A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.
Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.
Chapter 21 – Fry Woks and Marsh Moons
Edward
Tristan's rumbling laughter filled the air.
It was a great laugh. A contagious one. It was the sort of laugh that escalated rather than deescalated, just as the initial prompt should've lost its luster. Instead, Tristan's three-year-old mind seemed to flip the prompt over, sort through it, then peel back additional layers, revealing even more to be amused by. That laugh meant Tristan wasn't merely happy; he was blissful – full of wonder and excitement.
And yeah, I got it.
I got it because, over the past few weeks, that bliss was ever-present for me too, even if I didn't belly-laugh as much as my son did – what looks cute on a three-year-old can look disturbing on a thirty-year-old. Still, though I may not have gone around with twenty-four-hour rumbling laughter, I wasn't hiding my happiness. Lately, I walked around with a broad grin on my face, with a whistled tune never further than the tip of my tongue. After all, as Tristan's dad, wasn't it natural that his moments of extreme delight prompt my own?
Besides, and coincidentally enough, our prompt happened to be the same: an amazing woman by the name of Isabella Marie Dwyer.
Tonight, while Tristan and Bella gazed up at the bright bursts of colors contrasting across a dark, Forks sky, Tristan's excitement grew, spread, and made his entire frame shake and shiver. In turn, Bella's frame shook and shivered. So did mine.
We were watching the evening's fireworks, the three of us laid out in a T-Bone shape over a plush picnic blanket spread out over an open field at the Forks Recreation Center. Tristan's head rested on Bella's stomach, with Bella wrapping an arm around him and the other pointing upward at the light display in the sky, narrating it for Tristan. Meanwhile, I had an arm bent at the elbow to support my head while the other arm kept both Tristan and Bella close, the latter's head resting on my chest. Which was why I felt each and every shiver coursing through them, why I felt his excitement and her hair tickling my jawline…why the warmth of her body, nestled against my ribs, thrilled me.
And yeah, I shook and shivered too.
My eyes may have been on the same fireworks display responsible for Bella and Tristan's reaction, but my response had nothing to do with midair explosions. My reaction was due to the week we'd had, the one following Bella's and my first official…and all-consuming date, in the midst of the best summer of my life, which I now got to share with not one, but with the two most important beings in my world.
We'd spent every possible moment together.
"Bella, look! Fry-woks so big and fast!"
"Fireworks, Trist," I corrected.
"They're really big and fast fireworks, yes, sweet pea! And they're bright!"
"You like fry-woks, Bella?"
"Fireworks, Trist," I repeated.
"Well, I haven't really watched fireworks in a while," Bella said.
"Why come?"
"Uhm, they used to give me headaches because of the flashing- but yes! I'd forgotten how beautiful they are!"
"Your head no ache?" Tristan followed up, beating me to it.
"Your head doesn't ache, Tristan."
"I know my head no ache! I ask Bella!"
Bella chuckled heartily. "No, my sweet pea. My head's fine now."
"Yay! Dad! Dad, you see fry-woks? You see? So big and fast and bright and bootyful!"
Reaching down, I raked my hand through Tristan's hair and sighed. "Fireworks, Trist, and yes, they're big, and they're fast, and they're bright and beautiful. Add to that list that they're LOUD!" I bellowed up at the sky.
This caused them to share another round of laughter which triggered my own, at least until Bella angled her head upward and caught my eye.
There was a momentary pause in the fireworks, one where the sky went completely black. When the explosions resumed, their bursts reflected perfectly in Bella's dark gaze. Paired with the warm smile she wore, the sight was more breathtaking than anything I could've witnessed crossing the sky.
"Talk about bright and beautiful," I murmured before instinctively jutting forward and capturing her lips between mine.
"Red fry-wok now! Blue now!" Tristan exclaimed, assuming the light show's narration while I quietly kept Bella's mouth busy.
"Mhm," I mumbled against Bella's lips. "Great colors up there, Trist. Bella," I whispered, "were you aware that your town apparently puts on an air display of woks frying in the sky?"
