Happy Saturday, people!

NEGATIVE! I tested negative today so we broke free to go for breakfast (which is our usual Saturday morning thing when we don't have the plague). Thank you for your messages and your support. And thanks to science again.

The usual stuff:
1. People, you propelled Ivories PAST 1,7k reviews! EditorWard doesn't know what to say. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
2. Also thank you to Team Momo, who work tirelessly to help me make this readable. My stories wouldn't exist without them and I'm so grateful they're in my corner. Alice's White Rabbit and Midnight Cougar are in the editing chairs. AGoodWitch, IAmBeagle, Driving Edward and RobsmyyummyCabanaBoy pre-read.
Some fiddling occurred. Momo fiddled AGAIN. Still not on the roof. It's hot as Hades in FL on the roof.
3. I still don't own - SM does. But I still own a collection of mugs. One of them is new reveals the Marauders' Map when heated.

Who's ready for a party?


BEHIND THE IVORIES – CHAPTER 29

There's something tickling my nose, but I can't tell what it is. I'm in that weird space between wakefulness and sleep, where light starts filtering through my eyelids, but my non-caffeinated brain refuses to function.

My sensory responses are another matter. The tickling returns, then stops. The next thing I feel is a light, delicate touch grazing my skin from my lips, down my neck, to my pecs, and around my nipple.

Silken tendrils brush against me and dim the morning light that warms my skin.

Then a sound finally wakes me; it's the unmistakable sound of Bella's giggles.

"Hey, good morning sleepyhead," she whispers.

My bedroom is still bathed in semi-darkness due to the blinds, but some sunlight pierces through. It makes for a stark contrast when it backlights Bella straddling me in bed, wearing only a flimsy tank top and her diverted smile.

"Morning, love. So it was you, tickling me. Or molesting me in my sleep?" I ask with a raised eyebrow. I'm teasing her, and she knows it.

"Well, I wanted to be the absolute first person to wish you a happy birthday, and I needed you awake for that. No regrets."

I sit up and pull her against me, brushing the cloudy curtain of her bed hair away from her face.

"You made it. I'm awake now."

She leans toward me, letting her eyes roam over my face. She nips at my lips once, stroking her tongue to mine when I let her in, then launches herself at me with her hands gripping my hair as she grinds against me. She's breathless when she breaks off the kiss, and so am I.

"Happy birthday, baby."

"Thank you. Can I get my present now?" I answer with a saucy grin. I want her, and I know she can feel me.

"Unwrap it, birthday boy."

She doesn't need to tell me twice. My hand snakes under her top until I graze the side of her breast, and she hisses, arching her back against my touch.

"You're so fucking beautiful like this. The sun makes a halo of your hair, and I just want to bury myself in you."

Breathy moans are her only answer as I peel the tank off her. I let my nose graze her skin, breathing her in and caressing her at the same time, while my hands roam over her back.

With one swift tug of my hips, I roll us over, and she laughs in my arms, surprised by the sudden movement.

"I want to remember you like this forever. You, laughing, in my bed, in my arms. When your breath hitches like that just before I touch you. Oh, how I want you …"

And right on cue, she arches her naked torso against me, her breath hitched in anticipation. She's magnificent and all mine. In an instant, that realization courses through me with the force of a wave and crashes into me, drowning me in pure, unadulterated desire.

"Shall I take you like this, stretched out below me, with your hands and legs tangled in mine? With your face staring back at me, pretty as a picture?"

"Edward, please …"

I silence her pleas with a hungry, desperate kiss. Every time I'm with her, every time she touches me, feels ravenous and new and yet warm, comforting, like home. She's my home.

I break away when her hand lands on my ass with a saucy slap, and she pushes me into her center. With nips and kisses to her neck, along her collarbone and farther, I end up circling her nipple with my tongue, suckling it while she pushes my head down her body.

"Or like this, making you fall apart with my mouth and drinking you up from the source?"

She no longer has intelligible words for a reply, so I keep on my path, sitting back on my haunches to get a better view and better leverage. She protests when I move off her, but stops when she feels my hands run up her silky thighs.

"You don't have to beg, my love. I'm here, and we're both about to get the ride of our lives."

