A/N for 2019-06-06: Beta'd by the amazing Eeyorefan12, who prunes my characters down to size and keeps me from running amok with the plot.

It remains, as always, delightful to hear from you all. If you feel so inclined, tell me what line or part that tickled you most.

- Erin

Later that evening, Edward drove them home in her car, politely obeying the speed limit almost the entire way. When they arrived, it was late for the children's bedtime.

"I'm really glad it's the weekend," Bella sighed, stretching her arms skyward as she stood on the sidewalk.

Edward smiled. "Me too."

"Says the man who doesn't even need a job." she teased, resisting an eye roll.

"Who says I don't need a job?" His voice was pure innocence, and this time she did roll her eyes, but he kept talking. "I have a very important job, actually . . . several of them. Let's see . . ." He leaned against the car and started ticking things off on his fingers. "Chauffeur, bodyguard, personal physician . . ." He let his voice trail off as he gave her a mischievous smirk. "Shall I go on?"

She couldn't help her answering smile but shook her head. "No, thank you. I need to get the kids to bed. But, if I were you, I would talk with my boss about a raise because I think someone is taking advantage of you."

Edward's grin could have lit up the night sky. "Maybe I like being 'taken advantage' of."

"Mommy?" said a groggy voice from the back seat.

When she turned towards the rear of the car, Edward got there first, nimbly unbuckling Josh, and then picking him up.

Josh patted Edward's shoulder. "Ice cream," he said, testing it again with his fingers.

"Cold," Edward corrected him. "I feel cold."

Meredith came up to Edward and prodded his hand with her index finger. "Why are you cold? Alice is too."

"Poor circulation," he sighed. Then he gently poked her hand back. "Yours seems excellent, though."

Without further comment or question, Meredith skipped inside, and Bella breathed out a small breath of relief. She marveled at the ease with which all the Cullens could excuse their differences but these little moments still concerned her. The secret was safe for now.

For how much longer, she wasn't sure. She tucked the worry away.

When the children were in bed, Bella and Edward sat down together on one of the couches in the living room. It felt strange to just be sitting calmly with him, the high feeling and tension of the day having faded a little. Now they were together in more than one sense of the word, and Bella was beginning to grapple with the practical implications of that.

"Edward," Bella began, "I have to ask you about something. I know you didn't want to talk about it before, but things have changed a lot, so—"

"I'll answer," he assured her, a thumb brushing over her fingers.

"You said the Volturi came to check on you."

His thumb stopped moving.

"Yes." The word left his lips reluctantly.

"Will they come again?" she asked.

"There's a very, very small chance of it, but Alice will see, if they do."

Bella nodded, but she knew she must still looked confused. "But she doesn't see everything. She didn't see what happened to Matt."

There was a gentle squeeze over her hand. "No."

They sat in the evening's quiet, the soft whoosh of traffic, and the air from the furnace fan a low hum around them.

"How does this work?" Bella finally asked. "You won't age, and we can move, sure, in time, but how do we explain this to the children?" There were so many other questions she had, but this seemed the greatest at the moment. "Because if they say something to the wrong person, and people begin to suspect—"

"I think," he began softly, "that you underestimate how trusting children are, and how difficult they find it to judge an adult's age."

"Mer is—"

"Very perceptive, as is Joshua," Edward finished for her. "No doubt. But they also think of all adults as being old. They don't distinguish between you and Charlie."

"Seriously?" she asked.

"Really," he smiled. "That won't be a problem for some time, and even then, there are ways around it."

"How?"

He chuckled. "Make-up."

The thought of Edward wearing make-up made her head spin. She settled for giving it a quick shake. "Okay," she said, sighing.

He'd snuck both her hands into his by this point. "What else is troubling you?"

"That obvious?" she asked.

"Yes." There was that dazzling smile again.

She was still an open book to him.

"It's so good just to be with you," she whispered. "I just want to enjoy that. I wish I could. But I can't. I'm worried about the children, and keeping them safe from . . . bad things, and from . . ." she struggled for the courage to say it. "I know what you said, but I'm still afraid you'll leave again."

She heard him take a deep breath, and she knew she was holding hers as she looked down at their linked hands. One of his slipped away, gently brushing at her chin. When she met his eyes, his face wore as much worry as she felt.

"How can I assure you that will not happen? Because it won't. Ever."

"I don't think you can."

"There must be something I can do."

