BPOV
These boys were going to be the death of me.
Charlie and Carlisle tried to hide it, but they both thought the gaping hole in my son's head was the coolest thing ever. Emmett hadn't been around since it'd come out that he'd been the one to encourage Elliott to jump off the swings, and it just unraveled from there. Rumor had it that Rose had laid into him pretty hard about being a better role model for the kids. I didn't really blame Emmett. I'd learned a long time ago to ignore half the crap that came out of his mouth, but my children, and Elliott, hadn't learned that lesson. At least not until now.
"Baby, I'm off. Are you sure you don't want me to take the boys with me?" Edward asked, walking back into our bedroom. He'd been up for two hours, trying to get everything ready for one of the biggest photo shoots of his career.
"You're not going to be able to work with the boys running circles around you all day," I replied, grabbing a tissue off my nightstand and sneezing. "Besides, it's not the first time I've been left home alone with them."
"But you're sick," he huffed, sitting on the bed next to me. "I should just cancel."
"No, you shouldn't." I climbed up behind him, wrapping my legs around his waist and laying my head on his back. "We'll be fine."
"Then why are you clinging onto me?" Edward laughed, covering my arms with his. "You have a fever. I'm calling Sam and telling him that I can't work today."
"No, you're not. I'm fine, and I'm clinging on to you because I love you."
"I can call Esme. She'd come over and help," he offered.
"She does too much already," I grumbled, falling back on the bed. Bringing my hand up to my mouth, I yawned. "Besides, the boys are old enough to pretty much take care of themselves, right?"
"In theory," he sighed, slipping of my legs and standing up. Turning to face me, he frowned. "Okay, I'm leaving, but if you need me, I'll be here in like ten minutes. Promise me you will call."
"Edward, I'm a big girl," I groused.
"Bella, promise me," he ordered, grabbing my foot and threatening to tickle me. Bastard knew how sensitive my feet were.
"Baby, don't," I begged, trying to get away from him. However, his grip on my foot was too strong.
"Promise me that you'll call if you need me, Bella," he repeated, dragging his finger across the tender part of my foot.
"Edward," I laughed, wiggling on the bed. He kept tickling me, refusing to stop. "Fuck, I promise to call!"
Smirking, he dropped my foot onto the bed. "Thought you'd see it my way."
"You cheated," I muttered, hiding my feet under the blankets. You know, just in case he decided to attack me again. Edward had this little obsession with tickling my feet.
"I did, didn't I?" he said, smugly. Leaving over, he kissed my cheek. "I love you."
"Yeah, yeah, love you, too."
Event though he was reluctant, Edward left for his job. The opportunity to shoot one of the most historic buildings in Seattle was too good to let slide just because I had a little cold. Besides, with the boys out of school for a teacher-work day, I wasn't going to need to go out, and they were pretty self-reliant. They'd been spending every minute they could locked away inside their room. I chose not to dwell on what they were up to. The headaches weren't worth it.
I lounged in bed for another hour, before I heard the boys stirring in their room. Throwing the blankets off of me, I grabbed a handful of tissues off the nightstand and climbed out of bed. Edward had an old sweatshirt laying on the back of a chair. Grabbing it, I slipped it on, relishing in his scent. Coughing, I stumbled down the hallway to the kitchen, where I found them sitting around the table with two bowls, a box of Captain Crunch, and the gallon of milk. For a moment I considered offering to make them some pancakes or waffles, but when I sneezed again, I decided not to. It's not like having cereal would kill them, right?
"Wow, Mom, you look horrible," Anthony boasted as I reached for the coffee pot.
"Gee, thanks," I muttered, pouring myself a cup before I realized what I was doing. Pouring it out, I slammed the coffee mug onto the corner. "Damn it!"
"What's wrong?" Alex jumped to his feet, rushing over to my side.
I took a deep breath, which wasn't easy to do seeing as my nose was congested. "Nothing. I just really want some coffee."
"So, why did you just pour your cup out?" he asked, scrunching his face up just like Edward does when he doesn't understand what I'm talking about.
"Because I'm pregnant," I explained, struggling the keep the smart-ass tone out of my voice. He was only ten and didn't know that coffee wasn't the best drink of choice when pregnant. "I guess I'll just have some juice."
"Here, I'll get you some," he muttered, grabbing the handle to the fridge before I could. "Want me to make you some toast?"
I groaned, swallowing against the lump in my throat.
"Or maybe not," he grumbled, placing the carton of orange juice on the counter.
Reaching into the cabinet, he pulled out one of our cranberry juice glasses. My heart broke. Alex wasn't supposed to be tall enough to reach into the cupboard and get a glass. He's supposed to need me to get it for him. When did my boys get to be so big?
Pouring the juice into the glass, he slid it over to me. "Need anything else?"
"No, sweetie," I murmured, picking up the glass and taking a small sip.
