn't been shy about showing her relief when he'd told her he was moving out of this aspect of the family business. She loved the work she was doing in Boston, and she certainly liked having him home at predictable times.
She was still holding his hand and she looked down and played with his fingers for a moment before returning her gaze to his. "Like I said, you matter to me," she said softly. "I can figure out the other stuff. I know it won't be forever. They've caught your dad's cancer early. I just know he'll recover, Edward. And it would be your gift to him . . . to have things ready for when he comes back."
He smiled wanly at her attempt to reassure him, nodding. She was dead right on one front. He did want his dad to have the organization to come back to—another reason to fight, beyond family.
"But I know you want to do this"—she gestured to the compound—"and not just for your Dad or yourself. I know you want to help people and that you'll be miserable if you knew you could have and didn't. You being happy—right with yourself—that's enough reason for me to support you."
He cupped the back of her head with his hand, drawing her close and kissing her. Sometimes he was convinced that his clever wife knew him better than he knew himself. She was right; it wouldn't be forever. Whether living a life of crime or not, they were more than enough for each other.
And Bella and Annie—they were the only forever he needed.
- Fin -
When I initially handed over the first ten or so chapters of this story to Eeyorefan12, I wasn't sure if it was even worth developing. My many thanks to her for cheering me on in writing it, pointing out when I wrote it right off the edge of the table and into the dustbin, and generally, for applying her incredible intelligence to this story.
Thank you for reading along and sharing your reactions, encouragement, and criticisms. It's all been useful feedback.
A few of you have asked if there is a sequel in the works: Yes, there is. Book two is plotted out with a few chapters written.
Until next time, folks!
- Erin
Eeyorefan's note: I've said it before, but working with Erin is an absolute joy. Her openness to honest critique and her willingness to listen to and implement occasional suggestions are traits I can only aspire to in my own writing. She has never made me feel anything less than a partner, particularly on this story which required so much in-depth research as she created these human characters we hadn't met before.
Of course, having met them, I never want to let them go, so I'm equally thrilled that she is planning to share "Book Two" with you guys. See you then!
P.S. Erin has promised me at least one outtake from The Loose End. Have no fear—I'm holding her to it! ;)
– Carol
DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.