Another chapter from our girl! We'll hear from her again later in the story.

Much love to Hadley for her red pen!

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See you Thursday for EPOV... :)

18

Bella POV

"You're not nervous, are you?" Edward asks when we're in the shower together late Saturday morning.

"To meet your parents today?" I clarify, scrubbing my hair, suds between my fingers.

"Yeah." He leans his head back under the stream, water cascading over his face, his chest, and down his inked arm.

"I'm not nervous," I lie. "I know they're gonna like me."

He laughs. "Oh, yeah?"

We switch spots, and he purposely rubs his body on mine. I laugh, soaking up the attention and loving the fact that he just can't keep his hands off me.

"What's not to like?" I ask. "I'm nice, and I'm hella into their son."

He kisses me, our faces wet. "They're gonna love you."

I smile. "Okay, I'm glad you said that because I actually am a little nervous. I was just going for the whole faking it 'til you make it mentality."

"Don't be nervous. They're great. You're great. It's gonna be great."

I smile at his cheesiness. "Great."

While I rinse my hair, he uses my loofah. I offered to get him his own, and he said no, but lately every time we shower together, he uses mine. The corners of his tub are filled with my products from the salon, too. I've accidentally infiltrated his bathroom, but that was bound to happen with how often I'm staying over here.

"Thought you didn't want a loofah," I tease, calling him out.

"I've surrendered to the idea," he says, staring down at his body, washing himself. "Not using washcloths means less laundry." He looks up at me, raising his brows. "I'm so down with the loofah."

I laugh. "And what's your excuse for using my shampoo?" I taunt, playfully pinching his ass when he faces away from me so I can wash his back.

He laughs in surprise and catches my hand, turning around for a quick kiss. "I use your shampoo because it smells like you. So."

I wasn't expecting such a sweet reply, and it completely softens me to the point of nearly fucking melting.

Three little words linger on my tongue, but I stop myself from blurting them out because… because I don't know why.

I guess because we haven't said them before.

Because I don't know if he's there yet.

Because we're naked and in the shower, and maybe I don't have to say everything that's on my mind all the time.

But I feel it. And I mean it.

I love him.

I probably have for a while, if I'm being honest.

When I think back on our trip to Leavenworth, there had been a moment when I wondered if what he was feeling could be more, too. Other than the Paul fiasco, things between us felt different on that trip. Edward always has a lot on his shoulders, but those couple of days we got away, it seemed like he felt lighter. More at ease with himself and with us.

At one point, Rose had made a joke about everyone loving me after I complained about them roasting me during my own birthday trip. After she said it, Edward squeezed my thigh, and when I looked over at him, all I could see on his face was pure affection.

Desire.

All I could see was love.

But he didn't say it, and he still hasn't. Which is fine. I understand things with his ex might play into him wanting to take it slow with me. To be cautious. I'm willing to follow his lead. I'm willing to be patient and not rush into anything, to not push to spend time with his daughter because the timing has to be right for the both of us. And he's worth it.

With his broad back still facing me in the shower, he turns around and stares at me strangely, a hint of humor on his face. Likely because I've suddenly gone silent.

"You okay? What's going on, woman?"

"Just thinking." I wash his back, and when we move to switch spots again, he grabs onto me and keeps us both under the stream.

"If you don't want me to use your shampoo, I won't," he says simply, lips brushing my ear.

I have to laugh. He thinks I'm being weird about the shampoo.

With my arms wrapped around the back of his neck, I kiss him hard. Fully. With our wet, slick bodies pressed together, I can feel him just so. I tell him with my embrace what I'm holding hostage from my mouth.

That I have hearts for eyes.

I love him.

And with one simple admission about why he uses my shampoo, I'm pretty fucking sure he loves me, too.

=.=.=

Later that afternoon, Edward drives us half an hour out of the city to meet his parents at a winery.

"What's this place called again?" I ask, wanting to Google it.

"Chateau Lill."

"Chateau. Fancy schmancy."

He laughs softly. "I guess. My mom loves wine."

