Epilogue Part 1

Bella knew her mother was right. She hates to admit it, but those were the best summers of her life.

She looks out from the patio; the breeze flows like her flower-patterned dress around her legs. She holds her sweater close to her chest. Bare feet. The memory of grass in the clearing beneath. So easy. Occasionally, memories come like a buzzing bee. You don't flick at it, or it'll sting. You don't pay it any mind. If you do, it's all-around your ears buzzing, making you stop and stare at trees for hours.

She imagines him far away. He's there. She knows he is. Maybe he watches her now.

Well, he is. He always strains his imperfect eyes to the house when he's getting close. He leaves for a few days at a time, and when he comes back, he anticipates the welcoming.

Home.

Elliot comes running; Emily stands on wobbling legs from where she crawls around her mother's legs. She shrieks for Edward by the door while Elliot hugs his middle.

He does get those moments alone. The difference now is he doesn't want to let it linger. There's just too much to look forward to back home. Now, quiet is in the controlled chaos of family.

Edward walks to Bella, and they kiss. It dwells; those bare feet of hers on their toes to get all of him. "Good?" She asks, arms around him. And he is. She runs fingers through weathered hair, clothes smelling like leaves, and the pine cones he brings for the kids and for her to fill the cabin with … like souvenirs of his time alone.

"Come." She pulls on him.

After a scorching shower, his eyes close, resting under her delicate fingers through his damp hair. She combs the outgrown strands; he hears the clippers by his ears as she lines up the ends. When she wanders between his knees, he clamps her thighs there. His hands skim the hem of her dress, under, and up.

"What?" Bella whispers. Her lips in a soft smile. She brings up the scissors and snips an end of his mustache. "Bigfoot in my kitchen. Caught."

He pulls her to get her lips. She obliges. She tsks when he wants more. She lets go and cuts a good sideburn.

Emily's turn between his knees. Tiny fists, training legs, a good pull, and she's on her one-year-old feet. The brightest, happiest eyes look up at him, proud of herself. He pulls her over his lap. She quickly gets a series of kisses so as not to miss out because soon enough, the other will notice and come barreling in for his attention.

Like clockwork, the two wiggle around in onesie pajamas on his lap, their mother over his shoulder, and a perfect little life.

.

…

.

Months before ….

If you told Edward he would be where he is now; he wouldn't believe you. Truly, you would never tell him anything; no one would. Edward would still be in his tent; hiding, basking in silence, looking up at the treetops, wondering when the first drop of rain would fall. Because years back, he wouldn't be sitting in a clinic's waiting room doing just that. He would be forecasting the clouds, how thick and fat they look sitting on an old milk crate. Now he watches them from the inside through the windows.

He folds his hands over his middle, elbows over the armrests, and he's not under those clouds; he's under a roof. So many roofs over his head these days. He inhabits a real world, or a foreign one. Nevertheless, a strange one. Quiet strangers sitting in rows of chairs in a room, waiting for their names to be called.

He thinks about that.

Even in the real world, there are moments of silence … of strange interactions where shy, polite, or dejected people are around the other, yet giving each other room … in a room, leaving a few chairs vacant between. Then, they are called and moved to another room to see a doctor—another stranger examining another. There are etiquettes in this strange world.

Elliot pushes a wooden ball down an enamel track painted in primary colors. The toy is on a low table they keep for children. Edward gets to sit in a big chair. He's glad. This event is uncomfortable enough to be crouching to Elliot's level. He'd play with him in the living room or in the woods where they hike, but not here. Here, he's … overwhelmed. Well, he's mostly just sweating a little. The heat of summer on their sticky skin.

Then, Bella looks over at him. He feels her look. He knows why she looks. He's treading, that's why. He's adjusting and being. He's living this out, and he needs new glasses to do it right.

His glasses are just fine, that's his opinion. For over a decade, they never even got a scratch. Well, maybe a scuff or two, but that's nothing. Nothing compared to the lifetime they've lived out in the exposed elements with him.

He remembers how he got in this situation, or … mess. He watches Elliot and thinks about it, hoping his name is never called and they can leave and forget all about seeing the doctor.