Bella tilted her head upward in that mannerism of hers I adored, the one that I already knew always preceded her hearty laughter. The glow from above cast her in a light that made her look almost…ethereal. It framed her like a vision; like a dream I'd never dared dream.
A dream that kept me transfixed even as the town of Forks put on an impressive and thundering finale overflowing with dozens of simultaneously exploding pyrotechnics in an assortment of fluorescent colors, and Tristan shouted and pointed and bounced through them.
I simply and blissfully experienced it all through Bella's eyes.
OOOOO
Bella had the night off from her evening shift at Emily's Pub. Therefore, she treated us to a home-cooked meal at my place.
In reality, we had dinner together almost every night, whether at my place, at Sue and the Chief's place, around the small table for exactly three in Bella's converted garage apartment, at Emily's Pub, etc., wherever we happened to be.
But while I dug in and enjoyed the hell out of Bella's culinary creation, Tristan wore a furrowed brow. He eyed his dish suspiciously, using the oversized, blunt-edged fork in his hand not to eat, but rather to push the diced pieces of mushroom ravioli around his plate. When he suddenly looked up, his expression said he'd reached an all-important, life-altering decision.
"Nuggets, peez."
"First, it's nuggets, please, Tristan," I corrected.
"You want nuggets too, Dad?"
"No," I smirked, while seated between Trist and me, Bella stifled a chuckle. "I'm enjoying the mushroom ravioli that Bella thoughtfully made for dinner." I shot Bella a wink and a grin before returning my attention to Tristan. "And I bet if you try it rather than play with it, you'll enjoy it too."
Tristan frowned pensively, pondering this possibility before adamantly shaking his head.
"No. I no think so."
"Sweet pea," Bella said, then paused and attempted to clear the mirth from her voice before she restarted. "Sweet pea, how about you give one of those ravioli mushroom pieces a tiny little taste?"
Her enticing tone would've had me leaping tall buildings. Tristan merely scrunched his minuscule nose.
"I no like marsh-moons."
His tone held the sort of conviction one would expect after a long period of thorough research, or after years of being subjected to mushroom-laced dinners where the conclusion was inarguable. However, Tristan was three.
"I don't like mushrooms," I corrected once again.
"Me neithuh, Dad!" The imp shot back, as if he commiserated with my plight.
At this point, Bella resorted to drowning her amusement with a glass of water.
"Don't choke, love," I breathed, squeezing her hand before addressing my son again. "Buddy, it's mushrooms, not marsh-moons."
"That's what I say, Dad! Marsh-moons!"
"Edward…"
"Trist, you're saying marsh-moons, not mushrooms. A marsh is a swamp, buddy, and I don't think they're found on the moon."
Tristan gasped, eyes rounding. "Aunt Ally say monstuhs in swamps! Yucky monstuh food!' He pushed away his plate, apparently horrified by what I was trying to feed him, and as a result, almost toppling it all off of the highchair's wide tray.
Bella's quick reflexes caught the plate as it teeter-tottered at the edge. She slid the plate back to the middle of the tray.
"Ooh, careful, sweet pea!"
"Yucky marsh-moons!"
"Tristan…" I warned.
"Edward…"
"Monstuh food!"
"Trist, it's not monster food," I admonished. "Now, eat your dinner."
"But Aunt Ally say-"
"Tristan Anthony Cullen-"
"Edward." Bella said my name in a way that while low, was meant to catch my attention. "May I?"
I'd hand her my heart on a silver platter. I trusted her with more than my heart…
"Of course, Bella," I nodded.
Turning back to Tristan with a tender smile, Bella reached for his fork and pierced the smallest mushroom ravioli piece on his plate.
"Now, how about we try this tiny, tiny," she stressed, "piece of mushroom ravioli, and we see what you think of it?"
"Monstuh food marsh-moons!"
Rather than correcting him, Bella played along. "Monster food mushrooms? Oh wow!" She growled and made faces that made him giggle as she led the fork toward his mouth. "Monster food mushrooms sound like fun to eat!"