"I really don't know, Edward." She shifted in her seat, the small lump in her abdomen pressing uncomfortably. "I think it will just take time. Like me and car trips," she added.

Now he looked at her quizzically.

"I try to avoid letting the kids drive anywhere with anyone but me now. I mean, I know with Matt . . ." she stopped speaking for a moment. "I know it wasn't an accident, but it isn't like the reaction is a logical one. If I'm with my children then there's no waiting at home wondering where anyone is, and there won't be . . ." she had to take a deep breath, "If we aren't apart, I can't be afraid of a knock at the door, of it being the police again."

The eruption of tears was violent and unwanted, lasting several minutes.

"Sorry," she finally whispered into his shoulder, pulling back.

His embrace loosened slowly. "Don't be. You've been through a lot the last few months and lost someone . . . dear to you. Today, especially, has been long and difficult. This is who you are, and I love you."

She wiped at her eyes. She had to tell him. It wasn't fair to keep him in the dark. "Don't be so sure."

His face pinched. "What do you mean by that?"

"I know you know about my breakdown—"

"You didn't have a breakdown."

She shook her head. "It's what everyone thinks I've gone through, and it's what I thought I went through. I'm still not so sure all of it was a misdiagnosis."

Edward frowned but didn't interrupt, giving her all his attention.

"I've had relapses," she said. "After I had Mer, and Josh."

"Full relapses?"

There was that doctor's voice again.

"No." She held back her small smile. He was so much the same as before, but so different too. "I started having . . . episodes, I'd suppose you call them. Neither of the psychiatrists thought they were full relapses, but both were concerned enough to restart my medication—"

"While you were nursing?"

She held up her hand.

"Sorry," he murmured, and pressed his lips together.

She thought about how to describe what she'd experienced. Matt had tried to be patient, but she'd always felt like she'd failed to convey just how real her experiences had been. "After each birth, I'd have these episodes where I'd vividly imagine bad things happening to my children or to Matt. I couldn't control it. The thoughts would come out of nowhere. The worst part, though, wasn't just imagining these awful things, but how real they felt emotionally. I wouldn't just see the tragedy, I'd feel it, like a little grief bomb going off. Sometimes it would happen every day, or I'd go weeks without having one. They've faded over time, but I still get them."

Edward's face was pained. He squeezed her fingers. "Not that it makes them any easier to endure, but those are completely normal postpartum. Didn't anyone tell you that?"

"My doctors didn't think so," she said quietly, eyes down.

Edward sat thinking, his thumb back to that gentle brushing motion. "Your doctors were poorly trained," he muttered. Then the stroking stopped again, and he shifted to fully face her. "Were you afraid I was going to leave, after you told me this?"

"I told everyone your secret, Edward. You keep saying I'm fine, that I wasn't crazy, but I lost it after Jacob died. You might have been wrong to leave, but I gave you plenty of grounds to stay away."

"Were you afraid I was going to leave now, after you told me this?" he asked again.

She could only nod.

"Never again," he whispered, abandoning her hand and pulling her to him.

She buried her face in his shirt, fingers clutching the fabric. Did she really get to keep him in her life?

"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured into her hair, almost as if he had heard her question to herself.

The tension in her chest eased, and she continued to lean against him, breathing in his scent, relishing in his touch. After a few minutes, she struggled to keep her eyes open. She yawned as she pulled away, quickly putting a hand over her mouth to cover it. "Sorry, it's not the company."

"You're tired."

"Very," she mumbled, stifling another yawn.

When he picked her up, she gasped at the sudden movement. "I can walk," she protested, but weakly.

"Of course you can," he said, moving towards the stairs. "But that would mean letting you go, and I have no interest in doing that until you tell me to." He caught her mischievous look and added, "Please don't."

She sighed into his chest, letting her body sway with the rhythm of his steps.

At the bedroom door, he stopped, but made no move to enter, as if he was waiting for direction.

"Are you, um, staying?" she asked. They hadn't talked about those logistics yet. She didn't think he would go far, if he did leave, but—

"Are you asking me to stay?"

"Yes." The word practically jumped from her mouth.

"Okay." His reply came with a grin. "Do you need . . . a human moment?" His tone was hesitant and she realized he was concerned how she would take his teasing question when it was so reminiscent of their past. She realized, though, that the memory was a good one.

"Sure," she said, slipping down to stand on her own. "Give me a sec."