Then, his name is called.

.

…

.

"Edward." Her voice travels.

"Babe?" When he doesn't answer.

Sometimes he likes to keep quiet, so she'll call him that; it always comes the second time. She's comfortable around him now. No eggshells. It calms him.

"I've found something." There's excitement in her voice.

He's elbows deep in the motor's engine in the backyard. Bella's car was made in the 80s. She grumbles about it all the time. He … quietly feels the guilt for not providing for her. He feels he should be helping more. A Saturday trip to the grocery store resulted in dings and clanks down the freeway. He knew the sounds, what they were. He helps now, but not as much as the feelings that pull at his proud, man-heart. Next step for him; a new car for Bella. He'll do that for her.

"I've been meaning to show you." She's a bit shy when she walks up. She holds something to her chest. "Almost forgot. I … we, Jen and I, searched endlessly for your family. You know, when you were gone, and … we went through school records and found a yearbook." She comes close. "Do you … remember this? Is it you?" She holds the book open.

In the small, tiled photo, there's a boy; short, shaggy hair, glasses, pale, not a sign of a smile on his face. He's blank.

Edward pulls down his glasses from over his head to get a better look. The boy in the photo and the older man stare back at each other. Barely a difference, but a lifetime of experience, both remarkably wearing the very same pair of glasses.

Bella looks up, then at the photo. Up, then back. She dizzies herself as she watches this in awe. She smothers her mouth with her hand.

Edward is contemplative. He remembers. He frowns a bit at the memory that day, fighting with himself to skip school. If he knew that morning would be picture day, he would have. "Yeah. High school." He hands it back. He takes a good look at Bella, who's gone a bit dreamy. It happens a lot, and when she's in it, he knows something's coming. "Just high school." He shrugs.

She laughs this jovial laugh. She reaches on her toes and lays a kiss on him. He's … confused, but her lips always distract. He goes in for a second one, but she's laughing too much.

"What?"

She pats her palms on both his cheeks. She kisses him again. "You, sir, need new glasses."

.

…

.

He stares through a mirror. This is him, high definition and … a little gray. Edward touches his weather-worn face. His fingers move to his hair, where he can see every sharp detail. Even the specific ones that he sees in Elliot. Bella was right; his mouth, his eyes—all him. Edward curiously discovers the features, turning this way, then that.

She gasps. "They finally came in!" Bella walks up to him to see the new rimmed glasses. The opened mailing box is on the table. "How do they feel?" she asks excitedly.

He turns to her, and oh, she should be a melted pool at his feet. Bella goes a bit pink. He looks gorgeous, of course. All the flecks of hair by his ears and the top of his messy, Saturday morning hair match the frame's color perfectly. The speckles on his face the same. He looks like the model you'd see in the store, posing in a poster over the line of frames. Except his expression is more … bewildered.

Bella can't help but giggle.

Then, he's staring. He pulls them off, then back on to experience her face in a clear picture. He caresses her cheeks, lips, and by her eyes. Everything is so detailed. So beautiful.

"What?"

He doesn't answer fast. She's blushing, and she hugs his middle and lets him run his fingers.

"What do you see?"

Wondrously, he says, "All the lines."

She gapes. "Wrinkles?!" She bats him away, turning to the mirror.

Elliot runs in, and now Edward is staring at him. The boy smiles up at Daddy, and Daddy has been missing so much when he looks closely at his boy. A shy and contemplative Elliot is on Dad's hip in no time. They both stare for a while.

"You wook funny!" Elliot says fingers bashfully in his mouth. Then, those wet fingers aim for the clean lenses. Edward blinks around a smudged dot. There goes that.

Still, he catches Bella's fluster from the mirror, her back to him, her figure in her robe. She smooths out her morning eyes, her hair, and then she catches his eyes through the reflection. It's Edward's turn with those dreamy eyes now. What he's thinking is how he'd like to take her back to bed, and this time with these new glasses, so he won't miss a detail. He runs his eyes down her figure. Bella's mouth goes a bit slack.

