Chapter 6:

You're a bit of a procrastinator.

So when you told me you were choosing to go to my grandad's birthday party, the event that was happening in only a few days, I have to say I was a little surprised.

I mean, of course, I'm glad you're going with me. It's just that deep down I was reaaaallllyyyy hoping for some company at what I'm sure is going to be the most dreadfully boring wedding of all time, but alas I suppose I'll have to tough it out solo with the always sober, the unfailingly self-righteous, the...wait for it... Sullen Cullens. That's right…the wedding involves my dad's side of the family and they don't do fun. Like ever.

My step-granddad, better known as Grumps, belongs to my mom. Her parents are divorced so I have another grandfather on her side, too- my Pops. He's the fun one. Grumps is well….grumpy, but in a loveable way.

I grab your hand as we near the front door and link our fingers.

You roll your eyes at my suggestive expression so sure that this is one bet you can't lose.

Hmph. We'll see about that.

As soon as we walk into the foyer you're accosted by my mother, who adores you.

"Bella! So lovely to see you, dear," she says as she pulls you away from me for a hug with one hand, a glass of chardonnay in her other.

"I've missed you," you say, returning her hug. "I'm so glad your book tour is over!"

"You and me both," she groans. "I've had enough of traveling for a while. You would not believe some of the accommodations Diane booked us." My mom is a huge hotel snob, huge. "I swear I've told her time and again how I feel about a basic room service menu. Uninspired bar food? Really? Or even worse -no valet parking. The one we stayed in in Milwaukee was practically a mo-tel."

As Mom rants about her traveling problems, I have to give her some crap. I mean the woman hasn't even acknowledged my presence. "Hey mom. Great to see you, too, mom. Yeah, I know, it's been months since you've seen your baby boy."

"Oh Edward, listen to you carry on," she says, moving around Bella to get to me. "How's my precious? Did you miss mommy?" she grabs my face as she teases me and moves in for a big kiss on the cheek. "Mmmm-mmah."

"And don't be so dramatic. I talked to you every day I was gone."

I smile sheepishly because it's true. I'm a mama's boy. What can I say?

"Now go join the birthday boy in the den," she says as she ushers Bella towards the kitchen. I assume that's where all the ladies are congregating as I can hear the sounds of pans banging around along with my Aunt Sarah's unmistakable laugh through the door. "The guys are all watching the game."

I nod my head at my mom in compliance and decide to test the waters a little further since no one noticed us holding hands earlier. I snake my arm around your waist and give you a kiss on the temple. "Bring me a drink?"

It's not a very bold move but for the sake of believability, I've decided to start small. We left the terms of our bet pretty loose, so I have a lot of leeway. I think you think I don't have the balls to go very far…at least without laughing, but you have no idea how quickly I'm prepared to escalate the PDA should the situation call for it.

After a discrete pat to my hand to indicate you will, you follow my mom, who seems completely unmoved by my little show of affection.

.

Less than ten minutes later, people begin to move out of the kitchen and into the den singing happy birthday with my Nana and a huge cake at the head.

You pass me a drink as Grumps frowns at his cake and all the singing.

I go to take a sip without looking, but stop when I get a whiff of it before it hits my mouth.

I'd know that smell anywhere.

Wine spritzers.

Well, the Bella and Edward version, anyway.

I have to say I'm a bit taken aback by this decision. Spritzers are generally saved for only the most dire of circumstances. Born on a particularly hot July day at a wedding reception that had run out of cold beer, but had plenty of ice, Sprite and unchilled red wine, a spritzer's basic function is to get you giddy-wine-drunk quickly. As long as you get them nice and cold, they go down like water.

Your choice brings about a twofold question. 1. Why are we in a hurry to get wine drunk on a Sunday afternoon? And 2.) Did my grandparents run out of liquor?

The answer to the second question is simple and finite-Impossible.

The answer to the first becomes very clear as I watch more people spill out of the kitchen doorway just as Grumps is about to blow out his candle.

Fuck me sideways.

Mom promised.

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