Because I'm somewhat nice (and I like waking up to all your lovely reviews when my horrid alarm goes off at 4am) I decided to post this before I go to bed instead of waiting until morning. You're welcome ;) and after the mean teaser I posted on Facebook, I know none of you care about what I have to say up here, so on with the show...

Chapter Ten

Bella

Even with a few too many daiquiris in me, I'm scarily aware of Edward's presence.

The seductive beat of the music drowns out his footsteps, but the warmth of his gaze on me is impossible to ignore.

Lewis Capaldi's gravelly voice fills the room, my hips instinctively swaying to the beat. My eyes slide closed, the buzz of alcohol loosening my movements and my inhibitions.

It's been so long since I let go and had a few drinks.

Which is probably why you're such a lightweight, the sensible, rational, easily-ignored part of my brain points out as I feel the heat of Edward's body nearing.

"What are you doing?" His voice is a rumble.

A delicious, growly, close-to-my-ear rumble.

"Dancing," I breathe, sucking in a deep breath as I slowly spin. He catches me before I make it all the way, large hands encasing my hips and holding me captive. I feel a rush of air as he heaves in a breath, his chest brushing my back, he's that close now.

This sudden turn of events…me, him, this moment…is a heady rush of will he, won't he?

My stomach knots, excitement and nerves and want all rolled into one. With each drink, my attraction to Edward has only gotten harder to ignore.

He always used to have a short, trimmed beard. Now, it's a little longer, more unkempt. It's surprisingly sexy. The sharpness of his green gaze contrasts with the gentle way his eyes caress my skin. His Burger Co. tee hugs his biceps and chest in a way that draws attention to the no-doubt firm muscles underneath. His cargo shorts are almost molded to his thick thighs, but not so much that they look silly.

A vague image of Edward wearing the tight jeans my ex always favored almost makes me laugh.

I would have, if not for the slight squeeze of Edward's hands before he slowly slides one up my side, sneaking his fingertips below the hem of my borrowed t-shirt.

"You're sin, you know that?"

"Wh-what?"

His low chuckle spreads through me, his chest pressing against my back. "I almost didn't give you this shirt. I liked you in the other one too much."

"Oh…" My response, faint though it is, apparently amuses him. He laughs again, gently but firmly spinning me around. I have to tip my neck to peer up at him, realizing just how tall he is in comparison to my petite five-four. His presence is overwhelming. He dwarfs me, his broad form surrounding me, his wide shoulders at my front and his hand at the small of my back holding me to him.

Edward's eyes shine a bright, grassy green as he gazes down at me, his nostrils flaring when I tentatively rest my hand on his waist before boldly diving under the fabric. The heat of his skin under my palm warms my entire body. My cheeks flush, my heart hammering against my chest.

My sixteen-year-old self would be squealing her head off if she could see us now.

The tender yet firm grasp of Edward's hands on me is maddening. It's perfect and yet not enough. He lightly teases the curve of my waist with his fingertips, the corner of his mouth curling up in a slight, devious smirk.

"What are you, um…what are you doing?"

"Can't you tell?"

"N-no." I can hope, but that's not the same thing, and it's probably the daiquiris talking.

Leaning closer, so his breath fans over my face—smoky and spicy with a hint of sweet from the sip of my drink he stole earlier—Edward sighs. The conflict, his hesitation, it's a living, breathing entity between us. It's all over his face and his slow but deliberate touch. I can see the war raging in his head. "I'm taking you home."

Disappointment lands heavy in my gut, a lump in my throat. "It doesn't feel like it."

"No?" Edward's hand stretches farther up my shirt. A shiver ripples down my spine as the very ends of his long fingers reach the bottom of my bra.

Holy shit, is this happening? Does Edward Cullen seriously have his hand up my shirt?

The ever-so-slight brush of his fingers against my breast confirms that yes, he absolutely does have his hand up there. And boy, do I wish he'd do more than just lightly brush against me.

A breathy sigh rushes from my lungs as he glides his hand lower. The calloused tips of his fingers leave goosebumps in their wake before hitting the band of my shorts. For a second, I waver, wondering…

Is this a good idea? Do I want this?