She stripped out of her clothes quickly, dropping them in the hamper by Matt's dresser. Pulling on a tank top and shorts, she yanked the door open.

Edward was leaning against the wall, arms folded casually across his chest. The pose should have been relaxed, but his posture was anything but casual. When their eyes met, his very black ones were full of something she hadn't seen there before.

The dark gaze pinned her to the spot.

This was not the same boy she'd slept beside ten years ago. And she wasn't the same girl.

This was a man, with a man's appearance, and a man's wants.

She swallowed nervously, a swirl of desire and something like panic tangling in her gut.

Don't be ridiculous, she told herself, this is Edward: the inexperienced boyfriend who'd barely kiss you for fear of killing you. Nothing is going to happen.

Then Edward stepped forward, took her face in his hands, and brought their lips together.

It disrupted all her expectations. If the kiss hours before had been a fire, then this one was an explosion.

His touch had always ignited feeling, and this time was no exception. She hooked her arms around him, and reacquainted herself with the smooth skin and lean muscle of his torso and back.

His hands travelled freely, visiting first the curve of her hips, kneading gently, then sliding up to her chest where they splayed around her rib cage, nudging at the underside of the soft flesh they found there.

When her knees jellied, Edward's arms swept under them, carrying her to the bed where the kisses continued. His fingers became more precise in their destinations, curling around her arms, her face, and then the rounded curve of her breasts.

She felt drunk under his touch, but the desire and the anxiety persisted together, each pulling at her with equal force.

It was when his hips turned towards her that she realized just what kind of effect she was having on him.

This hard flesh had nothing to with him being a vampire, and everything to do with how he wanted her.

Stunned by the realization, she barely registered his mouth at her neck, or its slow descent to her clavicle, and then to the space between her breasts.

He wasn't stopping. At all.

No, this was definitely not the boy she'd known ten years ago.

That final understanding broke her out of her bewildered musings.

"Edward, wait." She pushed at his stony chest.

He pulled back immediately, his face stiff with worry and something else she couldn't name. Like her, he was still breathing quickly, although she knew it had nothing to do with a lack of oxygen.

"I'm so sorry. That was completely unacceptable." He was shaking his head, possibly at himself, before his expression changed to one of alarm. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, I'm just—" She tried to think. To find words. Her blood was occupied in too many other places. "Before, you never—"

"Never showed you how much I wanted you?" He shook his head. "A decade is a long time to regret being stupid, Bella."

She stared, trying to comprehend this Edward.

"I hurt you so much before. Leaving was the last and the worst, but rejecting you, making you feel unwanted. I was an idiot, Bella. I've had ten years to realize just how cruel that was. I should have trusted myself more, gone to Carlisle or the Denalis for advice . . . something. Later, I swore that I wouldn't be so stupid again if there was ever a chance for us."

She would've laughed at this ridiculous irony if it didn't make her want to cry. He wasn't afraid of hurting her, and now she was afraid, in so many different ways.

"I can't," she said. "I'm not—I can't yet." She huffed out a breath. It was full of nerves, anxiety, and frustration.

"I'm not asking for that right now—or ever, Bella, if that's your wish. I wouldn't ever expect or demand that from you. I just—before, you were . . ."

"I was a lot younger then, Edward. I had no idea how . . ." she hated to use the word, "how dangerous this," she gestured between them, "could be."

Edward's face fell, features creased with remorse. "I know what I said then, Bella, but I was wrong—"

"Maybe," she said. "I don't just mean physically."

He sat back on his heels, fingers finding hers again. "Forgive me, I've been incredibly foolish this evening—I have no excuse."

Her instinct was to explain away his behaviour, but she'd worked hard to become comfortable with uncomfortable truths. "Thank you for telling me all of that." she said gently. "I know we'll talk more about this but, I'm . . . well, it's nice to know why you held back so much before. I do want this with you, Edward. But, we've been apart for so long. A lot of things have changed."

"Of course," he said. His chagrin was easy to see, even in the room's dim light.

Even though she was still grappling with what he'd revealed, a small glimmer of happiness had taken up residence inside her. He'd learned from his mistakes and wasn't afraid to admit them.

She smiled, thinking of this.

"What's making you smile?" he asked.

"You," she said. "You've changed."

"Then you've changed me," he said.

"No, I think you've grown. We both have. I'm looking forward to seeing how else."

