50

I'd never accuse my oldest of cheating, but she's really fucking smart, and I'm pretty sure she counts cards.

Bella and I are about to have our asses handed to us.

I'd like to put my hand on her—

"Edward?"

"Yep?"

Bella points to the table. "Cut the deck so I can deal."

Alice pops in to tell us she'll be in her room so she doesn't have to hear the bickering. She claims she doesn't have the attention span for poker, so she's never tried to learn.

We give up around ten at night. I use the excuse that Angela has school tomorrow, but the truth is I already owe her fifty-eight dollars if I want to get my watch back.

Yeah, she cleaned my wallet, and it was all I had left.

Bella starts cleaning up with a deep scowl set in place.

She's not in the hole but she got more desperate than I did, running upstairs and returning with baubles she'd collected over time when she lost all the cash she had on her, just to stay in the game.

"That was fun," Angela says, piling her winnings into her shirt with a happy dance. "We should do this more often."

Bella scoffs. "Go to bed, Rabbit."

"Sore loser." Angela coughs into her hand.

"Rabbit ..."

"Okay, okay. I'm going. Goodnight all."

I can hear her giggling until her bedroom door shuts.

"She's a cheat," Bella whisper-yells.

"No, she isn't."

I grab my glass and try to forget trying to offer my sixteen-year-old daughter a sip of scotch in a desperate attempt to up the ante.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Bella stepped in and told me to cool it. She's such a mom.

"Edward, she counts cards." She sniffs, turning the poker table over and folding its legs in.

I know that, but she's still my kid. "Or maybe she's got all the Cullen luck," I defend.

"That's bullshit. We just collectively lost over three hundred dollars to a lying, stinking cheat."

"Bella, calm down." I laugh. "It's just a game."

And then I do something potentially stupid. I reach out and caress her cheek with the pad of my thumb. It's like static when I touch her, and it's addictive. My lips tingle, and I want—no, I need to kiss her, but she pulls away before I can close the distance.

Her eyes are everywhere but on me. "I really need to talk to my mom," she breathes.

Saturday can go one of two ways.

Renee Swan can tell us we're insane and have us both committed, or she could tell us what I think she's going to tell us.

She could tell us what I really hope it is.

If I've learned anything about myself these past couple weeks, it's that I could get used to the idea of being Bella's mate.