Posted 2019/06/12. A bevy of thanks to the remarkable eeyorefan12, who has put in many, many hours into editing this tale. ~ Erin
It was Sunday. She, Edward, and the children had spent Saturday together, and then he'd stayed the night again.
She'd asked him once again if he needed to hunt.
"I'm fine. I promise," he assured her.
Then she left it, deciding to trust him instead.
A small bag of Edward's things had been in Bella's kitchen when she'd woken Saturday morning and gone downstairs. She had lifted an eyebrow at it—and at Edward, who was dressed casually in jeans.
He had shrugged. "Alice brought it by earlier," he'd said. "Apparently, I am not to look rumpled in your presence."
Bella had snorted at this pronouncement. She suspected his going to the park in yesterday's less-than-crisp shirt and slacks would've looked too out of place, anyway. His otherworldly beauty already drew eyes wherever he went.
She fought the urge to pinch herself, everytime she caught a glance at him out of the corner of her eye.
It helped that he stayed so physically close, almost always a brush of fingers away with his hand in hers or at her waist.
She loved it.
He'd been good to his word on both mornings, taking Joshua downstairs and getting him breakfast. Today he'd even convinced Josh to don weather-appropriate clothing.
Would miracles ever cease?
Josh and Mer had run off to play in the fort of couch cushions they'd made in the living room, leaving Bella and Edward at the kitchen table.
"He understands that he doesn't need to speak to me to be heard," Edward said, looking at her. "I've explained that we can only do this when we're alone, or with you or my family. Mer hasn't noticed yet."
Bella nodded nervously, sipping at her tea. It wasn't like Josh could communicate this secret to anyone else, at least not verbally.
Edward's next question caught her completely off guard.
"Have you ever thought about therapy for him?"
"There's nothing wrong with him!" she shot back, cringing as the words left her. Closing her eyes, she whispered, "Sorry. People—"
"Are judgemental idiots. You're right: there's nothing wrong with him. I'm just thinking the right kind of therapy could help him talk."
She opened her eyes a crack. "What kind of therapy?"
"Working with a speech and language pathologist, or a behavioural consultant. There are other options too, but those are the most common."
And they were all expensive, and not covered by her benefits, or the very reasonable healthcare she enjoyed in Canada.
Sighing, she said, "I can't afford it right now—"
"You don't need to," Edward frowned. "I can—"
"No," Bella said, shaking her head.
"Why not?"
"Because . . ." she started. Because you might leave, she thought, and then where will I be?
"Why, Bella?"
She shook her head. "I'll think about it."
Wisely letting the topic lapse, Edward stood, clearing the dishes off the table.
She decided she liked the newer and more mature Edward Cullen. A lot.
Standing up, she went and rifled through the pile of papers on the island, sorting them into the urgent, and less urgent. Using her phone, she finally paid the gas bill and the late charge, tapping in a reminder for the next month's bill. The next piece of paper was her car's repair bill. She didn't so much sigh, as breathe out slowly. She needed to figure out how to pay it. Soon. Its appearance had decimated all her careful budgeting. She'd just have to use the line of credit she and Matt had set up for the house renovations.
When she glanced up, she caught Edward's eyes grazing over the various envelopes and bills, and then her.
Clearing her throat, she spoke before he could say anything about the paperwork in front of her.
"Edward, is it just me, or do you actually look older?" she asked.
"I don't think I do."
She squinted at him again but still saw the differences. "You do, but the rest of your family doesn't."
"We don't age," he reminded her, coming to stand beside her at the counter. "Perhaps you see me differently."
"I think I do, yes, but I wondered if it was more than that."
Now he leaned forward, clearly interested. "How do you see me differently?"
Her heart sped up, having him come close. "I was younger before. It was easy to see you for your seventeen-year-old self, because I was that age too. And, I know you and your family worked hard to look like you belonged in high school. Now though, I can't get over how I missed all the ways you're not seventeen—the way you carry yourself, the way you move. How you're so . . . purposeful. Focused."
And still incredibly beautiful, alluring, and unethically stunning.
His proximity and gaze were uncomfortably intense. She looked away first, tapping her fingers the stack of papers. "Anyways, what did Charlie think when he saw you?"
Edward leaned back a little, eyeing her before he spoke. "He's hard to hear. Nothing overt, that I recall. Although, I don't think my appearance was foremost in his mind, at the time." He gave her that crooked smile she loved.
"Maybe it's just me," she mumbled, moving back to the table.
He followed, kissing her fingers as she sat down.
She sighed a little, though not for any reason to do with him, glancing at her work bag.
"What?" he asked.
She chuckled. "I have papers to mark, and as much as I'm enjoying you, the kids are having fun, and I should get a couple of these done before things unravel in there."
"Want some help?" he asked.
She snorted. Derisively.
"What, you think I can't handle some high school essays?"
Bella was rifling through her work bag, pulling out a file. "Oh, I don't doubt your capacity, but when they ask me why someone else's writing is all over their papers, I might find that difficult to explain."
"Then I'll write in your hand."
She paused, reminding herself that she shouldn't be surprised by what he could do. By what they could all do. Still, she asked. "You can imitate my handwriting?"
His face fell and he was quiet for a long moment. "Very well," he finally said softly. "Didn't you wonder how your father knew where to look for you? That day in the woods?"
