Eighteen

I'm nurse Rose - and not in the sexy sense. Despite how much Emmett wishes that I would be.

Every time he moves I'm watching him like a hawk. As if he'll run out the door and toward danger again. If he winces, if he hisses or if he simply moves his hand toward the wounds I'm across the room, making a fuss.

"Baby, I'm fine," he sighs, "you're not the nurse I ordered. What happened to the costume I got? Amazon said next day delivery."

"I hid it," I tuck his blanket up around his shoulders, "the doctor said you aren't allowed to walk around. How on earth would you be allowed to have sex."

"That would make it even more fun. Rule breaking is hot," he untucks his arms proving some stupid point.

"Em," I scowl at him.

"My tongue wasn't shot," he mutters, "neither was my dick."

"It will be in a minute," I smack his arm gently, "will you just focus on getting better."

He'd been out of hospital for a few days and since I've caught him trying to act like he doesn't have healing gunshot wounds several times.

"One day I'll knock you up. You'll give birth and be super sore and I'll have my revenge," He grumbles.

"Not any day soon because you have a sex ban," I poke his nose smiling as I return to my own lounge across from his.

"You better run when it's lifted, girlfriend," his eyes narrow at me.

I poke my tongue out at him, turning to grab for the remote so we can resume the movie. It's some Marvel movie he insisted we watch - obviously sick of the chick flicks. He likely wanted to even our playing field.

"Hey," he stops me, "I was thinking. Why don't you move in here?"

I look at him, raise an eyebrow. It was random but I can tell he's been thinking about it for a while. Waiting to ask.

"Here?" I look around his apartment.

It was nice. It lacked a feminine touch. His dishes struggled to find the dishwasher on a good day and socks were often kicked under the lounge. He was a typical man who never left the frat boy stage of life.

While Esme had designed apartments for both her daughter and son, she'd refused to help Emmett insisting he'd 'grub it up' again.

But perhaps there's a world where I could sneak a few cushions and candles past him. A soft pink throw for his couch.

"What?" he smirks at me.

"Just thinking about how I could add a Rosalie touch," I look back at him.

"You can do whatever you like to it. I'll give you the entire wardrobe," he shrugs, "I've liked having you here and when you've dropped home I've instantly wanted you to come back. I think you should move in. I could move to your place. But here you wouldn't need to rent. I own it."

I bite my lip. I'd need to find a new roommate anyway. Bella had already started to move out her things to live with Edward and I'll soon be alone. My aunty would insist I find someone. I hate being alone.

"Okay," I nod, "on one condition."

"Name your price, Rosie bear," he smiles.

"It's more than one. But, I need a space to paint," I say.

"You can take the spare room. It overlooks the city," he nods, "next?"

"We must invite your family around for game night or dinner at least once a month," I use my fingers to help me list off the conditions.

"Done," he nods.

"And you have to keep your career," I look at him.

He watches me quietly, assessing me with an air of confusion.

"I thought about it. You love your job and you've worked so hard to get to this point," I move toward him again, kneeling down beside him on the floor so I can lean into his face while I speak, "If I forced you to quit you'd resent me. I don't want that at all. I want you to take pride in each day and you do that via this job. So I want you to keep doing it, but I want you to take care and ensure you come home to me each day."

"Nothing could ever keep me away from you," he tugs me down to press a kiss to his lips, "I love you so much."

"I love you more," I grin, "roomie."

"Roomie," he chuckles, "I think we're past that relationship status. You're my fiance."

"Oh I forgot," I gasp, "I got you something."

Standing I race to my handbag, digging through until I land on what I need. Returning to him I dump the Tiffany blue bag onto his lap, smiling at him.

"You're kidding," he laughs, a slight wince on his face as he does it.

"Don't laugh," I smile taking a seat on the edge of the couch, at the space by his hip.

"You got me Tiffany," he pulls at the ribbon opening the bag.

"You need to start adding the 's' or 'and co' to that word. It sounds as if I've gotten you a threesome," I scoff.

"Never. I don't want to share you," he reaches his hand in and pulls out two boxes, "you didn't need to do this. I was kidding around."

"Open it," I nod at them.

Thankfully he opens the right box first. Inside a ring pop (blueberry flavour) sits proudly. It's his favourite kind.

"You're too cute," he laughs, taking it out to pop it into his mouth, "thanks babe."

"That's the temporary one," I motion to the other box.

With the candy in his mouth he places the empty box down to open the other. He takes the sucker from his mouth so it can freely drop.

"Marry me?" I grin.

He glances up at me.

"You got me an actual engagement ring?" He looks at me in a stunned shock.

"Tiffany's has a men's line," I grin.

I'd gotten it in asphalt black, a thin gold strip around the centre of the ring. It's stunning. I wanted him to be mine properly.

"I'm meant to give you one," he shakes his head, "I was going to go get you one the minute you stopped being such a hard ass nurse and let me out of this apartment."

"Hey," I laugh, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Rose, this is amazing. It's my style and it's perfect. I can't believe you did this," he takes it out of the box, "I'll look like my dad wearing men's jewellery."

I laugh and take it from his hand. Carlisle wore rings alongside his wedding ring that sang rich man. The boys constantly gave him grief for it. It made him look like a sexy Johnny Depp.

"You look like my fiancé," I slip the ring onto his finger, before leaning forward to kiss his palm, "the greatest art I've ever seen."

Taking my face in his hands, he tugs me toward him, kissing me deeply. I consider letting him break those rules, but he pulls back to wince when I reach for the waistband of his pants.

"I didn't mean that," he shakes his head.

"When you're better," I whisper, "I promise."

"They were all refused bail," Emmett sits up, feet on his coffee table, his back against my rose patterned cushion, "the prosecutors are absolute machines."

I'd moved most of my stuff in already. Emmett had ordered moving trucks from the couch.

Today he was able to sit up and move around a little more than he has been able to. He's been wearing his ring since I got it for him last week. Every time I catch sight of it I smile like an idiot.

"Can they use any of the stuff Edward found?" I ask.

"It wasn't found legally," he shakes his head, "they're arguing Cassie gave it away by mentioning the boat trip so much to Edward."

"What about everything you gathered on her while you were her fake baby daddy," I flop down into the seat beside him.

"They've got everything. They'll be put away baby I promise," he takes my hand, "they're crooks and they got caught."

"If they don't?" I ask.

"I send them your way to fix them up," he nudges me.

"I'd kick Cassie's ass," I grumble.

"I'd let you," he laughs.

"Have you spoken to them?" I ask him.

"Not really. It's with the lawyers now. My job is to catch them. The rest is with the law. But the prosecutor mentioned they weren't too happy with me," he shrugs, "Cassie still refers to me as her fiancé. Refusing to admit the baby isn't mine. She told the judge she wants child support."

"Seriously?" I cough.

"She's got to prove it's mine," he takes my hand, "which we will fail to do. The media has already latched onto the story. A reporter reached out to me today. I can't obviously comment but their lives are ruined either way."

And as for our lives. They were finally merging together.

Thank you x