"Elliot, honey, let's get you dressed. Sue and Pop-pop want to see you today," Bella says, flushed. "'Cause Mommy and Daddy have some chores to do," she says through teeth, most importantly, to her giddy self.

Days later, Edward thinks maybe these new spectacles weren't a good idea after all. Because now, he can see perfectly, and seeing perfectly is seeing all things he cares not for.

Like today. This shouldn't be his point of view, this should be theirs. This is the warm summer day when these camp goers all come together to get loud and eat copiously around a grill. Slaughtered cow in flat buns, tubular meat in bread that hugs and drowns in ketchup. This is their day, not his. He would be in his tent if things were the same.

But there is no tent. No stove on a crate to make a can of soup for supper, anticipating the fireflies he'd get to experience in the dark tonight. Instead, he gets a sinister look a few yards away from Charlie.

Charlie.

Edward sighs. He's holding onto Elliot close between his knees where he sits. That's all he's got; a boy with a mouthful of hotdog and sharp glasses with sharp perspectives.

Sam comes to sit. He settles by him on the picnic table after manning the grill. He's quiet at first, his approach soft.

"Son, pleasure to see you again. How are you holding up?" he finally asks, a paper plate in his hand, plastic fork, too, ready for the bite. Sam chomps on it to give Edward time to answer, to which he nods once anyway. Sam follows that motion. "That's good." More chewing. More awkward silence. Respective glances around the picnic area where everyone is loud, laughing, and chatting. "Trails are busy this year. Can't get a good hike these days." Sam tries again after he swallowed some pasta salad.

"Crowded. Overwhelming."

Sam looks over, amazed at the audible answer. "Yeah. Many new faces, new owners. Too much." He pauses. Bella looks over from across the group to take inventory. Elliot is getting ready for another large bite from the hotdog Edward holds in his hand. A napkin quickly follows to wipe the boy down. Sam winks at her. She grins, a little relieved he's accompanying Edward. "Too much for you right now, I imagine."

Edward quickly glances at Sam.

That, and the concept of being found out. If most knew who he was, what he did … to their homes.

He doesn't belong here.

"Let me tell you…" Sam starts again. "I never cared much for crowds either. I think deep inside, everyone's a little anxious. 'Is the potato salad just right? Did I make enough? Did I overcook the burgers on that grill?'" Sam smirks. That one was about himself. "Mostly, hoping to God, children don't embarrass parents today in front of others. It's all about knowing when to be yourself and when to lie a little. Just enough to make ourselves presentable. But we're all a bit messy."

Edward looks around at those things. And sure enough, the lady hovering over the potato salad is adamant. Another woman has a finger pointed at her loud son, who ran in circles around the table with a ball aimed right at the grill. But mostly, he notices Bella's fidget; pushing her hair nervously over her spaghetti-strapped shoulder as she chats with other folks. It's obvious she's nervous, politely smiling in her dress. He can't help but let his eyes wander to her knees, where it sways delicately.

"What's the point then?" Edward asks him. "Why go through the trouble?"

Sam chuckles. Point taken. He finishes his meal and rolls up the pliable plate in his fist. "Because we love to share and show our best. Commemorate." He says, standing. He touches Edward on his shoulder. "And because we're family. You're welcome here. Don't forget."

Edward blinks up at him, then catches Charlie's glance from afar. He looks away just as fast from under his lashes.

"Oh, that one?" Sam refers to Charlie with a thumb. "I know him plenty, and right now, he's observing how well you're doing the job of a father." He motions to the napkin on Elliot's empty plate. "A task others disinterestedly leave for their wives to do." Edward bunches his brows in question. "Trust me. He's coming around. Keep it up." Pat, pat, on Edward's shoulder.

Elliot is done and ready to run. Edward feels the panic of a parent when he catches his little arm. He whispers in his ear not to go far before Elliot wiggles away. Show our best. He definitely doesn't need a spotlight of shame this second. Maybe Sam's right.

"Now come get some grub, or it'll be gone. I could use some dessert."

Edward stands and keeps up with Sam. Women look over; men look, too. Smiles are polite, but curious.

He's new.

When did Bella find a man? Damn.

He's quiet.

So, he's the father? Where was he?

Scandalous.