She giggles when I pull her legs over my shoulders, but that breath dies in her throat as soon as I dive into her folds. She's soaked.

With relentless, circling motions, I lap at her juices, teasing her clit. She hisses, swallowing a moan that sounds vaguely like my name. My face is buried in her, and my hands reach over to play with her tits, just when I feel her hands tug on my hair again.

When my answering growl vibrates through my lips, she moans again. I know those vibrations must driver her crazy with need.

Her muscles start pulsing and contracting under my touch, which is my cue to stop for a second and drop her on the bed to align her with me until we face each other.

"But I'll take you like this, shallow and close, with your lips on mine so you can taste us together, and I can see you when you fall apart …"

The only warning I give her is a tug on her thigh to drape it across mine, then I thrust into her. That first feeling inside her always fills me with maddening need. The need to move, bury myself hilt deep, and drive into her at a punishing pace. I forget the world when I'm inside her, where I belong.

"Edward …"

It's a plea, an entreaty, a whispered vow, and a surrender all rolled into one. And surrender, I do, along with her. With every push, every thrust. While this position doesn't let me go as deep as I'd want, it gives me an angle that clearly affects her, judging from the bewitching sounds she's making and the feel of her hands scratching down my back. Even lost in bliss, she never does that on the side of my ink.

"You like that, don't you? When I take you like that?"

"Oh, God. Oh, yes …"

When her walls constrict around my shaft, and she cries out against my lips, it only takes me one breath and one more push to fall with her with a hungry, deafening roar.

Happy birthday to me.

&&&IVORIES&&&

It might be anticlimactic to shower, dress, and go to the office after the best sex of my life, but here I am.

Where, even if I issued a diktat of no shenanigans in the office, the crew buries me in chants of, "Happy birthday," and a deluge of colorful balloons.

They're all here: Mac, Tanya, Jess, Cheney, Jasper, Alice. Even Curtis Brandon is making an appearance. And Ross is standing beside Mac.

Bella isn't here for one reason only—more meetings at Berklee. Plus, she's getting the house ready to be invaded tonight. We had our private celebration this morning.

"This is an environmental disaster waiting to happen!" I shout, trying to wade through the ocean of balloons.

"Finally, someone agrees with me!" Alice comments.

We all burst out laughing, then I take a look around the newsroom and revel in these happy faces. My friends, my coworkers. Another branch of my extended family. The family I've chosen. It took me a long time—years—to appreciate how much they genuinely care about me.

"Thank you, everyone. Truly. I seem to remember a 'no party' mandate, though."

"Since when do we listen to you?" Tanya quips.

I have a feeling she orchestrated all of this.

"And we have cake!" she exclaims.

"It won't be as good as your stuff, Betty Crocker, but you'll live." Mac arrives, slapping a hand on my shoulder. "Ready to join AARP?"

I elbow him in the side with a chuckle. "You're not that far behind me, doofus. Give me my bloody cake."

With another generalized bout of laughter, they lead me into the break room. That's how half the morning passes: with slices of cake, inappropriate toasts, taunts, and more laughter.

It's close to eleven when the small crowd disperses to the four corners of the office. And that's when my actual day of work begins, but so does the wait for tonight's bash.

&&&IVORIES&&&

Because I'm the star of the show—as Bella said—and Mac would be underfoot and useless—Ross's characterization—I get ready at the loft. Mac has instructions to drive me to Wisteria House when Bella and Ross send him some sort of bat signal I'm not supposed to know.

We've come here straight from work, so Mac takes possession of my guest bathroom to shower, and I do the same in mine.

Seeing the unmade bed sends a pang of longing down my spine. The room still smells faintly of Bella and me, but after I shower, it all dissipates in a cloud of steam.

I haven't yet stopped to ponder what this birthday means for me. The big four-O, a landmark birthday for a lot of people. I'm inclined to think it's more peer-pressure, societal bullshit that doesn't help anyone. The internet is littered with lists of people who caught their big break after hitting forty.

I'm not worried about a perceived milestone I didn't set for myself. But this, today, feels like a watershed moment. It's light years from my last birthday, that's for damn sure. Last year, I was still set in my old curmudgeon ways, living like a monk and keeping everyone at arm's length.