The cool air that replaces his touch when he finally mumbles something too soft for me to decipher and pulls his hand away leaves me feeling cold. Yeah, I want this. Our chests touch when we each suck in a deep breath. I can't help but smile; he mirrors it, something like wistfulness clouding his pretty eyes. If I didn't understand his reasons, if I weren't pretty confident that our ages and our connection—namely, my parents—are to blame for him slamming on the brakes, I'd be pissed at his hot and cold routine. As it is, I remind myself that this feels great right now, but a heat-of-the-moment lax in sense isn't the way I want this to happen with us, if anything is going to happen.

"I really am taking you home," he says, looking more like he's trying to convince himself than me.

"Okay," I say softly, biting my lip for a moment before leaning into his chest and winding my arms around him. He's big—broad as well as tall—so they only just cross over. My head goes to his chest, warm and firm, and the nerves I was feeling before dissipate as his hands rest at the small of my back and his chin lands on my head.

It's sweet and tender and not at all like any of the casually friendly interactions we've had in the past or the heated exchange just moments ago. It's…more. It's perfect. It's progress.

"C'mon, short stuff. Let's get you home."

After making sure everything is as it should be, Edward grabs his lightweight sports coat and leads me out into the night. The Boardwalk is well lit, so we take off together with the glow of the streetlights making his hair shine copper and his eyes gleam whenever I catch him looking at me instead of where we're going.

Something has shifted tonight. I may have been drinking, but I'm not blind or stupid. I can feel something is different. The way he's looking at me, the way his hands felt on my skin, the heat of him looming over and around me…

Oh yeah, that crush I was so desperate to escape from all those years ago definitely survived the separation.

Ambling along with the soft breeze playing with my hair and the warmth of the summer night keeping me from feeling a chill, I can't help but ask, "Why are you being so nice?"

Edward raises his eyebrows, jamming his hands in his pockets. "Why wouldn't I be?"

I shrug. "No reason. I just…you seem…"

One side of his mouth curls up. "Different?"

I smile right back at him. "Have you been hearing that a lot?"

"Kind of." He hums, looking up at the sky for a beat like he's searching for something.

Or someone.

"Why did you come back?"

The sudden change of topic shouldn't surprise me, but it does. I frown down at my feet as we walk side-by-side, past the ice creamery and the laundromat and the Samuels' bakery.

"I wanted to be closer to my family. I wanted the boys to be closer to them. In England, we only really had Jude. Here, they have grandparents, aunts, an uncle, a cousin…"

"What about their father's family?" I can see that it pains him to ask questions. The sight of him looking so uncomfortable makes me grin, though. I feel like he's pushing his own boundaries with the small talk. I get the feeling he doesn't do enough talking. If spilling my own train wreck of a love life helps him open up a bit more, I'm game.

"He has a younger brother, Robert. His parents live an hour or so away from where I lived with the boys, and Robert lives near them with his wife and their son. I think the last time we saw any of them was when their boy was born, and he turned two in May."

"Christ, so Arlo was…two?"

"Mmhm." He's changed so much since then. He wasn't even talking in any kind of sentences the last time he saw any of his extended paternal family. Arlo babbled, but none of it really made sense until he was around three and started going to nursery. Sometimes, figuring out what he wanted was like having to decipher the Da Vinci code. "Jax and Finn occasionally ask about them, but not often, and Arlo probably wouldn't have a clue who I was talking about if I brought them up."

"That's…real sad."

"It is. I see the boys with Mom and Dad, or with Rose, Everly, and Ben, and it just boggles my mind that they have great relationships with them but don't know the family members who lived fifty miles away from us."

Edward's right—it is sad that the boys don't know their paternal family. However, I learned early on that the people who really care will make the effort. Take my parents, for example. They've flown out at least twice a year, every year, since I left for England. My siblings even came when they could. Yet the boys' other grandparents and uncle could barely be bothered to send cards for their birthdays or Christmas.

One year, Jaxson and Finley's shared birthday card was made out 'To the twins.' Their grandmother didn't even write their names on it.

"Did they object to you leaving the country?"

I laugh, but the sound holds no humor. "I wouldn't know. They didn't respond to any of the messages I left on their answer machine or the last-ditch email I sent. I assume Richard told them I was leaving as well after he told me 'do whatever' when I asked for his thoughts on moving."

"Christ, Bella. That's all kinds of fucked up."

"You're tellin' me."