"I no-" The assertion caught Tristan off-guard. He did a double-take. "Fun?"
"Uh-huh. Fun!" Bella continued moving in slowly, allowing Tristan to track the fork's trajectory, his gaze warily watching its approach…
"Tristan Anthony Cullen is about to eat monster food mushrooms!"
Yet he watched curiously as well, his eyes sweeping back and forth between the nearing fork and Bella's face, one eye narrowed as if deliberating the possible adventure in consuming a mushroom after all…
He giggled before opening his mouth wide.
"Here we go! Monster food mushrooms!" Bella exclaimed.
Tristan chewed quickly, too quickly to actually absorb any of the flavor, if one asked me. He growled as he chewed and spoke through a full mouth.
"Monstuh food!"
"Monster food!" Bella agreed.
He swallowed just as briskly.
"Yucky!"
"Yucky?" Bella echoed. "You didn't like the monster mushrooms?"
"Yucky!" Tristan reiterated.
Bella chuckled and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Okay. But guess what? I am so proud of you for trying mushrooms!"
"Yay! I try marsh-moons!"
"Now, would you like me to cut you up some of the chicken and veggies Sue grilled last night?"
"Tickin! Tickin, peez!"
"Chicken! Chicken!" Bella repeated. "We'll have the chicken and veggies ready in a minute, sweetie. And maybe one of these days, we'll try the monster mushrooms again. What do you think?"
Tristan shrugged.
Apparently, that was enough to earn him another kiss on the forehead. Bella removed Tristan's plate of mushrooms from his tray and moved to heat his chicken and veggies.
Afterward, we performed Tristan's bedtime rituals – bathing, tooth-brushing, etc. At Tristan's request, Bella read his bedtime story, seated bedside, while I sat beside her. When his eyelids grew heavy, Bella kissed his cheek and just…sat there for a long moment, watching him fall into slumber. I stood and kissed Tristan's cheek, flipped on his Captain America-themed nightlight, and turned on the video monitor. All the while, Bella silently watched me perform the nightly tasks, then looked up at me when I took her hand and helped her up.
"Ready?" I whispered.
She quirked a brow. "For what, exactly?"
Without another word, I led her across the hall and to my bedroom. I shut and locked the door, then turned on the corresponding monitor and turned down the lights. When I turned to Bella, she stood in the middle of the room, eyeing me serenely. I made my way to her, slipping my arms around her hips, resting my hands on her backside, and holding her gaze as she wound her arms around my shoulders.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
"You tell me. You were quiet after dinner."
I drew in a deep breath and exhaled before nodding.
"It's just…he's three," she launched in quietly yet energetically, "and I feel like the corrections go over his head, you know? I mean, he's three. So, it goes from a back and forth about pronunciations he can't quite manage yet, to misunderstandings, and somewhere along the way, the initial topic gets literally lost in translation, where trying a new food turned into a back and forth about monsters and marshes. I mean, he's three," she snorted. "Edward…" she cradled my cheek, "I'm sorry if I overstepped, but I'm sure as he gets older, he'll learn to pronounce mushrooms verses marsh moons," she smiled, "or please as opposed to peas, or-"
"Wait, wait, wait," I dipped my head to her eye level and moved in closer. "Bella, you don't think I was quiet tonight because I'm upset at you. Do you?"
She bit her lip, eyeing me dubiously. "If not, then why were you so quiet?"
"Bella." I shook my head, upset now, but at my stupidity. "Sweetheart," I caged her face between my hands, "I've been quiet because I'm speechless at how wonderfully you handled a situation where, yeah," I chuckled self-deprecatingly, "I do tend to go off on a tangent and end up in a sparring match with my three-year-old son. I lose focus and…" I trailed off while Bella searched my eyes.
"Are you sure you weren't upset by my interference?"
"Your interference?" I scoffed incredulously. Then, sighing, I wrapped my arms around her again, pulling her flush against me, feeling her thrumming heartbeat. "Bella, I've spent almost Tristan's entire life raising him on my own. I mean, I've been fortunate enough to have help from his grandparents and my sister."