While I'm not a cuddly teddy bear to all and sundry by any means, so many of my walls have crumbled that I'm surprised I'm not dealing with more emotional debris. But maybe the keystone to all of this is Bella. My Ladybug. With her gentle nudges out of the dreaded comfort zone, she's helped me metabolize this shit, one serving at a time.

I do some of my best thinking while or after showering, as a rule, and this one may just have given me the epiphany of the week. Only, I haven't taken a whole lot of solitary showers of late. My satisfied grin reflects back at me from the mirror as I look over my bearded face. My bushy mug needs a trim anyway, and appearing at my birthday party not looking like a bum sounds like a good idea.

I grab the trimmer from its spot in the drawer and pause before turning it on.

My beard has always been another wall. Another line of defense to hide my scars, to fend off other people's judgment. I don't need this line of defense anymore. It's another wall that can go, consigned to the trash heap of history.

I set the trimmer to cut deeper and get to demolishing most of my facial hair. I end up leaving some scruff. It's still a drastic change from the full, lush beard I've sported for the last six years.

Ten minutes later, when Mac barrels into my bedroom without knocking, his first words are, "Holy fucking shit."

"What, Mac?"

"Your beard is gone. Piano girl will flip."

I chuckle. It is going to be a bit of a shock. But that's not what I tell Mac. "I wasn't aware I had to discuss my grooming choices with my girlfriend."

"No, man. That's not what I meant. She'll flip in a good way. You and that damn jaw that could cut glass."

Only a photographer like Mac would have the eye to comment on my facial features and make it into a dig of sorts. I shake my head, snickering. "Come on, brother. Let's go get our girls."

&&&IVORIES&&&

When we turn onto Chestnut Street, Bella's driveway only holds Ross's car—a sleek, black VW Beetle. There should be more cars here since it's almost half past seven, and the invite was for seven o'clock.

"Where are all the others?"

"I think the girls told everyone to catch rideshares or park elsewhere. Last thing they wanted was a massive pile up of cars here that would cause the neighbors to complain."

"Good thinking."

Mac snickers. "Ross organizes Bella's life for a living; she's used to thinking about contingencies. Imagine what it's like to keep straight all the shit that goes into a world tour. They spend months on the road."

"No wonder Bella wanted a one-year break from touring."

"And I bet you're all for what keeps your girl in town, right?"

I shrug. "Oh, I'm not about to complain. But that's her career, her calling, Mac. I wouldn't stand in the way of that."

He looks at me, with his dimples in full view, with a serious, appraising expression in his eyes. "No, you wouldn't. You'd freak out in silence."

I let out a wry laugh. Talk about learning experiences. "No, Mac. I've learned my lesson. We'll talk about it when we cross that bridge."

He knocks on the door, but throws one last question at me. "You're truly happy, aren't you?"

"Yes, brother. Thank you for the well-timed kick in the nuts."

"You're welcome. Now, let's go get this party started!" he shouts when the door opens.

He quickly steps aside to let me in and another shout of, "Happy birthday," rises from the room. It's a disjointed, cheerful choir of mixed voices. My friends, coworkers, and my parents are standing behind the sectional in the front room, each holding one or two balloons, enough to spell out "Happy 40th Birthday, Edward!"

After the requisite song, everybody rushes me for hugs and greetings. But the first one to get to me is my Ladybug.

"Happy birthday again, baby."

"Thank you," I reply, twirling her in my arms.

A collective swoony sigh surges from the female contingent in the room. When I break our embrace to set Bella back on solid ground, I find the ladies staring at us all starry-eyed. Even Jake and Seth have dreamy looks on their faces. The remaining gents in the room have looks that spell "why did you have to show us all up?"

There's only one new face in the crowd. It's a tall, willowy girl with pin-straight hair cascading down to her back and brown eyes framed by long eyelashes and a pair of cat-eye glasses. She could be around Bella's age, mid to late twenties.

Bella's playing hostess tonight and pulls me toward the girl in question.

"Edward, I hope you don't mind that I asked my friend Angela to join us tonight."

"Of course not. Nice to meet you, Angela. Edward Cullen," I announce, extending my hand.

Behind her cat-eye glasses, Angela's keen eyes widen in surprise. "As in, EACullen on Twitter? That Edward Cullen?"