Alex went back over to the table and started eating his breakfast. My head was pounding and my body shivered from the fever scorching my skin. Covering my mouth, I coughed several times, turning toward the sink when, what felt like my lung, slid up my throat. Behind me, I could hear the boys whispering, surely conspiring about whatever was going on inside their room. Running my hand through my hair, I turned back to them, sniffing back the snot filling my nose. Mom's weren't supposed to get sick.
"What are you two talking about?"
"Nothing," they chirped, leaning away from each other. The look they shared didn't go unnoticed.
I narrowed my eyes at them. "I don't believe you."
"Really, Mom, it's nothing," Anthony laughed, nervously tapping his fingers on the table. "You should go to bed. You look like cr...not very good."
"Gee, thanks, Anthony," I groused, going over and sitting at the table. His eyes shifted over to his brothers once again. "Look, I don't know what you two are doing in there, and as long as it isn't dangerous or illegal, I don't really care, but I need you to promise that you aren't going to blow up the house. Dad and I haven't finished paying it off and the housing market is really unstable right now, so if we have to move, it's probably going to be in with Grandpa, and that wouldn't be good for any of us."
"Why not?" Alex laughed.
"Because Grandpa is a serial killer." The boys threw their heads back, rambunctious laughter rolling out of their mouths. "You laugh, but I know these things."
"Mom, you're goofy," snickered Alex. "Grandpa's harmless."
I leaned across the table. "Tell that to the fish he murders."
That was all it took to cause them to nearly fall on the floor laughing. Scrambling to their feet, they grabbed their cereal and took off toward their bedroom. Propping my feet on the empty chair next to me, I decided not to make them bring their bowls back in here. Some battles weren't worth fighting. I'd learned that lesson a long time ago.
Once I finished my juice, I dragged myself away from the table, putting the milk up first. Wiping my nose again, I padded down the hallway, stopping outside the boys' room, and into my office. I didn't really feel like working, but I didn't want to go back to bed, either. To be honest, I wanted to be in Edward's arms, but he had to work today, and so did I.
Opening my laptop, I rebooted it and settled in my chair, draping a blanket over my lap. Leaning my forehead against the palm of my hand, I shivered against the blazing heat. I should take something, but I didn't want to risk taking any kind of medicine that could be harmful to the baby. I'd barely started my eighth week. Though, between Anthony getting hurt, my busy schedule, and Edward's new project, it felt like I should be twenty weeks instead. While a part of me wanted this pregnancy to move faster, the other part of me wanted to enjoy every moment. I wasn't alone this time. I had Edward and the boys; together, we'd welcome our new edition to the family.
I checked my email, getting a nice giggle out of one that Tanya sent me about two dogs standing in front of a glass door while a cat sits on the other side. In a bubble, it looked like the cat was asking, "Who's the pussy now?" Forwarding it to Edward's email first, I discarded it into my trash bin. Pulling open my doc for chapter five, I started rereading what I'd written for the book I was donating to Caius' cause.
Healing Through Love was the story of a young girl diagnosed with leukemia. When her family moves across the country in a last ditch effort to find a doctor aggressive enough to save her life, she finds not only the love of her life, but true friends, who help her every step of the way. Several times while writing this story, I'd found myself overwhelmed with the emotions that poured out of me.
I'd just placed my fingertips on the keys to start typing when the phone rang. With a heavy sigh, I reached over and lifted it off the base, unsurprised that Esme was calling. I knew Edward would call her. He worried too much.
Hitting the green talk button, I greeted her, "Hello, Esme."
"Bella, what are you doing answering the phone?" she started, but before I could get a word in, she continued speaking, "You're supposed to be in bed. Where are the boys? Are they okay? Edward said you'd be okay, but maybe I should come over. Bella? Bella? Are you there?"
"Yes, Esme, I'm here," I replied, smiling. "I'm fine. The boys are in their room, doing God knows what, and I'm writing. I promise that everything is fine."
"Edward said you had a fever." Her motherly tone cut through me. Damn Edward for being honest with her.
"I do, but it's not very high," I muttered.
"How high is not very high?" she asked.
"Um," I started.
"You haven't taken your temperature yet, have you?"
I sighed. "No."
"Isabella Marie Cullen," she snapped, throwing out the middle name like a good mother could. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but she spoke first. "Go get the thermometer
"Esme, really, I'm-"
"Isabella, I'm not asking." Her voice was eerily calm. "Now, stand up and go get the thermometer, or I will be forced to call your father."
"You wouldn't," I gasped.
"Oh, I would," she laughed, and not in that sweet way she normally would. No, this laugh was evil.
"Fine," I whined, standing up. "You know, Esme, I'm a big girl."
"Of course you are, sweetheart," she said, patronizing me. "Now, move it."
I huffed as I walked out of my office and into my bedroom, cutting through to the bathroom. Digging around in the medicine cabinet, I grabbed our ear thermometer, and adding a disposable cover on the tip. Sticking it in my ear, I hit the button on the outside, waiting for the beep that would tell me when it's ready. Three seconds later the beep came. Pulling it out of my ear, I cringed when I saw 103.4 flashing at me.