Well, hello …

Mrs. Potato Salad hands him over a plateful. That last thought was very much her own. She's smiling.

Bella bites on a nail not to laugh at all the nosy expressions all around, the questions from other moms. She quickly takes the chance and leaves them to get herself an empty plate. "Famished. I'll join you," she says by Edward's elbow. He lets out a breath, glad she's close.

As they go down the buffet line and all the kind servers—who smile just as big as Mrs. Potato Salad—Bella warms his back with a hand to calm him. Maybe she shouldn't have pushed him to come. But it's been months having him in her life; she thought it would be safe now to introduce or … show her best. She's so damn proud, and her heart could burst.

She's still learning, it never ceases. She leaves him alone to fend for himself, purposely, so that she's not a crutch, but purposely, so he's not her complete and utter obsession. Maybe that last part is too late. She rips herself away to give him space anyway.

It's working. All last week, he picked up Elliot from Charlie and Sue's house. He's out with Emmett and Eric for parts at a junkyard. He goes by himself and comes back with milk and bread when they're out. She doesn't even have to ask. He's the organized one now. She's the busy bee with a laptop close by, phone calls, excel sheets, and more printouts a lab researcher could drown in. Her head is in the clouds most of the time.

They sit at the picnic table to eat, and Charlie doesn't know she'll be leaving Edward alone next week with Elliot for a work trip to Boston. Sue and Bella planned it. They know he'll do wonderfully, judging by how he drags his eyes to Elliot every minute to check on him.

Everyone's piled onto this table, and the crowd seems to look over, that feeling of being watched. Bella is beaming inside with pride at the full table of family. It's complete.

Let them look.

Slowly, Charlie traverses to the table. He sits by Sam, across from Sue and the spotlight couple. He grunts a bit. "The potato salad is too soft and dry." Not like —

"Not like Renee's," Sue mirrors his thoughts. He looks up with this love. Bella smiles.

"She was so picky, even about potato salad." Bella leans in a little. "Remember when she sent word with Jen to tell her not to make it that year?" Everyone smiles. "Everyone ate so much. Even Jen knew her mom's couldn't live up to Mom's potato salad."

Edward glances at her when she looks. Her secret smile just for him. Yes, he ate, too. The missing lemon-chicken-gate. He goes a bit red. Bella bumps shoulders with him discreetly. She blows a kiss with a wink when he looks again, but no one else is. His eyes narrow back at her.

Sometimes she could tackle and kiss him anywhere they are. He's so broodingly grumpy, it turns her on.

"Do you think she'll make some for the wedding?" Sue whispers, humored. Bella laughs loud.

"Jen will have a fit in her dress," Bella says. She looks at Edward, who's eating and minding his business. Another event she'll have to convince him to go to. Selfishly, Bella would just love to see him in a suit and tie with slick, combed back hair at a formal event. He's so fit for such clothes; he'd look damned handsome. She knows she's pushing it. She's a dreamer. He's the realist.

Jen and Riley, finally a couple. Next spring, they'll make it official. Even Lauren is invited. Bella smiles at the potential drama of that day. Regardless, she can't wait.

The table settles into a comfortable silence. Before it even gets too quiet, Sam speaks. "Say, how's the car doing?" Charlie looks at him. He grunts. He takes a swig of beer.

"Electrical problem. Need to buy the piece, but it's expensive."

"You and Bella and your old cars. I'll never understand it." Sam shakes his head.

"Hey, I love my car. Bought that beauty myself. It's still good," Bella argues. Charlie just can't get rid of the last thing that was Renee's and his. Both are too attached with reasons.

Edward listens to Bella's response. Good for a junkyard is what he thinks. Sam catches his disagreement in his slight glance. He chuckles. "Trust me, us fixers and makers know best." Sam refers to Edward and his own history of calloused hands. "It's going to leave you stranded on the road one of these days."

Bella waves a hand.

Charlie rolls his eyes at Sam.

"Edward can take a look at it. He fixed Bella's dump; I'm sure he can fix yours," Sam tells Charlie.

