Forty days.

It had been forty days since my parents disappeared off of the face of this earth, or as Edward said it, "the Swiss County". I knew that was bologna. I knew he would never tell me where they really were. Emmett, who owned a long line of printing shops, made our engagement and my parents' "long-term vacation" front page news, and the utmost believable. I almost believed they were just on vacation, and that they'd come back soon enough to me. Even as he held my hand and cuddled me to him as he read a man's magazine over my head, I wondered if he had ulterior motives. Perhaps he needed my dad completely out of the picture? Maybe my dad was content to be out gone with a few perks the Cullencianos provided- all at the small price of me.

I squirmed a little, the satin material of my nightgown lifting up my thigh. I ignored it, feeling that if I moved to push it down it would only show my weakness around him. He and I were adults. We could handle ourselves. "Edward, if you could have wings or marry me which would you chose?" I sprung the question as an escape from my time-consuming thoughts.

He lifted his eyes from the glossy pages and glanced down at me. "What would I ever need wings for?" His logical approach was just what I needed. Edward never allowed excess- things came to him in the exact amount he wished for; no more, no less than expected. 'Perks' didn't exist in his world.

"Okay then," I shrugged and played with his thumb between my two fingers, "what is something you wish you always had?" I was curious as to what his answer would be. When I was younger, I had always wanted a grand stallion, but when I grew out of the phase, I then wanted to go to University and one day have a highly respected career. I of course voiced thus to my father. A few days later, I owned Abby, a raven colored Arabian Stallion. One of my wishes came true, but it was a wish I no longer had.

His sly smirk answered all of my questions. "You, Isabella." The first few times he said my name, I had an instinctual way of flinching. Now it was almost calming to hear him say my name.

"That's not fair, Edward. What's something else you've wanted, other than me?" I felt silly saying that phrase, but it was to merely amuse my bored mind. He looked at me for a minute or say, relishing in the way he made me squirm in nervousness. His emotionless golden eyes left my face and went back to his reading.

"When I was five, Carlisle promised me a toy train set if I behaved correctly with our nanny, who was a truly wicked woman. I looked forward to that train so badly I dreamt about it nearly every night for those two weeks before my father would be back from his trip. I remember telling myself, you're so close, yet I couldn't wait long enough. I began to act out wildly with Trussa, whom quit as soon as my father arrived back in Chicago. I never received the toy. When Carlisle offered to buy it for my birthday that year, I blatantly refused. I didn't touch a toy train for the rest of my childhood."

"Because of your stupid pride?" I looked up at him, studying his face. His eyes didn't flicker, nor did his mouth ever curve into that wondrous smile of his. Perhaps that childhood encounter had scarred him? Wouldn't it be something ironic if that toy train was the reason he was as prickly as an adult. Ha! It was something to laugh about.

"No, because of the principle. I punished myself for not having restraint, for not having enough self-control. Composure is not something you can practice for a few days and think you've got it mastered. I was training myself with something very useful. Pride had nothing to do with it." He shifted his eyes from the words and to my face. "Is that what you wanted to know? That the only thing I crave almost as badly as you is a childish item?" His mouth was set in a grim line.

He hated questions. He hated when people poked their noses into his business; I knew that, but I just couldn't help it.

We didn't speak much after that. He left for work every morning at the same time; he dressed in his impeccable suits, all sending the same message. He smelled like money and masculinity when he kissed my cheek before he clasped his briefcase. I dared myself to someday tell him farewell in the daylight. But then, I had to dislike him. If I got in silly habits like that, habits that people like my mother and father were used to, I would spiral down- dusty ego and battered heart in hand.

"Edward." I heard myself sigh in content. Since when did that name ever sound so good? I felt a warm pair of lips graze my skin, emitting stubby goose bumps in their trail. I remembered falling into a deep slumber about eight, right after having dealt with my cousin's newfound heartache over some kid named Donald…or was it Dillon?

I wrapped my arms around the figure leaning over me, my brain slowly recognizing just who I was holding onto. His shoulders tensed before relaxing roughly, his body weight pressed against me. I nearly gasped when I felt his arms encircle my back and bring me forward. The dim light form the hallways and the tiny speck of the moon that shined past our curtains were the only light sources, yet they reflected off of him so brightly I was blinded. Lust swept over my body and I couldn't find the ability to speak.

I was half stunned, half mesmerized. I conceded as he placed me on his lap, my legs curling up with me. He kept me close, and we were in the picturesque view of wondrous lovers. It was nice to feel that way- to feel so loved and safe. Being in the modern townhouse in the middle of a booming city- the target home of many ruthless men never helped me sleep much. But now I was here with Edward- the outskirts of the smog haven; everything would be alright.

I wasn't sure what was going on. There weren't hungry ministrations nor were there dominating movements. He only looked at me with his smoldering glance- the one that could melt ice. "What's wrong, Edward?" I had to ask. There was no way he just felt the need to hold me in a lover's embrace this late at night, on an odd Wednesday. And we weren't lovers anyway.

There were no embraces thus far. I looked at him with concern- the kind of concern you had for your friend when you replayed a horrid dream you had about them, or when they were coming off the high of a pregnancy scare. At least, that was what I told myself.

I was rocked to the core when he placed a small kiss on my forehead and smiled- it was a small, inconsiderate smile, yet a smile nonetheless.