I'll never regret the poor decisions that kept my relationship with Richard going for so long, because I got my boys out of it, but he's not the man I thought he was when we started out. He's not the father I would have chosen for my sweet, funny, caring sons. I'm not always sure that I'm the best mother on the planet. In fact I'm definitely not. I lose my shit with them sometimes and I'm not always as patient as I probably should be, but that's parenthood. I apologize, the boys usually apologize, and we move on. None of us are perfect, and that's one of the biggest things that frustrates me about Richard. I've never demanded perfection from him. All I've ever asked is that he prioritize his sons. They deserve better than his half-assed attempts at being a parent when it suits him.

Glancing around, I realize we're not far away from the house. A few minutes, give or take. Our time is running short, and I'd rather not spend it talking about my ex or his family. "Aren't you walking in the wrong direction? Your house is a few streets that way, right?"

"It's fine, Bella. I said I'd get you home and I will." Edward's tone brooks no argument, but it makes me smile.

"I appreciate it. You didn't have to."

"Sure, I did." He flashes me a grin, and it strikes me for the first time that it looks strained, like he doesn't do it often. As he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, Edward confirms my suspicion. Smiling makes him uncomfortable. Noted. "Your dad would have my head on a platter if he found out I let you walk home alone at this time of night."

Laughter bubbles out of me. "You sound like a boy taking a girl on a first date or something." Raising an eyebrow, I ask, "Do you have honorable intentions, Mr. Cullen?"

"Not at all," Edward says casually, barking a soft chuckle when my feet come to an abrupt stop and the smile falls from my face.

"You…why would…you can't say things like that!"

"Why not?"

"Because…" I flounder for a moment, shaking my head and speeding up to catch up with him. "Because it's mean to tease."

"Who says I'm teasing, short stuff?"

My poor brain can't keep up.

One minute he's putting the brakes on, the next he's teasing…maybe? I can't even tell. The tiny smirk on his face when I peer up at him gives nothing away, nor does the moonlit jade of his eyes. If he didn't look so pleased with himself, and if he didn't look so damn hot even obviously smug, I might be able to muster some annoyance. As it is, I'm mildly frustrated.

"God, Edward—"

"I'm sorry." He stops, gently taking one of my hands to turn me toward him. I can see the regret in the curve of his frown; the hesitance and sincerity shines through his eyes. I'm just not sure what it is, exactly, that he regrets. "We've both had a few too many drinks to be acting completely rationally, I think."

My heart sinks. I slip my hand from his, shoving both in my pockets. I get it, I get it, I get it, I tell myself, trying to talk myself out of falling into my usual cycle of rejection-fuelled self-depreciation.

Before he can completely crush my fragile ego, I decide to do it myself. "You're right. We're both a little too tipsy to make good decisions. No harm, no foul, Edward."

Confusion knots my brows as Edward's expression changes and he faces away for a moment. When he turns back to me, he's not the Edward of thirty seconds ago. He's closed off, blank-faced.

"You'd better get inside," he says simply, dismissing me.

Looking up, I realize we're at the foot of Mom and Dad's driveway. The lights are all off except in the foyer, its welcoming glow sneaking through the glass in the top of the front door. Suddenly, all I want is my boys. "Thanks for walking me home."

He nods, itching to leave. He shuffles his feet, rubs his neck, and glances toward the street that will take him to his house a couple of blocks over.

He's already running but he hasn't even moved yet.

"Welcome."

"Goodnight, Edward," I whisper, turning to head up the drive.

When I peer out of my bedroom window a few minutes later, part of me hopes he'll still be standing there.

He isn't.

~ oOo ~

Every year on the Fourth of July, all the residents of Jackson Bay put together a parade.

Compared to some other places, it's a pretty small affair. The businesses in town put together a few floats, Burger Co. usually caters, and the whole town turns out in force to watch the fireworks on the beach.

I didn't realize how much I missed it until I wake up on the fourth of July and remember that my boys are going to be right up there at the front of the parade. Swan's Nest is the main sponsor this year, so Dad invited my three boys and Danny to be the mascots—along with the graduating kindergarten class of Jackson Bay Montessori.

"Momma, today's the parade!" Jaxson crows, leaping onto my bed when the sun is barely shining through the drapes.

Groaning, I roll over and tug him with me. He giggles, wriggling around to sneak under the covers. I slowly ease one eye open.

Moppy-haired and still wrinkled with pillow lines across his cheek, Jaxson grins, leaning in to pop a kiss on the tip of my nose. "Mornin', Momma. It's the Fourth of July!"