"And Kate's sister?"
"The point is, I've taken their advice into consideration, but actually handing over the reins, trusting the decision-making to someone else rather than dictating to them how I expect him to be raised?" I waited for her to meet my eyes again. "I've never done that. I've never allowed that because in my mind, he's always been my responsibility and mine alone. I've been wary, afraid that allowing someone else to make decisions where Tristan is concerned would result in mistakes I'd have to undo. Bella…the way you are with Tristan, how you treat and handle him…you leave me in awe."
Pulling back, she held my gaze, studying me. "Edward, I love him so much." She spoke the words openly, though her voice shook and broke, leaving me elated.
"I know you do, Bella. I know."
"But I'm not an expert at this. I mean, what do I know about how to be-"
Her breath hitched as she cut herself off, though I felt I knew what she'd been about to say.
"Hey, I'm no expert either, Bella. I don't think anyone is," I chuckled softly. "And don't say you don't know a thing about it because the way you love him…" I smiled, kissing her gently, "the way you love him, that's your guide."
Her chest heaved against mine. She was anxious, unsure, but not about her love for Tristan, and that's what mattered. Then…she nodded slowly against my mouth.
And for the time being, I left it there even though there was so much more I wanted to say. I ached to tell her that I was madly in love with her. I longed to hear her speak as openly about her love for me as she did for my son, even if I knew…I knew she loved me too. Bella was the type of woman whose love was in her every look, every action. The words would've been superfluous had I not yearned with every fiber to hear them.
But I wouldn't rush her. We had all summer.
And though she wasn't read to speak of it, I knew we had more.
Instead, soft, comforting kisses turned into hungry, demanding ones. With Tristan sleeping safely and soundly, Bella and I shed our clothing and tumbled onto the bed. There, we lost ourselves in one another's breathless cries, punctuated them with rhythmic thrusts; at her command, I drove in slowly, then fast; gently, then hard. We chased our mutual need for friction until she came undone first with whimpers and moans stifled against my damp neck. I followed close behind with grunts I quieted around soft, pink peaks. Afterward, I held her tightly for a long while, molded my limbs around her warm body, and trailed lazy, open-mouthed kisses across her skin, from shoulder to shoulder. At the same time, she played with my hair, and we listened to the quiet static emanating from the monitor. My heart drummed wildly against hers, eventually regulating and synchronizing into one harmonious beat.
"Stay," I whispered pleadingly, skimming my lips against the warm, smooth space between her breasts. "Stay with me. Stay."
"I can't," she said, voice still deliciously husky from our lovemaking. "I've got camp in the morning. I need clean clothes. What would my campers think if I arrived in rumpled clothes and tousled hair at the rec?"
There was a smile in her voice. Resting my weight on my elbows, I kissed her jaw and looked up into a sleepy, dreamy, smiling face I wanted to more than gaze at…I wanted to worship every night for the rest of my life.
"Your campers are between the ages of three and five. They wouldn't even notice."
"Their parents would. And Bree and Jane already envy me enough. If I showed up to camp rumpled and tousled, they'd think I was just showing off at that point."
I chuckled and…and realized I'd never loved a woman this wholly. This deeply.
"Fine, then. If you don't want your camper's parents knowing you spent the night with me inside you," – she threw her head back and chuckled heartily – "let's plan for it. Bring your stuff over next time. Bring a few things."
She searched my eyes. "If I start spending nights here, I know an overprotective godpop slash police chief who'll want to have a word with you."
I shrugged. "I think I can handle overprotective godpops slash police chiefs."
"You can, huh?" she smirked but then quickly sobered. "Edward…what about Tristan? What would he think?"
I rolled my eyes. "He'll think, …'Yay! Bella's here!'"
She offered me a tremulous grin, yet she couldn't disguise her concurrent excitement. "I don't want to overwhelm him."
I brushed my lips against hers. "We won't. Think about it, okay? Let me know in the morning?"
"Okay."