I stare intently at my phone as I scroll through photos of the winery. "Wow, this place is ten acres?" I keep scrolling. "Dude, they have alpacas? And goats?"

"Dude," he mimics, smirking. "I don't know... I've never been."

"They're adorable," I gush. "We have to find them and pet them and love them, okay?"

"You're cute when you get excited," he tells me, amused.

"No, the alpacas are cute. And I'm serious—we have to see them before we leave today, okay?"

"Okay."

"Are you saying that to appease me?" I ask, teasing.

With a glance over at me, he says, "Nope. I'm going to find every animal at this damn place and let you get a selfie with them."

"Now you really are just trying to appease me." I laugh and lean over the console, so I can kiss his cheek.

"Lay one more on me," he goads, and I happily kiss him again.

Soon enough, we arrive at the winery.

Edward and I walk into the chateau, hand-in-hand, and we're immediately greeted by a bubbly hostess.

"Welcome to Chateau Lill! Are you here for the wedding or just for wine tasting?"

I feel like we're both dressed pretty casually—Edward in black jeans and a plaid button-down, and me in a simple dress—to be considered wedding guests.

"Wine tasting," Edward replies for us. "We're meeting people; they might already be here."

"Feel free to take a look around, and if you don't find them, I'll get a table ready."

"Great, thanks."

We walk through the tasting room, and when Edward doesn't spot his folks, we head out onto the terrace. In the distance, there's an open-air tent, and further down the grounds, I can see rows and rows of white chairs filled with guests.

"Should we crash the wedding?" I tease.

"Don't joke. My dad would probably be down," he says, slightly serious.

"I like him already."

Edward squeezes my hand. "Ah. There they are," he says, guiding us to where his parents are sitting. They smile when we approach.

"Sorry, were you waiting long?" Edward asks, and they shake their heads. "Mom, Dad, this is my girlfriend, Bella," he introduces.

His dad stands and extends his arm. "Carl. It's so good to meet you," he says warmly as we shake.

"Likewise," I say kindly, smiling.

"I'm Esme," his mom says next, and we shake, too, a smile never leaving her face. "So glad you could join us. We've been dying to meet you."

"Me too," I say honestly. "Edward's told me wonderful things about you both."

Edward pulls out my chair, scooting it in just as I sit. His mom starts to speak, but the conversation gets interrupted when the server comes over. After a little deliberation, we all decide on starting with the red wine tastings.

"So, Bella. Edward mentioned your parents are hop farmers?" Esme prompts, and I nod. "I told him we could go to a brewery today instead, if you preferred, but he swore it was fine…"

Edward laughs. "She said it was fine, Mom. I wasn't lying to you."

"Totally fine," I agree, chuckling. "I drink beer too often, anyway. It's good to class it up every now and then."

"How long has your family grown hops?" Carl asks.

"Forever," I exaggerate. "The farm has been in my family for, like, a hundred years?" I say. "My dad grew up there, but he and my mom have been running it for the last twenty-five years or so. Think it was right before I was born."

"I can't say I'm a big beer drinker, but I might just have to start," Esme replies.

"Bella's kind of a beer connoisseur. I'm sure she could help you find one you like," Edward says, bringing a hand up to my shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

I laugh at his exaggeration. "I'm so not. Only when it comes to my parents' stuff."

"Does your family make beer, too?" Carl wonders, sounding genuinely interested.

"No. They just grow the hops and sell them to brewers. I think my dad wanted to get into brewing at one point," I add as an afterthought, "but it's a whole other thing to take on."

They nod in agreement as the server brings over our glasses, and the first bottle of wine we'll be trying. She goes over the tasting notes and flavors then pours a small amount into each of our glasses before disappearing.

"Gotta say, wine is wine to me," Carl muses. "I never really taste whatever the hell they—"

"Carl," Esme reprimands with a bemused look on her face. "At least wait until the poor server has walked off before you start to say stuff like that."

"She was gone! She couldn't hear me. And I wasn't saying anything bad. Just… wine is wine. Tastes like grapes. I don't smell tennis balls or fresh-cut garden hose or any of that other crap."