"I know, baby," I rasp, still half-asleep but waking up fast. "Are you excited to be in the parade?"

"Uh huh. Papa says me, Finn, and Arlo are gonna be at the front."

"That's right, you will be—Danny, too. That means you've got to behave."

Jaxson flashes me his father's grin and crosses his heart. It's then that I notice…

"Did you lose your pjs while you were sleeping, kiddo?"

There is no sweeter sound than my boy's giggles. Jaxson's are too loud for my still-waking-up ears but they're still glorious as I tickle his bare belly before burying my face in his neck and blowing raspberries against his skin.

"Momma, stop," he whines between giggles, wriggling away from my tickling fingers. When I let up with one last, loud smooch to his forehead, he offers me the sort of long-suffering smile I'm sure I wear when my parents are embarrassing. "You're silly."

"But you love me silly," I point out, snuggling back down under the covers with my biggest boy.

"Yeah, I guess you're fun." Before I can tickle attack him again, Jaxson twists to face me, tucking his hand under his head and resting it on the pillow. I mirror him, already obscenely sad about the fact that, one day, he won't want to do this with me anymore.

"What's up, kiddo? You've got your thinking face on."

"I'm just wonderin'…can we go eat at Edward's restaurant again?"

My stomach twists. Since that awkward ending to a great night the other day, I haven't seen Edward. The day after I helped at the restaurant, he dropped an envelope of cash into the mailbox with my name and "thank you" scribbled across the front. He didn't even come to the door.

It's obvious that he regrets what happened. I can still remember the whisper-soft brush of his fingers against me, the trail they blazed down my stomach, and his strong chest at my back. It's pretty clear he wishes he could forget it all.

I'm disappointed, but I can't say I'm surprised.

"I don't know, baby," I sigh. "He'll probably be at the parade today. You'll see him there if you get hungry."

"I'm already hungry."

"Shock, horror," I laugh. "What do you say, shall we get up and make some breakfast? You need lots of fuel in your belly so you're ready for later on."

"Can we have muffins? Ooh, and bacon?"

"Sure, Jax. Whatever you want."

After sending him off to fetch a pair of pajama bottoms, we head downstairs together. Mom and Dad aren't up yet, which doesn't come as a shock. They got back from visiting one of Dad's out-of-state hotels late last night, so they're probably exhausted. Rosalie stayed over at the hotel, and Everly got in late after a night out with her girlfriends at Blue, the one and only bar in Jackson Bay. I don't expect to see any of them until much later in the morning.

"All right, kiddo. Do you remember what we need to make the muffins?"

"Uh, I think so…"

Stepping into the pantry together, I grin and congratulate him when he remembers all of the ingredients except two—the cinnamon and milk.

By the time we've measured and mixed everything and started spooning the mixture into cupcake liners, Mom and Finley are up.

"Morning, sweetheart. Happy Fourth." Mom plants a kiss on the side of my head before grabbing Jaxson's face to pepper it with noisy kisses.

"Nana!" he whines, but I can tell he's loving it by his big grin.

"What? It's a nana's right to give her gorgeous grandbabies some love in the morning." She turns her attention to Finley next, who flushes crimson but laps up her attention.

Once she's done, Mom sits herself at the breakfast bar beside Finley. He's still waking up, his eyes half-lidded and his hair an absolute mess as he rests his elbows on the counter and his chin in his hands.

"What are we making this morning?" Mom asks, eyeing the mess across the counter.

"Breakfast muffins!" Jaxson crows, adding a too-big dollop of mixture to one of the liners.

"Careful, don't overload it, kiddo."

He flashes me a grin and takes some out, dumping it in the next one. "Fixed it."

"Can I help at all?"

"No, Mom. You sit and relax. Can I get you a coffee?"

She smiles and shakes her head—at my stubbornness, presumably—before asking for her usual. Thankfully, she's easy when it comes to coffee. Black, no sugar is the way she's always taken it.

As I set the steaming coffee in front of her a couple of minutes later, Jaxson tells me he's done and the bowl is basically empty.

"You can share the bits in the bowl with your brother," I tell him pointedly, laughing when he groans. He should think himself lucky it's just Finley. If Arlo were up, his big brothers likely wouldn't get a look in. As it happens, I don't expect him to get up for a little while yet. He loves his sleep, like me. We're the bed hogs while Jaxson and Finley are usually my early risers.