"The one and only, Ang," Ross replies.

She's going through the room with a tray of drinks and stops by long enough to kiss me on the cheek and force a glass of champagne into my hands.

"Oh. My. God. That Twitter thread was pure gold. Our entire analytics went off the charts. They're still going off the charts weeks later."

As realization dawns in my brain, I turn to Bella. "Let me guess, Angela from the Duckling Army?"

Bella's smile lights up the room. "Yes! The one and only."

"Well, Angela, happy to have been of service to the Army."

Angela looks pleased with my praise and launches into more commentary. "Oh, that was epic. Best takedown of that pompous asshole ever. Watching Bella's Twitter mentions pop up everywhere was a thing of beauty."

No doubt attracted by the sound of Twitter analytics and mentions, Ben Cheney sidles up to me. "Did I hear the magic words?"

"Yes, Ben. You heard correctly. Have you met Angela?"

I'm assuming he must have since everyone arrived before me. He turns to her, and Angela suddenly acts shy.

"In passing. Hi, I'm Ben Cheney. I do graphics and social media at the Tatler."

"Oh, I love the new interface!" Angela exclaims, unaware those words just earned her a lifelong friend.

I leave the two to talk geek and make my way through the room.

"We could take up a part-time career as matchmakers, methinks," Bella whispers. "I mean, look at that," she adds, pointing to Ben and Angela. They're talking with their heads close together, laughing and nodding at each other's lines.

"I'm not going to quit my day job just yet," I reply.

She leads me to the backyard, which she and Ross have completely transformed for the night. Strings of LED Edison-style lights run the perimeter of the space, lighting it up nicely. It's a warm night, and an outdoor party is a perfect idea. They've set up drink and food stations throughout with trays of finger foods and tubs of ice filled with canned and bottled drinks. All the drinkware and plates are recyclable, which guarantees a smart and fast cleanup for whoever will do it after the party.

We stop here and there so people can say hi and finally get to my parents, who've been waiting in the wings since I made it through the door.

"Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad."

Hugs and pats on the shoulder follow, then Esme runs away with Bella, who promised her a tour of the house. I stay behind and catch up with Dad.

"Curtis came by the newsroom this morning."

"Did you have a meeting scheduled?"

"Nah. Tanya brought everyone around to wish me a happy birthday." I can't help but smile at the thought.

"Wow, and you didn't storm out of the room with your knickers in a wad?"

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up."

"Well, last year you forbade celebrations. We couldn't even send you a card. You were adamant."

He's right.

"I've changed. I've been looking at things with different eyes lately."

He pats my shoulder twice with eyes full of fatherly pride. "It's been a blessing and an honor to witness this change, Edward. It's all we ever wanted for you."

"Thank you, Dad."

Ross arrives with more drinks and nibbles, interrupting our impromptu heart-to-heart.

"Ross, it's always good to see you," my dad says.

She leans in to kiss him on the cheek, and he laps up the attention. "Thank you for all your advice last week. It made my talk with the dean so much easier."

Right. Ross is also looking into going back to school.

"Have you made a decision? What's it going to be? Harvard, BU, Andover, UMass?"

She shakes her head. "Not yet. I'd like to stick to Boston, so commuting to Andover or Dartmouth is out of the question. It might end up being Harvard."

Dad flashes her a genial smile. It's his alma mater. "Our offer for an internship is still on the table, so think about it. We'd love to have you. If you go crimson, come see me again. I still know a few people who teach there."

"And they're all memorialized in marble statues on Harvard Square," I retort.

I shouldn't be making jokes about age, but that was too tempting to resist. I didn't know his talks with Ross advanced to the point of offering her a job at Cullen & Cullen. Well, if that pans out, it's going to be interesting. Ross could run circles around some of the first-year associates at Dad's firm.

"You think you're funny, Ed?" she asks. Her mischievous smile tells me she's on to me.

"Oh, no. Mac's the funny one; you should know. I just like to razz Dad because I went to Columbia, and he never lets me forget that."

It's been a bone of contention for the last twenty years, too.

"You did get accepted to Harvard, son."

"Two words, Dad: journalism school."

