All main characters belong to Stephanie Meyer; I just enjoy their company.
This wouldn't be here without my dear friend and beta Touchstone 67, thank you for all your encouragement. Remember everybody, all mistakes are hers.
A soft, early morning sun sifted through the curtains of the bedroom. I could feel his warm body beside me. We'd only had the chance to wake in each other's embrace a few times, but it felt like something I'd been doing forever, something I wanted to do forever. Prying one eye open, I used the still of dawn to study him, the stubble coating his jaw, the length of his lashes resting on his cheeks, the shape of his nose and fullness of his lips. As they always did, my eyes drifted downwards, tracing the cords of his neck, shape of his collarbone and over the firmness of his chest. Glancing at his face to make sure he was still asleep, I continued on my path down his exquisite body, the contours of his abdomen and crook of his hip to his cock, thick and semi-erect. My own, already hard, jumped at the sight and a rush of heat hit me as I remembered the night before and the walk in the graveyard.
After we'd returned home, he busied himself in the kitchen making us drinks while I stripped off the outer layers of clothing and sat on the couch. He joined me minutes later, sitting behind me and guiding me back against his chest. We let the silence fall over us, his fingers gently stroking my thigh. When I set my glass down, he lifted me off him and led me upstairs to his bed. Clothing was shed, flesh was touched and lips wandered before we climbed under the blankets. Lying on his side, he secured me to him in his strong arms, his body perfectly moulding to mine like a puzzle piece, one I'd been missing my entire life. We fell asleep like that, his body protective and solid behind mine. At some point during sleep Edward had rolled onto his back, being sure to take me with him, keeping me pressed to his side with one arm around me and the other resting on my hip.
Bringing my thoughts back to the present, I gave his cock a lingering look, before my eyes continued down his long legs interrupted by the Egyptian cotton that tangled around his calves. Careful not to wake him, I slowly eased myself out of bed, missing his warmth the second our bodies separated. Searching through my ruck stack on the floor, I grabbed my toothbrush and tiptoed to the bathroom, glancing at him over my shoulder before closing the door to muffle the sounds. Turning on the faucet, I squeezed his toothpaste onto my toothbrush and stared at the sink as I brushed my teeth, leaving a mint flavour behind. Rinsing the brush off, I left the water running while I used the toilet, then took a deep breath before turning off the faucet. Slowly, I opened the door, peeking out to make sure he was still sleeping soundly before padding back to the bed. I was foolish, I knew once we kissed, he would know I'd been up already, but it was an illusion I wanted to maintain.
Pulling back the duvet, I climbed under it and nestled next to him, laying my head on his chest, his heart beating steadily and loudly under my ear. When I felt his thumb moving back and forth on my lower back, I knew he was waking up and turned my head toward him. His eyes remained closed, but his tongue peeked out to run along his lower lip and his hand descended to cup my ass. His groan rumbled through his chest and I blushed.
There was no 'good morning' or 'how did you sleep', there was just his hands moving me on top of him, my legs falling on either side of his hips as our lips met. Our tongues greeted in lazy swirls, our lips meshing and nibbling. Sure hands freely roamed up and down my back, one weaving into my hair while the other followed the curve of my spine. Between us, his cock hardened and mine throbbed. Shamelessly grinding on him, I tunnelled both hands through his hair, the silky strands sliding through before I urgently fisted for more. Moaning, his hands returned to my ass, spreading and groping while his hips bucked up against my weight. His body shifted under me, his head angling as he blindly reached for the bottle of lube on the bedside table. Never breaking the kiss, he flicked the lid off, and decanted it onto his hand, his slickened fingers quickly finding their way to my ass. His finger rubbed the soft skin in a teasingly slow manner and I pushed down against it. While one hand remained tangled in my hair, his other readied me, his talented fingers sliding in and out of me. Breathless, I lifted my head, finally looking into his open eyes for the first time that morning. Still blinking sleep away, his lids were half closed as he stared back at me. The darkness that constantly circled around their edges had faded into a lighter hue, the emerald replaced by leafy green. Desire filled them and my cheeks flushed under the attention. My shyness brought a slight smile to his lips, but an intensity to his eyes as his entertainment instantly turned needy at the staining of my cheeks.