Edward and I laugh while Esme just shakes her head like she's offended, but the smirk on her face says otherwise.

"I take it you've watched Somm?" I ask because he's quoting exact lines from it.

"Yes!" Esme chimes in for him.

"What's Somm?" Edward asks.

"It's a documentary that follows these four people who are trying to pass the master sommelier test. Apparently, it's really challenging to get through," I tell him.

"I find the whole master sommelier process so fascinating." Esme hooks a thumb in Carl's direction. "He doesn't. Clearly."

"What can I say? It's hoity-toity, pretentious bullshit." He swirls his wine, takes a large whiff, then tastes it. "Tastes like grapes."

"We get it, Dad," Edward admonishes with a small smile. "Let Mom have her fun."

Esme beams at her son. "Thank you."

In the distance, we hear applause and whistles, and our attention is diverted toward the ceremony.

"I love weddings," Esme comments absently, before turning to Edward. "Oh, did you hear your cousin is engaged?"

Edward drinks his wine. "Yeah, I got the 'save-the-date' or whatever."

His mom shares some of the details that she knows of, and just… I don't know. It suddenly sends my head to a weird place. Not a bad place per se, but now I'm wondering what Edward and Chelsea's wedding was like.

What color suit did he wear? Did he cry when he saw her? Did he write his own vows?

And then I wonder if getting married is something he even wants to do again one day.

"—hairdresser?"

I zone back in and sip my wine. "Sorry, what was that?"

I can feel Edward's eyes on me.

"I was saying Edward mentioned you're a hairdresser," she repeats, expression kind.

"I am. I've been doing it for a while now, and I really love it. I'm hoping one day I can have my own salon or whatever, but for now, things are good."

She looks pleased. "I've been going to this great gal for years at Shine Hair Salon. Her name's Judy."

I nod encouragingly. "Oh, yeah, I know that place."

"Do you know Judy?" Esme asks.

"I can't say I do," I say, slightly amused.

"Mom." Edward laughs. "Just because Bella's a hairdresser, that doesn't mean she knows all hairdressers."

Esme scoffs. "I just thought I'd ask! Judy's great, anyway. We've become very close over time."

"That's my favorite part," I agree. "Seeing the same clients throughout the years. Creating that bond." I finish the wine in my glass, and Edward's hand slips under the table to squeeze my thigh affectionately.

The server comes over again and refills our glasses with the second wine we're tasting. She remarks dryly about not wanting to go into too much detail about the tasting notes and that she'll let us decide for ourselves what flavors we pick up on.

"I told you she heard you!" Esme whispers to Carl after she walks off.

"Ah, it's fine. Nothing I wouldn't have said to her face," Carl grumbles.

I chuckle, swirling my wine, appreciating how easy it feels with Edward's parents. I knew they'd be sweet and kind because of the way Edward is, but I didn't think it'd feel so natural with them.

"Enough of that," Esme says, waving off her husband. "Why don't you tell us more about yourself, Bella?"

=.=.=

After we finish with the tasting, we order the wine we each enjoyed the most. Cabernet for Edward and his dad and pinot noir for Esme and me. Halfway through my second full glass, I start to get warm and tipsy. I forget that vino always sneaks up on me. If the way Edward is behaving is any indication, I think he's on his way to being wine drunk, too.

He's handsy. Not inappropriately so, but he's always finding ways to touch me. An arm slung over the back of my chair, fingers brushing my skin. Or a kiss to my shoulder every now and then. It's sweet, and I crave his affection. I love that he's not afraid to be this way with me in front of his parents.

By the time we're ready to leave, the sky is pinked with sunset.

Carl graciously insists on paying for the bill despite Edward and I both resisting, but after a little back and forth, he pays, and we thank him. When it's time to leave, both Esme and Carl hug me goodbye. Just before Esme and I pull away, she whispers "thank you" in my ear. I'm not exactly sure what she's thanking me for, but it's not hard to guess that it has to do with her son. Maybe she sees that I make him happy, and her appreciation warms my heart.

Instead of walking out with them to the parking lot, Edward tugs on my arm and pulls me in the opposite direction.