Edward kind of goes gray. Charlie can't even look his way. "I hear from Emmett all the time how everyone in town comes to look for Edward with the electrical problems. He's a genius." Bella smiles. "How's the family anyway? I haven't caught up with Emmett in a while." Now he's talking to Bella like what he just did wasn't a grenade toss, putting both adversaries in one sentence. Well, maybe that's the wrong word … more like the rabid dog and the mouse.

Sue is slack-jawed. Her father doesn't cease to amaze her.

"They're good. Business is booming." Bella smiles over at Edward. The business is all him, is what. He's the business. The Cullen family might need to buy property, and expand the garage. Mostly, they want Edward to join them, not leave them. Emmett is now at Edward's heels, trying to keep him close. Eric laughs about it all the time. Edward's dad, proud, watching from his recliner, looking out the window.

The irony.

Bella stands to get herself some napkins and water, leaving the table quiet and simmering, Edward dreadfully looking after her. But not before she winked an eye at Sam for his attempt to bridge that gap. Sue quickly finds the exit, too. Maybe to apologize to Bella through teeth about her father's nosiness, but definitely escaping the tension.

The ruckus of children takes up the silence.

That bratty child from earlier rushes past the table and crashes into the bin with all the soft drinks. Cans of soda and paper cups go tumbling everywhere, everyone close by 'whoa-s' and 'hey-s' at the insidious kid.

Edward stretches an arm out and catches Elliot's chest just in time as he runs past, too. "Not a chance," he seems to say without words. Elliot's face freezes, caught, looking up. It crumbles just as quickly when he sees Daddy's knitted brows.

Edward scoops him up in a sweep where he sits. Elliot cries. Still so little, he fits perfectly, smothered against his father's chest. Little red tongue visible inside his crooked, gaping mouth as he wails. Sweat streaming down his temples from running around.

"Look at that son of a bitch," Sam says between his teeth about the other troubled kid far away. "Get on up, boy. Walk it off," he says loudly over his shoulder. The boy wobbles a few times before he finds his feet. "Little shit, just like his father." He keeps that one quiet. Charlie wheezes, laughing beside him, but when he sobers up enough, he sees the warm interaction at this table.

Charlie and Sam watch as Edward calms his boy down. Hiccups coming from Elliot, under soothing hands. Edward brings his cup of water to his lips, and Elliot drinks. He dips fingers in the ice-cold cup and runs it over Elliot's forehead so he'll cool down. The boy is wordlessly reprimanded but cradled.

Charlie sees the love. Their instant connection.

A knot forms in his throat.

Maybe Sam's right. He needs to learn to let the past go; The car and the grudge.

He clears his throat a couple of times before he conjures up the nerve. "You, uh … You busy Friday?" He asks Edward.

Edward is watching the cleanup from his seat, his tight grip under Elliot's little butt as he's drifting to sleep on his shoulder. He looks over.

"Maybe you can take a look and confirm it for me before I buy the car part?" Charlie offers.

Edward blinks a few times. Surprised? He nods once and looks away. "The year? Make?" He asks.

Charlie shifts on the bench and takes the invitation to this micro dialogue. Sam is beaming. Charlie rolls his eyes at him. "Late 90's. Mercedes."

Edward's eyes drift over Elliot's head to think. "Yeah, it needs it." He says about the part.

"Look at that, don't even need to see the car," Sam says with a chuckle.

Charlie swears under his teeth. There goes almost a grand, plus labor.

"I've got it. Bring it Friday," Edward says. Free part and service. Charlie is taken. So is Bella when she gets close and hears his voice. They were talking? Wow.

Sam smiles at her. Then he kind of frowns and dips his head to the side, watching Bella curiously.

Bella suddenly goes gray and runs off to find a trash barrel. Sue arrives wondering where Bella went so fast. Everyone at the table has turned to watch her bent over, retching her lunch. Edward stands and walks to her, Elliot fast asleep on his shoulder.

Sam is confused. Edward is concerned.

"Uh, oh," Sue says with a wide smile. She's none of the above.

Charlie turns his head. "It's that damn potato salad! I warned her. I warned all of you."

Sue can't help but laugh at this new development.

.

…

.