She saw him struggle to contain a grin, but he finally gave up just as Bella realized the double-meaning of the words she had uttered. She felt herself blush, which only widened his smile. She gave his shoulder a half-hearted little slap before losing the battle with her own embarrassed smile.

Then he sighed a little. "I should let you get some sleep." He turned to get off the bed.

"No stay!" she said quickly. "Please—" then she wondered if he could, or if it was too much. Looking at his eyes, she said, "Unless it's uncomfortable for you," thinking he must need to hunt. Wondering if it would be too much to be near her, without there being more.

"Why would it be uncomfortable?" Edward asked.

"Your eyes," she said, not wanting to point out her other concern.

"Ah." he said, "I'm fine."

Was he?

"But when your eyes are so black—"

"Yes, they do darken when we're hungry, but there are other things we can hunger for, besides blood."

It took her a moment to grasp his meaning.

"Oh." She dropped her gaze to her lap. Well, that was . . . interesting.

She continued staring at her hands for a moment, not quite sure what she wanted to say after that revelation. Edward was quiet, waiting.

"No struggles with . . . that, then?" She finally asked. After all, he had stopped the second she had asked him to before, not to mention having spent the night in her bed while she slept all those years ago without incident. Of course, that had not been this older, seemingly more confident-in-his-control Edward. This hungrier Edward.

"I promise to behave like the mature gentleman I am," Edward assured her. While she was relieved he hadn't taken offense at her question, her other musings continued. She watched as an impish look crossed his face. "Even though I'm still 17."

She let a little chuckle out at this playful comment, but the tension stayed in her shoulders. The unwelcome thought had struck her that perhaps his certainty around such activities being safe came from experience, rather than confidence. She could hardly have expected him not to have had a relationship with someone. Ten years had passed. She'd had Matt . . . and Edward had been determined that he would never come back to her.

Suck it up and just ask him, she scolded herself.

But it took a moment of chewing her lip before she could, and even then, she began her question indirectly. "You seem very confident in your new . . . opinions." God, if she wasn't the world's biggest chicken.

Edward cocked his head to the side, like he was trying to understand.

"Um, I mean . . . that you seem so sure sex would be safe. I was wondering if that came from . . . um, personal experience." Her face felt warm and she hoped she wasn't blushing again. Why the hell was this so awkward? It wasn't like she was a virgin.

"No," he rushed out. "Not at all." He watched her for a moment, looking like he was collecting his thoughts. "It's just that when I realized how overbearing I'd been, I saw all the many different ways I'd underestimated you. And underestimated myself, too."

Bella's eyes hadn't left his face, studying his features as the words left his mouth. "So, you haven't—"

"I've never had sex with anyone, Bella."

She felt inexplicably foolish then, for having brought it up.

His fingers brushed her cheek. "I'm not bothered that you asked." They were soft words. Forgiving words.

She smiled a little, wishing she didn't feel so sheepish for having broached the subject. It was all so surreal, discussing such things with him.

"Of course," Edward continued, "though I haven't been with anyone in that way, I have been reluctantly privy to the thoughts of many, many people, both vampire and human, as they pertain to the subject." Edward said this drily, pulling a small smile from Bella. "It's not the same as direct experience, but I wouldn't offer you something I thought was a risk."

As she tried to consider his words, she realized after a while that she was just drowsily blinking at him and that he was giving her a knowing look that reminded her of Alice.

"Bella, please rest. You're exhausted."

There was no reason to argue, and several for agreeing. "I really do need to sleep. Josh will be up early." She craned her neck a little, as if she could see around the corner, to where he rested in what was technically his room. Matt had set up a toddler bed there, which Josh had promptly refused to use, favouring the playpen in their room. He'd made no fuss when Edward put him in the bed tonight, though.

"He's still asleep," Edward assured her. "And I will get up with him."

Despite her exhaustion, Bella laughed softly. "You are every mother's fantasy: a man who gets up with the kids."

"Ah, another job to add to my list. Not sleeping has its advantages," he quipped back. "But you should."

She wondered if it was asking too much for him to hold her.

Deciding it was, she got under the covers.

Edward stayed on top of them, but he brought an arm around her. "Tell me if you get too cold."

"Okay," she breathed out, feeling herself fall into the first stages of sleep. The coolness behind her was soothing. As she tipped over the edge of solomnent oblivion, she fleetingly wondered to what new possibilities she would awaken.

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