He raises his hands in defeat, sporting a resigned expression on his face. "You're almost as argumentative as a lawyer, but writing is your calling. Your mother was right all along."

Bella and Mom approach just in time to catch the tail end of the conversation, and Esme jumps on it.

"That is usually the case, Carl."

"And don't I know it."

We all laugh together at their exchange. They trade verbal barbs all the time, but there's never any animosity to that. It's their dynamic—they don't take themselves too seriously, and fiercely respect and love each other. Couple goals, as Mac said once. I couldn't agree more.

"Your parents are so cute together," Bella whispers.

"See why I've struggled over the years settling for less than that?"

"And what about now?" Her eyes gaze at me, full of love, hope, and yearning.

"We're reaching for the stars, Ladybug."

&&&IVORIES&&&

A couple hours later after we've stuffed our faces with more food, drink, and cake than we're ever going to confess to our doctors, we're sitting outside in the backyard, talking of everything and nothing.

Because I pleaded with everyone not to give me gifts, that's one part of the celebration we skipped, and I didn't miss it. Having friends around to celebrate is the best present I could have asked for. Last week, Bella said that someone would not be happy with that, so I told her to direct them to the CPJ's website and make donations to them instead.

There are only a few stragglers now. My parents just left; their pleas of old age met with the requisite sarcasm. Cheney disappeared with Angela; I couldn't help but notice. Jessica and Tanya shared a ride here and left right after them. Jasper and Alice are saying goodbye right now, hugging people left and right.

When J comes in front of me, he gives me his standard half-hug, pat on the back salute. "It's been a great party, Ed. Happy birthday again."

"You're next." In a few months, in fact.

"Don't even start. Alice is threatening to turn it into a country club affair because her parents will be there. I'd rather go get pints and pub grub at Ogilvy's and be done with it."

I grimace at the thought, but hey, he knew what he was getting into when he married up. "It's your birthday. I'm sure Curtis won't complain about a night at the pub. Work on the father to get to the daughter."

"Shit, being in love makes you devious; that might just work. Thanks for the suggestion," he replies.

"Are you okay with filling in for me in a couple weeks?"

"July fourth? Yeah, that's fine. Next issue's been put to bed already, and it's going to be a short workweek anyway. Tanya knows how to run shit in your absence; I'm only there to herd cats."

I snort. "Herding cats! Why didn't I put that on my LinkedIn profile?"

After a few more pleasantries and an enthusiastic hug from Alice, they leave.

There are only six of us left now—Ross, Mac, Jake, Seth, Bella, and me. Bella's patio furniture is a mish-mash of beanbags, beach loungers, two wicker loveseats, and a few scattered Adirondack chairs. Jake and Seth opted to stretch out in a lounger, Mac answered the call of his inner child and plopped in a beanbag as usual, and Bella and I end up sitting in the loveseat, looking around at our friends. Ross sits in one of the Adirondack chairs, which she's moved next to Mac.

Relaxing music plays in the background. The playlist tonight ran the gamut from pop to rock, to grunge, and back again. Now it sounds like Jack Johnson, waxing poetic about banana pancakes and such. Ideal soundtrack for a laid-back summer night.

"Great party, neighbor!" Jake throws the comment my way, knowing I wasn't involved in the party business at all.

"Credit where it's due, Jake. Bella and Ross did all the work. I only had to look pretty and show up."

"Yeah, what's with the new face? I had to pass around smelling salts earlier."

A current of laughter and snickers drowns his quip. Bella still hasn't said anything about my disappearing beard to me, but there've been people around us all evening. I turn to her, and she leans into me to plant a chaste kiss on my lips. I guess this settles the question.

"It was time for a change, that's all."

Jake absorbs my words with repeated nods and a speculative expression, his gaze alternating between Bella and me.

"Funny you should say that. Time for a change, eh, Seth?"

"Are you going for it, babe?" Seth replies.

They're perfectly matched. Both tall and statuesque, elegant to the point of glamor, loyal and steadfast, accomplished businessmen, and with a wicked sense of humor.

Jake nods. "Yes. We're among friends." Then he clears his throat. Silence descends. "Seth and I have an announcement. I'm in the process of permanently moving to Boston, and Seth and I are moving in together."