I'm pregnant? Oh, God, I'm pregnant!

Bella runs a hand over her face watching Edward and Elliot. What is wrong with her? Why does she do this to him? The first time, now the second. How could she just disregard taking care of herself when she's with him? It's not like she was prepared anyway. The first time, that night in her bedroom when he came in, how do you pause? It surprises her that she didn't remember. Like, completely out of mind, they desperately came together. She'll never regret it, but how outrageous that she didn't think about it. Well, how could she? He was just so …

She groans loudly.

She aches with the memory. Well, last night's memory. The memory is vivid as it's been nearly every night after that. At first, it was. He's a man of habit, and if it feels that good, it becomes a ritual. He's a worshiper.

Bella didn't mind. Not even the night he wedged her to the kitchen counter after putting Elliot to sleep. His hands squeezed her after watching her from across the room all night—inspired by a book he finished before dinner. Dark eyes were on her, not knowing how to channel the feelings. "Come," she said, reaching behind her. Frenzied hands to get bottoms off where they stood.

She wanted all of it, every moment, but at times she couldn't keep up. She had to balance it out; feathered kisses over his eyes, whispering to sleep and forgo a night. He caught that. Then, he wouldn't touch her for a week. She had to initiate, telling him to feel it out or simply ask. Lessons were always there.

Who knew the entire time Bella's body was just tired and reacting to something new; A baby. Despite taking care of herself the day after that wondrous weekend, going to Sue for pills, it still didn't work for her.

Now to tell him. Urgh. Bella wants to die of mortification. They've barely got together. Within the first year? She must have malfunctioned in that head of hers.

Sue smiles from the kitchen. They all came back to Arby's cabin after the picnic—where Sue rushed to the bathroom with her to the supply of things she keeps for the clinic. The visible cross is now in her purse. Bright blue and clear as day.

Bella rolls her eyes at her, sitting at the breakfast table. Edward and Elliot are on the large porch playing with a ball. Charlie is out there with Sam chatting on wicker chairs.

Everyone is now carefully watching out for their own bellies, because now the story is the potato salad was bad. If only it were that.

If only.

"Stop crying. This is a miracle." Sue places hot tea in front of her. Bella quickly wipes away tears.

"It's my fault. My negligence."

Sue shakes her head as she talks. "I made sure you were taken care of. I remember. By the book. Sometimes it just doesn't work. It could happen to any woman."

Bella sighs heavily. "How will I tell him? By the way, I've trapped you again. More responsibility. Welcome to the permanent family. Urgh! I could just die!"

Sue chuckles. "He's invested. You see how he watches that boy. People like him, who have possessions, don't let go of them. He's always had little; now it's something big. He could never walk away. Not in his nature. They love routine and structure in some ways."

Sue is right. She's watched him during the months. He doesn't tire of the same things when it's boring for her, worry that it would be for him, he's calm, steady. She's the one who stirs up routine to do different things. Going to the zoo was an event last month. He enjoyed that more than Elliot, she could tell.

Edward looks into the house from the steps of the porch. His eyes on her.

"Keep Elliot tonight?" Bella asks.

"Yup. Going to go see the fireworks in a bit." Sue says behind her mug, delightfully watching this unfold.

Bella stands and walks to Edward, their eyes still connected. She steps down on the first step by his leg and reaches for him to take her hand.

In a cloud, they walk away, hand in hand, not a word said. It's that night, the one where fireflies come to float and accompany—the real fireworks. Long ago, on a night like this, they shared a tent, maybe just one pillow. How daring she was curling up beside him, barely knowing him.

When they get to the lake—a dark night, no one in sight—it's automatic; Bella pulls off her dress and helps him start on his shirt. He watches intently at her lips as she does. She loves that. It's so different now, standing on the same dock from years ago.

He leans in to kiss her longingly. He's always zeroed in; nothing could deter. His kiss ardent. Bella let's go to jump in.

When she's submerged, she looks over at the dock; the dark water bubbles, no sight of him. The ripples are there to point the way, right to her. She waits. She feels him. Warm hands on her thighs, up to her waist. His lips press to her belly, then up between her breasts. He pops up to get to her neck.