"Let's walk around the grounds for a little bit," he suggests. "Gotta track down that alpaca."

"Are you sure you're not just buying some time, so you can walk off this wine?" I tease, my limbs buzzing and my head light.

He laughs. "That too."

We walk together, his arm around my shoulders. Music from the wedding reception in the distance fills our silence, but it's nice.

I sigh, content. Just happy and comfortable.

I take in our surroundings. The grounds are amazing with lush lawns, rolling hills, and the vineyard in the distance. Everything glows from the setting sun, soft shadows and golden hues.

"Today was fun," I murmur. "Your parents are great. They're really sweet and down to earth."

He lets go of me, but he links our fingers together, bringing my hand up to his mouth to kiss it. "Pretty sure my folks love you."

"Well… I'm lovable," I tease.

When I look at him, he's grinning down at the gravel.

"You really are," he whispers, glancing over at me, tenderness in his gaze.

I revel in his reply and that look in his eyes because even though it's not those three little words, it still means so much to me.

"You got quiet for a second earlier today," he says after a beat. "Any particular reason why or…"

I think back, but know exactly what he's referring to.

"I was just… thinking."

He squints at the burning sky. "I want to know. If you want to tell me."

Gravel kicks up under our shoes, so I walk us off the path, under some trees.

"So, all of that wedding talk…" I prompt.

"Was kinda weird, I know. Sorry. I swear my mom wasn't hinting at anything. She's just excited for my cousin."

I smile sympathetically. "I wasn't in my head because I thought she was making hints about us. I was thinking about your wedding with Chelsea," I say honestly.

He's stoic. Contemplative. "I see."

"Strange, I guess, but I couldn't stop myself from wondering all about it."

"Yeah." He stares down at his boots as we lazily walk under the canopy of trees. "What do you wanna know?"

"Nothing. Everything?" I laugh a little, hoping he is being honest when he asks me what I'm curious about. "How old were you two when you got married?"

"I was twenty-six. She's a year younger than I am."

"Ah. How did you meet?"

"Mutual friends. We started dating when I was twenty-one."

"Hmm." I don't know why I'm craving this information, but Chelsea is such a big part of his life. Their dynamic makes me interested, I guess. "You waited five years to get married?"

"I didn't feel ready before then," he admits. "Even then, I wouldn't necessarily say I was ready. Maybe no one ever is."

"I'm sure some people feel ready." I hold back from adding that I'm sure it has to do with the person you're marrying because I don't know enough about their relationship, and I'm not trying to criticize what they had.

He just nods. "Yeah, maybe."

"Where was the wedding?" I ask, my fingers lightly brushing bark.

He's quiet again, and we circle the tree. "My dad's buddy has some land outside of Seattle, so we did it there."

"No fancy chateau wedding?" I tease, trying to keep this light, but my heart is heavy with a possessiveness I hadn't realized was there before now.

"Fancy isn't really my vibe," he says, watching me carefully.

"It's not mine, either," I agree, and his smile is laced with affection.

"Anyway, it was a small wedding. She doesn't have a lot of family. No one traveled from Texas."

Other questions invade my head, but I don't push. Instead I ask, "Do you ever see yourself getting married again one day?"

He thinks about this for longer than I thought he would, but I like that he's taking his time to really answer my question.

"I do," he eventually says.

I laugh lightly, echoing him. "I do."

He grins and pulls me in, and I drape my arms around the back of his neck.

"Funny choice of words, I know," he says quietly, searching my face.

"They were very fitting."

"Yeah," he says softly.

I tip my chin upward to kiss him. "Okay. I'll stop questioning you now. I was just curious."

"It's fine." He kisses me back, letting his mouth linger on mine. "I want to tell you whatever you wanna know, Bell."

"I love that about you," I whisper.

The word hangs between us.

His eyes shine.

His mouth turns up.

My hands run up his chest, clutching at his shirt, before my fingers graze his jaw, affection guiding my every move. With one more peck to his lips, I hope he can feel the adoration behind my touch.

I hope he feels safe enough with me to fall again.