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Forks, Washington
December 26
8:23 am

I wake up to a knock on the door and the smell of coffee. I mumble it's open, and in walks Edward, carrying two steaming mugs and a brown paper bag, the top of it folded over.

"Food?" I ask, pointing toward the bag.

"Good morning to you, too," he teases. "And no."

"Oh. Well either way, you're the best," I murmur, swiping under my eyes, hoping my day-old mascara isn't completely crusted and smeared. "Thanks for the caffeine."

He carefully hands me the coffee, setting the paper bag on the twin-sized bed as he sits on the edge. He slept on the couch last night, and I stayed in his childhood room. There are baseball trophies littering his dresser, a dusty trumpet in the corner, and Star Wars figurines that're still in their boxes. I definitely teased him, and found it entirely too attractive when he blushed.

"How'd you sleep?"

"I slept well," I say, blowing on my coffee.

He raises an eyebrow. "Really? This is the most uncomfortable mattress in all of Washington."

"Okay, so my back really hurts," I laugh. "But I was trying to be… nice."

"You?" he says with that teasing smile.

"Yes, me. Maybe my Grinch heart is growing." He gives me a look. "Or maybe I'm at the mercy of a houseful of strangers and I'm trying to be cooperative." He chuckles. "Or maybe I just like you."

"Maybe?" he asks quietly, smirking.

We hear footsteps shuffling down the hall, and then Alice is in the doorway. She tells us Carlisle's in charge of breakfast and that everything will be ready in the next ten minutes if we're hungry. We both say okay, and she lingers for a second, smiling, before disappearing.

Subtle.

"So what's the plan for the day?" I ask. "Don't let me keep you guys from your normal Christmas-time routine."

"Well… first thing's first." He picks up the paper bag and hands it to me. "Merry Christmas. A day late."

I give him a look, setting my mug on his bedside table. "What's this?"

"Open it."

Taking it from his hands, I feel that it's light and square-shaped. And when I pull out what's inside, I can't help but laugh.

"Kid Rock, huh? Damn, you're a punk."

He laughs along with me, flipping over the CD, pointing toward the list of songs. "It's the good album, too. It has Cowboy and Bawitdaba. I knew I had to get it for you after that saucy dream you had in the car a few days ago."

I roll my eyes. "Where did you get this?"

"Gas stations have all sorts of fun things."

"You're such a weirdo. But I couldn't have asked for anything more," I say sarcastically, then pause. "Well, actually…"

His eyebrows raise. "Yeah?"

"So last night after we played games with your family—"

"You mean after Emmett was acting like a sore loser?"

"I've never seen a grown man get so competitive over Charades," I agree. "Anyway, Alice was asking about my family and why I wasn't spending Christmas with them. And I told her my little sob story about wanting to surprise my dad and what not. And she suggested I still surprise him even though he's at the cabin, fishing. I mean… she got really emotional about all of it. She blamed it on her hormones. But it got me thinking that it would mean a lot to him, and to me, if I still went through with my original plan."

"Don't let Alice's hormones fool you. She's always been sentimental."

"Well I can appreciate that in her, 'cause I'm definitely… not."

"Ah, you're softening up a bit. You haven't said fuck yet this morning."

"Shit. I haven't?"

"No. But there's still time. It's barely 9."

"True."

"So this plan of yours," he says, playfully narrowing his eyes. "Does it require a driver?"

"Well… no. I can figure something out."

"And if I wanted to drive you?"

I was hesitant to ask for a ride. Which is why I didn't. Because he's already done so much for me. Like above and beyond.

"What about your family?"

"They'd understand. Besides, this trip will be a hell of a lot quicker than the last one we took. No snow and nary a feces-covered bathroom key in sight."

I cough out a laugh. "Why did you remind me? I was trying to suppress the god-awful memory of that gas station." He just shrugs, smirks. "You really don't mind driving, though?"

"Not at all," he says, just like a goddamn saint would. "So? What do you say?"

With a smile and a quick glance of the Kid Rock CD, I say, "Fuck yes."

AHHHHHHHHH. It's a fucking Christmas miracle. If you're still reading this, thank you. If you just popped over here for… well I don't know why you'd be here unless you read it. So. Thank you. There will be more, THIS IS A PROMISE. I HAVE MADE IT MY GOAL. MY... CHRISTMAS GOAL.

p.s. the Kid Rock CD thing was an inside joke from chapter 5. Bella isn't really a fan. she thinks his facial hair is sketchy.