"You did amazing today," she says, hugging him. "Thank you."

He's busy nipping at her skin.

"Everyone loves you."

He doubts that, but barely thinks about it as his focus has changed.

He runs his hands down her back to her ass as he pulls her down into the water. They kiss in darkness. Her hair drifts around them, their legs tangled, drifting. When they come up, she gasps for breath, not for air, but the feel of him fitting inside her.

She lets go for a second, no thoughts of anxiety. She floats on her back, she grips him with her thighs, legs curled around him, clinging on. Warmth inside her.

And this is how they got into her predicament. A second child is growing inside. It's so easy for them to make them. His hand travels over her stomach as they move.

She sighs through it, on him, over his shoulder, coming up. The words at the tip of her tongue, but not even able to utter them. His dogged hips against her; he grips every part of her, inside and out. The way he makes love is like he's indulging that part of him that takes, with skill and grit, no question. He makes her his. Bella is along for the ride every time. After months of practice, they've become so familiar with one another.

When she's rolling slow and lazy beneath, he watches her. Her eyes fluttering, the twinkle of the moon where it's wet at the very corners.

Her head dips back at the sky, and those tears are of trouble.

Well, he knows. He's not inept or unaware. He's underestimated. Misunderstood. Today, for him, everything clicked.

His hand runs down her front, between them, below her navel.

"Tell me," he says. Her eyes catch his.

She sighs heavily. "What, that I've done it again? That I've tied you to me a second time?" Her tears spill. She tries to pull away, but he tenses his arms a little more.

He shakes his head slightly. Not that. "How long?" he asks. He skims his lips over hers.

"The very first time, when you came to me. It just took that one night." She says bluntly, with a tinge of anger.

He blinks, trailing his eyes over her face. He thinks on that. He noticed her slight changes. Her chest in particular. He stares at those maybe more than she does. He touches one, his thumb running over her hard nipple. Her lips part at that. He dips and takes it into his mouth to erase that anger. She sighs, giving in.

He had a feeling about this monumental change. He's the one who keeps the bathroom and cupboards tidy and organized. All her stuff untouched for months, practically collecting dust.

He kisses her. Just when she thinks he'll let go, he lingers. The warmest liquid love flows between them.

"Your assumptions," he says as a reminder. She remembers. It's their silly little struggle. "The only tie-ups are around a lifesaver. You've caught me. You've made me happy, all right?"

Bella's chin quivers. She nods. He's never said those words. She lays her cheek on his shoulder. "Not completely. You need your time. You have to do that for yourself."

"That's up to me." He says that with finality. "Now shut up about it and tell me everything. I'm not missing anything this time." He's curious. She's become his new book.

Bella laughs. She hugs him tight.

"Just hurling my guts out. That's all for now. Nothing special." She feels him nod. "God, no wonder we've been inseparable. I've been on this streak of ..."

"Hormones?" He suggests. She chuckles. Mr. Textbook.

Her smile turns to a frown minutely. "I'm so sorry," she whimpers. She pulls in air to cry again.

He bumps his lips over her skin, his eyes closing. He moves to her ear and whispers, "I haven't complained about the process." He runs his hand all over her underwater.

She laughs. Not a shy bone on him these days. No one gets to see this side but her. She loves it.

They stay like this for a time. The stars are showing off tonight.

His hand minutely travels across the water, the space between them, to her very middle as they leisurely float. Then hers follows. A mound of hands on the unforeseeable thing.

He never thought in all the plans for his life, he would share something like this with someone. Now it'll be more. And he wants it, the two, he wants Bella, and he wants all of it.

"You name it this time," she suggests as they float on their backs. The fireworks up high, all the colors popping loudly.

He's quiet the rest of the time, but she knows he's scanning through every heroine in every book he's read for the right one.

.

…

.

A/N: Oh, Hi.

Thanks to Frannie for looking this through, and Patricia for pre-reading. Love you for your time.

I'm finally letting these two above rest with closure. But not yet, this isn't all of it. Part 2 is next. Keep watch and thanks for coming back. xoxo

I fucking miss this. This thing. Writing. Gah.