With Mom sipping her coffee, the boys sharing the little bits of batter in the bowl, and the muffins cooking nicely in the oven, I lean against the counter and sip my own coffee as I run through today's to-do list.

Once we've all eaten, Mom will want to take over the kitchen so she can get the cookies made for later on. I haven't seen it since I left for England, but the parade always used to include a food area down at the end of The Boardwalk. There, Burger Co. would serve burgers and fries to everyone. As far as I can remember, Mrs. Paul from the ice creamery used to take her cart out, too, and the old owners of the Samuels' bakery—Charlie's grandparents, who both retired to Boca while I was gone—brought some of their delicious pastries and cakes. I suppose the Georges will want to contribute something from the pizzeria, too, but I don't know for sure.

Then there's the parade itself. It was always small when I was a kid, although it felt big to me as a young child.

"Momma, are we gonna be off the ground when we float today?" Jaxson asks around his fingers.

Handing him a spoon, I smile at his mumbled, not-very-sincere apology as he continues shoveling whatever crumbs he can into his mouth. His brother has given up now there's basically nothing left, but not Jaxson. He's nothing if not tenacious to the end.

"Off the ground? What do you mean?"

"You know," he says in a way that tells me he thinks I should know what he's talking about, even though I have no idea. "When we float?"

Oh.

"You mean when you're on the float?"

"Sure, I guess."

"You won't be floating, kiddo. It's called a float because…" Looking at mom, I ask her because I haven't a clue where floats get their name from. "Why are they called 'floats?'"

"Well, don't ask me how I know this because I really can't remember, but I believe they were first introduced in the Middle Ages for a celebration, and they decorated boats and barges on the River Thames, which obviously floated."

Well, that would make sense, I suppose. "Huh. You learn something new every day."

Jaxson frowns. "So we're not gonna float?"

"No, kiddo. You're not going to float. You do get to ride on the big trailer at the front of the parade, though. That's cool, right?"

"Sure." He shoots mom a mischievous grin. "That means I get more cookies, right, Nana?"

"You little ratbag. How did you know I'm baking cookies for your float?" Mom laughs, playfully tapping his cheeks.

"I heard you and Papa talkin' about it last night. I'd prefer chocolate chip, if that's okay with you. They're your best ones."

This kid, I swear. "You'll be lucky if Nana gives you any, speaking to her like that."

Summoning as innocent an expression as he can manage, Jaxson dumps the now-empty mixing bowl on the side and twists to sit on the counter beside it, facing Mom. "Pretty, pretty please, Nana, may I have some chocolate chip cookies?"

If I were Mom, I'd make him sweat a little, but she's too soft. Her faux-serious expression melts quicker than ice cream in summer. "Of course you can, sweetheart. You all can. But first, how about we have this breakfast, which smells delicious, by the way," Mom offers with a wink.

"I helped!" Jaxson puffs his chest out, still sans shirt of course, and grins.

"Well, then I'm sure it will be extra delicious, sweetheart."

Sure enough, when we pile out onto the patio fifteen minutes later with two trays of muffins and a plate of crispy bacon, Dad and Everly are drawn out by the smell of yummy food. Arlo follows shortly afterward, crawling into my lap with a body-shaking yawn and cheeks still lined by his pillow.

I can't help but laugh, running my fingers through his wild mane. "Good sleep, baby?"

"Good," he mumbles, tucking his head under my chin and wriggling his bony butt to get comfy. It's not particularly comfy for me, but I'll never turn away my boys if they ask for cuddles. Never, ever.

By the time I've shared a plate of food with Arlo, he's much more alert. He's also remembered that it's 'parade day,' so his energy levels sky-rocket and I can already tell that wrangling Arlo is going to be my full-time job today.

Well, if anything is going to distract me from Edward's continued ghosting routine and his inevitable presence at the parade, Arlo will be it.

*peeking through fingers* Soooo, that happened. I mean, really, can you blame him for putting on the brakes? He's in a tough spot and as a lot of you have correctly guessed, he's still drowning in grief. There's also Charlie and Renee to consider.

Anyway. Please don't pitchfork me. If you do that, they'll never make it to first base...or second, or third... ;)

As always, huge thanks to my wonderful team of ladies who call me on my bull and point out when I'm being too liberal with my 'it's fiction' excuse. annaharding, LizziePaige, ThatSoAlex, Anakinsmom, and LadyLoonie, I love you all dearly.