OOOOO
On weekdays, we awoke early, sometimes to gray, though occasionally to bright mornings. Either way, we moved on to those necessary tasks which, until recently, I'd had to stand on my head and speak in tongues to goad Tristan into performing.
Now, Tristan rushed through our grooming eagerly – helping me help him with his clothing, so two arms didn't end up in one sleeve; remembering to cap the toothpaste before half the tube spurted out into the sink; and, of course, rushing to rather than away from the breakfast table.
Because our first interaction with Bella of the day routinely occurred at the breakfast table. A quick call to or from her to say 'Good morning' shot us with a more significant dose of adrenaline than could ever be obtained from ten hours of sleep for the boy or from a massive mug of caffeine for me, or from a sun that was as likely as not to make an appearance.
By this time of day, however, Bella was usually already at camp, prepping for her group of three-to-five-year-olds. So, we kept the calls short, both my son and I more anxious to see her in person, anyhow.
That morning, I placed the facetime call halfway through breakfast, when Tristan only had about three spoonfuls of his oatmeal left to go, and I was quickly swallowing back the last couple of sips of a scalding mug of coffee.
"I say moaning to Bella!" Trist made gimme-gimme hands from his high chair.
"As soon as she picks up, you can say good morning, buddy," I agreed with a grin. "Hey, Trist, how would you feel about seeing Bella at our breakfast table every morning?"
"Bwake-fast with Bella?"
"Yep. Breakfast with Bella."
"Yay!"
"I told her," I snorted to myself.
The pulsating sound of the facetime call continued with no answer.
"Hm, guess she's busy this morning." I ended the call and turned to my now frowning son.
"No moaning to Bella?"
"You can say good morning in person at camp," I grinned, moving to unbuckle him. "Come on."
We grabbed Tristan's backpack and ensured everything necessary for the day was packed. There were the basics, but depending on the day's planned activities, there were other items. For example, for the latest 'Show and Tell,' Tristan packed his favorite seashell, collected on a beach trip with Bella and me a few days earlier. Today was 'Fossil Dig Day,' and Tristan was contributing a toy moose Bella got him on a drive the three of us took to a game farm in the nearby town of Sequim.
Mornings at camp drop-off were also part of the routine, with Tristan usually making a beeline for Bella. Though he tended to run headlong toward her, by now, Tristan knew to wrap his arms around her gently. Only once Bella dropped to her knees and enthusiastically kissed his face could he greet her with more vigor. Tristan knew that meant it was a good day for her, as luckily, every day at camp had been so far.
I knew it meant I could pull her into my arms and lift her off the ground, causing her playful shrieks rather than causing any dizzy spells – though it did cause her a hint of friendly embarrassment while the campers and their guardians looked on. The kids giggled while the adults laughed heartily or playfully rolled their eyes – although Bella claimed there was nothing playful about the eye-rolls.
Afterward, if there was an excuse for me to stay and volunteer at camp for the morning, I did so. If not, I headed out and left Tristan to a few hours of socializing with children his age while he concurrently received instruction, through age-appropriate lessons and experiences, about the environment around us. And all this came courtesy of the woman who'd become his favorite person. Win-win situation for him.
Meanwhile, I spent my mornings between a couple of hours of home office work, light repairs and improvements around the house, fishing and bullshitting with Emmett, and occasionally with the Chief. When it was time to pick up Tristan, I headed back to camp, where I whistled a tune while helping to set the campsite back to rights in prep for the next day. Because the sooner that got done, the sooner Bella left with us.
This morning, I had a memo to draft and a phone call to return to an ADA in San Francisco. In a couple of weeks, I'd be headed there for two days, and I was hoping to set up a meeting. I also had to call Alice back. She'd be done with her summer classes soon, and she'd been angling for a visit by the end of the month, anxious to meet the woman who Tristan and I couldn't stop speaking about. I had to set up a call between Tristan and his maternal grandmother. Chelsea was still having trouble figuring out the correct times to call her grandson, considering the time difference between New York and Washington State. If I were candid, lately, I'd been too busy with Tristan and Bella to exert myself more than necessary in facilitating my son's interactions with those back home. Emmett was also supposed to stop by at some point this morning for a quick break. I wanted to share a bit of my discussion with Bella last night and see if he had any advice for me on whether I should approach the chief first or wait for him to approach me.