She hadn't. "No."
They both became still for a moment, Bella studying the table and her file, Edward scrutinizing her. Or his past mistakes. "Perhaps I can put my skills to better use today?" he asked quietly, reaching over and taking one of the folders. "Seeing as I've managed to hobble your dominant hand anyway." He glanced at her hand, which was now in the light brace he had fitted her with before they had left the Cullens two days ago. It felt much better but was going to be stiff for a while.
Bella recovered herself and gave him a little smile. "Fill your boots, but maybe show me the first few papers you mark?"
"Yes'm," he demurred, taking the proffered pen.
After watching Bella scribble some notes onto the page, Edward conferred with her on the required comments. They marked together quietly, the sounds in the living room reassuringly soft and happy.
"You said that to Jasper too. 'Fill your boots.' You never did before. Is that a newly-acquired Canadianism?" Edward asked lightly.
She smiled, remembering. "Something Matt used to say. He was Canadian, from the East coast," she added, her expression slipping a little. "Sorry," she muttered, shaking her head rapidly.
"Why are you sorry?"
She chewed on her lip, mulling over the question that had been niggling at her in the last few days. She loved Edward. She knew in her heart that she always had. There was no doubt in her mind now of her feelings for him. But, she'd loved Matt too. And it had only been a few months since his death. She felt uneasy, being with Edward, like she'd short-changed Matt on . . . what, her grief? Did one owe their spouse a prescribed debt of sadness?
And now that she had this unbelievable happiness—no, this rightness with Edward—it felt too good to be true. Of course, it was tempered with very real worries: Victoria, for starters, a host of real life practicalities with which they'd eventually have to contend, telling Charlie . . .
Then there was the deep worry that underscored everything: that somehow she would lose Edward again..
And feeding into that sense of worry was this question: would talking about Matt drive Edward away?
But if he was really going to stay, and they were to have a real life together, they both needed to be free to talk about their pasts.
"It's complicated," she started.
"Try me," he encouraged her. "I seem to be keeping up on other, wildly-complicated fronts." He held up the worst of the papers they'd discussed so far.
Despite her mood, Bella laughed. This faded, as she went to speak again. "I was wondering how you felt about me talking about Matt."
"You loved him, Bella. If you want to talk about him, I want to hear it."
She had to pause and only breathe for a moment. The pregnancy made her tears a near thing. "I have a hard time believing you wouldn't feel jealous."
"Why?"
"Because I'd feel that way about anyone you'd been with." There, she'd said it. When it came down to it, she was a shallow, vain and jealous creature. God, it sucked.
But the expression on Edward's face when she dared to look him in the eye said he disagreed with her assessment of herself. If anything, he looked pleased at her words . . . and maybe slightly embarrassed.
"I'd like to say that I've never felt jealous of what you had with Matt, but I have. Of course I have. The difference is that you've given me a second chance, and what's happened before isn't what's happening now. We're here. I love you. And because I love you, if you need or want to talk about your husband, then I want you to. I mean that Bella. Please don't ever censor yourself because you think it might hurt my feelings.
A different man indeed.
Bella nodded in acknowledgement of his assurances and tried to think of the best place to start.
"Matt was funny," she said. "He made me laugh like Jake did." The words slipped from her quickly, and were met with a smile.
"I'm glad," Edward said.
The world didn't end, and Edward's eyes remained gently trained on her as he smiled in encouragement.
So she asked the next, harder question: "I know you said you hadn't . . . slept with anyone but . . . was there anyone while we were apart?"
"No," Edward said. "No one."
"Not even—" she started, thinking of the Denali coven.
"No one," Edward said gently, but firmly.
But she'd had someone. Had he really been alone all that time?
She heard Edward chuckle and realized that she'd lost herself in thought again. It was becoming a common occurrence. He cocked his head towards the stack in front of her. "Do you really want to mark those right now?"
"No," she sighed, "But I should get them back to the kids this week, and I'll have more work coming in." While she loved the students, and relished the literature, the marking was a whole other beast.
"Why don't you let me finish marking them, then? It wouldn't take me long."
"I'm sure you could, but you know, it's kinda my job. I do need to know what they're able to do."
"And from where I stand, the complications I've brought into your life are disrupting your ability to do your job." He lifted his eyebrows.
"Probably."
"So let me make that up. Besides, I think you'd rather go play with your children." He gave her a sly smile, "And me."
"True," she said, chuckling. "Fill your boots," she added, handing over only half of her remaining papers.
He rolled his eyes. "Control freak."
Laughing at his comment, Bella put her share of papers away and led Edward to the living room, where Josh and Mer had expanded their fort with the sheets from Bella's bed.
That night in bed, Bella was sighing out a happy breath when he spoke.
"I need to hunt tonight."
"Okay." It was just hunting, she told herself. He'd be back. Saying it was one thing. Believing it was another. She hadn't realized until that moment how anxious she'd been about talking with him about Matt and what his reaction would be.
"Do you want me to wait until you're at work?"
"No," she whispered, trailing her fingers over his hands. "You should go tonight."
"I'll wait until you're asleep."
This known, sleep settled slowly, and she kept clinging to the edges of wakefulness and to Edward's fingers, flinching up from slumber whenever her dreams reminded her of his leaving.