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Although Bella had only taken a few small bites, she complimented Esme endlessly on her delicious scones. Edward's mother smiled, looking very much like her son.
"I can give you the recipe if you like," she offered.
They were sitting on the Cullens' big sofa after tea, while the men – and Vera – had gathered around the TV, watching Arsenal vs. Chelsea.
Every now and again, Bella's eyes drifted to the small group, her heart swelling with affection. They'd been together for more than three months, but every day, she realized there were so many things about Edward she didn't know. Like the fact that he liked to watch football.
Rosalie had been sitting with them, but she'd excused herself to make a phone call, so Bella and Esme were alone. It wasn't that Bella was intimidated by Edward's mum, she was much too genuinely friendly and welcoming for that, but she was slightly in awe. After all, Esme Platt had been a world famous opera singer even before Bella was born.
She smiled back.
"That would be perfect. I'd love to make some for Edward. You know what a glutton he is."
"I do." Esme fondly rolled her eyes. "And I know that I neglected to teach the poor boy anything about cooking, let alone baking."
"Oh, I've been giving him some lessons," Bella mentioned, and blushed immediately.
Their last "lesson" had ended with Edward bending her over the counter in his kitchen, satisfying her so thoroughly that her legs had been rubber afterwards, and he had carried her to his bedroom.
Happily, Esme either didn't notice or didn't show that she did, and just then, a couple of cheers from the men and Vera distracted them.
"What a bum!" Emmett shouted. "It clearly was offside!"
Excited discussions followed and both women looked over to where everyone was yelling at the referee. Carlisle had gotten them a round of beers, but Bella was glad to see that Edward was sticking to his herbal tea.
Since the opening of his art show, he'd not had a single drink. They hadn't spoken about it, but she knew it was important to him. A couple of times, she'd offered him a glass of wine when he'd been at her place, but he had declined.
He was more relaxed, his beautiful green eyes were clear and serene, and he looked altogether healthier. The dark shadows under his eyes were gone, as was the extreme pallor. He had filled out a bit, but that might just as well be attributed to Bella's cooking.
"He looks so happy," Esme's voice found her in her musings.
She had moved a little closer to Bella, her tone warm and almost confidential.
"He does," Bella echoed.
"He was unhappy for such a long time," Esme said softly. "Really, really unhappy."
Bella looked up into her eyes. The same green as Edward's, they were filled with tenderness and affection. She placed her hand on Bella's arm.
"And now that you are in his life, he's not. He's himself again."
Bella swallowed.
"I love him," she said softly.
"I know," Esme replied, her eyes slightly watery while her smile grew. "You're good for each other, I guess."
Bella smiled. She couldn't pinpoint it, but Esme seemed to be able to read her.
.
It was only later, hours later, when Bella was in between that susceptible half-state between waking and sleeping, Edward's breathing low and even against the back of her neck, that she realized Esme had not urged her to eat more cake, or more scones, or more anything. And Bella smiled.
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