Bella and Ross dissolve in happy squeals at the news while Mac and I stand to shake hands and hug our friends.

When my turn with Jake comes, we clink glasses and exchange a meaningful look.

"That's quite the changes you've put in motion, Jake. Congratulations."

"Thanks, Ed." He blushes. Then he throws a sidelong glance to Seth, who's laughing at something Mac and Ross just said. The man is clearly smitten. "I feel so lucky to have met him."

The strength of his words hits me. I feel the same about Bella. Her presence and her impact on my life have wrought so many changes, and not just on our relationship, on our "more," as she calls it. She has impacted more than just our lives with her arrival in Boston eight months ago.

"I'm glad I referred you to my tax accountant then."

He smiles. "Yeah. I can't thank you enough for that."

"Sounds like a whirlwind romance. It's not been long since you two met, right?"

Jake's expression turns even more smitten, if possible, but his voice doesn't waver. "When you know, you know."

His words give me pause and food for thought until Bella comes beside me, winding her arm around my waist.

"Stop hogging my boyfriend, Jake," she protests. Her impish smile belies her intentions. She's teasing him.

He reacts with a haughty pout. "We were having a serious discussion, if you want to know."

"Really?"

"Yep. About life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."

That would be one very constitutional way of putting it.

"When are we meeting to discuss the Unplugged thingy?" Bella asks, changing the subject.

"See how she treats me, Cullen? I give her my club for a live concert and she calls it a 'thingy'."

Their sibling rivalry on full display is a thing to behold. No matter how much they poke fun at each other, their bond and affection shines through every word.

"Oh, come on, Jake. You know what I'm talking about."

I'm entirely superfluous to this conversation, so I figuratively sit back and enjoy the show.

"Yeah, for my sins. I talked to the people at the label. They were all over it. They said they'd have a list of artists we could contact as guests. Eric is on board."

Bella nods. "I figured he'd be. He's a good sport for these things."

"He said yes after I said 'Unplugged'. Your hot boyfriend here was onto something when he proposed that format."

"We're the Unplugged generation, Jake. Who doesn't have Nirvana's or Pearl Jam's Unplugged records? They're fundamental. They're milestones." I'm aware I got on my soapbox, but they just crashed into my musical wheelhouse. A subject near and dear to my heart.

Bella pats my chest with a loving smile, looking up at me. I take this as a chance to kiss her nose. She giggles and mouths, "I love you."

"And there he goes, our resident grunge rocker. Where's your flannel shirt?"

"You think you're joking, Jake, but he still has one." Bella, of all people, would know since she occasionally wears it around the loft when she can't find her own clothes.

"How do you know that, missy?"

She huffs, sporting a coy smile and haughty pout. "I'm not going to answer that. A lady has her secrets."

Jake laughs, shaking his head, just when Seth comes closer, looping an arm around his shoulder. "Shall we? I have an early meeting tomorrow."

It's not even eleven, but it's still a weeknight, and we are all working tomorrow. Ross and Mac have started doing some cleanup, but they're also getting ready to go.

Jake and Seth say their goodbyes, and Jake doesn't miss a chance to land a parting salvo over his shoulder. "Think about what I told you, Ed."

I nod and watch them disappear through the front door. Bella and I are finally alone.

"What was that all about?" she asks.

I fall onto the sectional in the front room and pull her on my lap, kissing her lazily for a minute instead of answering. I've been dying to do that since I came through the door hours ago.

"Was that a deflection technique?"

"No, Ladybug. I simply had to kiss you."

She smiles, then burrows into me as she usually does. "Don't mind if I do. So, Jake and Seth? What do you think?"

"It seems fast. But they're sure. Jake told me as much."

It's as if there's another undercurrent to our conversation, one neither of us is acknowledging aloud. But it's there, lingering behind every syllable.

"Let me guess, his words were along the lines of 'if you know, you know'." I nod, and she continues. "Life is too short not to snatch happiness with both hands when you have it."

More food for thought.


Lots of changes popping up everywhere around our EditorWard and Ladybug.

Special shout out to Mr Momo, whom some of you met at TFMU, because he's reading Business Class Girl and reviewing every chapter, which catapulted BCG past 1,5k reviews! Thank you baby :)

Next week, someone goes to Cape Cod!