"Well, what is it?" she demanded.
"100.9," I lied.
"Bella, let me talk to Alex."
"Esme," I began.
"Please," she retorted, politely. Damn her and her sweet voice.
"Fine," I muttered, walking out of the bathroom, through my bedroom, and down the hallway to the boys' room. Knocking on the door, I said, "Alex, Nana wants to speak to you."
There was a bunch of muffled speaking coming from inside the room just moments before Alex cracked the door open, and slipped out. Huffing, I handed him the phone.
"Hey, Nana." He shifted his eyes up to mine. "Yes...really red cheeks...in her hand...hang on," he muttered. Cradling the phone against his chest, he reached out and tugged the thermometer out of my hand. I started to protest, but he lifted the phone up to his ear. "Okay, I've got it...the little gray button? Got it...103.4." I flinched. Damn her for bringing the boy into this. Alex's lips curved up into a smirk before he held the phone out to me. "You're in big trouble."
"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled, snatching the phone out of his hand and walking back toward my bedroom. "Esme-"
"I'll be there in ten minutes. You'd better be in bed."
Before I could reply, she hung up. Gasping, I stared at the phone. I should be surprised that she'd do this, but this was Esme. She'd never pretended to anything but a loving mom, willing to do whatever she could to make sure her family was happy and healthy. I always felt honored that she included me in her family. Sighing, I grabbed my laptop out of my office, and went into my bedroom. There wasn't any reason why I couldn't work and rest at the same time, was there?
True to her word, ten minutes later, I heard her come barreling into the house, using the extra key Edward and I had given her and Carlisle. A moment later, she appeared in the doorway to our bedroom. Her auburn hair was longer than it was when I first met her. Her eyes still sparkled. I often envied her way of living life to the fullest.
"What are you doing?" she huffed, crossing the room and pulling the laptop from my fingers.
"I was working," I muttered, "but I guess I'm not now."
"You're sick. You shouldn't be worrying about work right now."
"I have a deadline." It was true, I did have one, but not for another six weeks.
Rolling her eyes, she walked into the bathroom. A moment later she came back in with a wet washcloth. Sitting on the side of my bed, she brought her hand up to my forehead. "You're burning up. Have you taken anything?"
"No," I whispered, averting her eyes.
"I don't blame you," she said. I looked back up at her. "I probably wouldn't, either, but if we can't get this fever down, we're going to have to call your doctor and see what she wants us to do."
"Us?" I smiled. "You and me, huh?"
"Yep," she giggled, placing the washcloth across my forehead. I brought my hand up to my mouth as a new fit of couching rocketed through me. "That does not sound good."
"I'm fine," I murmured, nestling into the blankets. "It's Edward you should feel sorry for. He's been kept awake by my barking."
"Edward's a big boy, Bella, he'd fine," she scoffed, crossing her legs. "He's worried about you."
"I know he is, but I'm—"
"Fine, yes, I know," she interrupted me.
"Because I am fine. It's just a little cold," I muttered.
"Of course it is." Esme reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of my face. "But all he sees is that his wife is sick and pregnant. It might be a little too close for comfort."
That's when it hit me. Edward's overprotective behavior was because he was scared. He'd faced a sick wife with Sarah, and even though I really did just have a cold, it brought out a lot of his old fears of being left alone again. I'd been so lost in dealing with my own insecurities that I hadn't thought about how hard all of this had to be for him. Blinking back my tears, I tried not to cry.
"How could I need see it?" I whimpered, rolling onto my side. "I'm a horrible wife."
"Nonsense," she said. "You're a wonderful wife, who is just a little overwhelmed with everything she's feeling."
"A little?" I snorted.
"Okay, a lot," she laughed, standing up. "I'm going to go make you some tea. No getting on your laptop."
"Yes, ma'am," I snickered, earning me a teasing glare.
Esme came back a few minutes later with a cup of tea, a package of cherry cough drops, and a new box of tissues. Grabbing my laptop, she shut the door to my bedroom behind her, ordering me to rest while she took care of the boys. Sometime between when I took my first sip of tea and opening the new box of tissues, I drifted off to sleep.
I'm not sure how long I'd been asleep when I was startled awake by someone pressing on the doorbell. After they rang the bell for the third time, I threw the blankets off. There was a note on the nightstand saying that Esme had taken the boys to grocery store and that they'd be back soon. Scrambling out of my bedroom, I placed my hand on the wall, trying to keep myself from falling my sleepy hazy. My head was throbbing. The person on the other side of the door rang the bell again.
"I'm coming," I yelled, sliding to a stop in front of the dark, mahogany door. Unlocking the deadbolt, I pulled it open, feeling all the air get sucked out of my lungs. "How the hell did you find me?"