These were the thoughts, the list of things to do running through my mind as I unbuckled Tristan from his car seat that morning. As soon as he was free, he grabbed the backpack and raced forward.
"Tristan," I chuckled after him. "Hold up!"
I sprinted behind, already searching the rec's tree line and the Toddler Campers' tent for Bella, my brow furrowing when I failed to locate her. Usually, she was right within the small perimeter marked out for her campers, waiting for their arrival.
Instead, this morning, Leah, Bella's godsister, greeted the campers. Usually, she waited under the tent with those campers who'd already arrived, keeping them entertained with songs and games until the entire group was ready for the day.
My heart gave one thick, heavy, resounding thump. It then picked up with double the effort. Though my legs also slowed for that fraction of a second, they resumed with quickened steps.
"Where's Bella?" Tristan was already asking when I reached him.
"Tristan, honey-"
"Lee, where's Bella?" I interrupted, knowing I was rude but too impatient to give a damn and wait for the toddler-downed response. When Leah eyed me warily, my heart sank.
"She's not feeling well this morning, and I'm sorry," she added quickly and apologetically, "because I was supposed to call you and let you know, but it's been hectic here without her."
I moved in closer, lowering my voice though what I really wanted was to shout. But I was aware of the other parents around, and despite knowing that Bella considered them all friends, I also knew she wouldn't want her business discussed in the open.
"What's wrong with her?"
"I want Bella!" Tristan demanded at my side.
Leah swallowed and spoke quietly as well. "She woke up nauseous and dizzy, Edward. Dad thinks it was last night's fireworks. The pulsing lights. She's not…she shouldn't be…"
"Jesus."
"I want Bella!"
"Tristan, hold on," I hissed, raking a hand through my hair and gripping my son's hand with the other.
"But I want Bella," Tristan said, much more faintly, the impending tears on the horizon.
Meanwhile, I vacillated both physically and mentally. First, I tugged on Tristan's hand, intending to race back to the truck. Then I retraced my steps, intending to leave him while I ran back by myself. I then convinced myself Bella would want me to take him, only to reflect further that she'd likely want him to proceed with his morning routine uninterrupted and as normally as possible. Leah's next words confirmed the latter.
"Bella wanted you to leave him," she whispered. "She wants him to have-"
"-to have a normal day at camp," I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."
I crouched in front of my teary-eyed son.
"Trist, listen to me."
"Where's Bella?"
"Bella's not feeling well, buddy. Dad's going to go see her, okay?"
"But I want to see her," he whimpered.
"I know you do, buddy." I offered him a weak smile, ruffling his hair. "I know you do. But you're going to have a great Fossil Dig Day with Leah, Esme, Quil, and your Aunt Rosie," I added, having spotted Rose a few yards away, watching us anxiously.
"But-"
"And then, I'm going to pick you up and bring you to Bella, where you can tell us all about Fossil Dig Day because hearing all about it will make her so happy."
"You come get me latuh and take me to Bella?"
"Yeah, buddy."
"You pwomise, Dad?"
"I promise, Tristan."
Leah took Tristan's hand. "Come on, Trist. Esme and Quil are waiting for you! Everyone can't wait to see what you brought for Fossil Dig Day!"
Tristan looked up at Leah unsurely. "I brought a moose Bella got me."
"Ooh! Come on! Let's go back to the tent where we're all going to share our animals! 'Kay?"
She pulled him along, and after a few seconds of admittedly being dragged, Esme and Quil called him, and Tristan skipped more eagerly. Leah took me in over her shoulder.
"He'll be fine, Edward. Go see my godsister. She's with my mom."
"Thanks, Lee."
Swallowing thickly and assured that Tristan was okay, I straightened from my crouch and sprinted back to the truck.
A/N: Thoughts?
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