"More," I pleaded brazenly as I wiggled my ass against his hand.
With a passionate growl, he swiftly flipped us, his weight pressing me into the mattress as he ground his hips, creating a wet friction of his cock against mine. With a slight shift of his weight, his hips settled between my legs and I wrapped one around him. Encouraging him further, I arched my back, pushing my head into the pillow. Edward took advantage of the position, his mouth fusing to my neck, sucking the tender flesh between his teeth as his cock entered me, stretching and filling. Groaning, I moved my hands to his ass, groping the muscles as they clenched with each slow thrust. Curving an arm under my shoulders, his lips continued to feast on my neck and collarbone, eventually making his way back to mouth. In a devouring kiss, broken only by short gasps of breath as his pace instinctively quickened, our tongues met, the sensation of the kiss alone traveling throughout my entire body. Our need took over, hands grasping and tangling, hips pounding and skin slapping. Sweat glistened on his back, his hair clumping to his temple as he lifted his head and stared down at me, his eyes saying what words his lips couldn't form.
He wanted it to last as much as I did.
With effort, he stilled his hips, then placing a hand between me and the mattress, he rolled us over without ever having lost contact. It wasn't a position I was comfortable with. Under him with his body covering mine, I was hidden and protected, but on top I was vulnerable with all my imperfections on display. His large hands danced over my shoulders, down my sides, his fingers lightly grazing the scars on my skin. His grip came to rest on my hips, lifting and lowering me onto his cock, his eyes almost rolling back into his head when mine hips met his, sheathing him completely. Pushing my insecurities aside, I focused on Edward, and everything about him. Lifting my hand, I ran it down his cheek, over his parted lips and square jaw and neck to his shoulders, committing each inch of him to my memory to recall on the lonely nights I knew certain to be ahead of me. Every place I touched, a tremble was left in its wake.
Feeling empowered by his reaction, I rocked my hips, enticing a long moan and his fingertips to burrow into my skin. He was close, his body refusing to hold off no matter how much he strained in effort. Bracing his hand next to him, he pushed himself up until he was sitting with me impaled on him. Our chests were pressed together, our noses touching. Every one of his movements was slow and deliberate. My arms wrapped around his neck, toying with the ends of his hair as I leisurely rode him. Kissing and licking along the pulse in his neck, I inhaled his scent deeply. It was most concentrated there, the most him, not clothing or body wash, but just Edward. His taste was on my tongue, his scent in my lungs, his touch on my fingertips. I didn't want to forget any of it, from the exact colour of his eyes to the smoothness of his skin to the way he felt inside me. Never able to leave them for long, I returned to his lips, full and swollen, and pressed mine to them.
"Touch yourself," he groaned.
Biting my lip, I hesitated. It wasn't something I was comfortable doing, the reasons too complicated to tell him then. He only had to glance at my face to know, maybe not he reasons behind my pause, but enough to know I couldn't do it.
"You don't have to," he murmured understandingly as his hand moved from my hip to my cock.
The second his fingers wrapped around me in a tight fist, my body was on the brink of coming undone. My eyes closed and my body's responses took over, the sensations of sight, sounds and scent too much. A few drags of his hand later and my body tensed, my muscles clenching around him as my cock pulsed, releasing streams of warm come between us. Each stroke of his hand pulled more from my body, the orgasm rocketing through me.
He lasted only a minute longer, a few bucks of his hips hitting deep inside me and marking me with his semen. It was him, it was us together, and I cherished it.
Dropping his head to my shoulder, his heavy breaths washed over my heated skin and I shivered. His embrace around me tightened, and I returned the gesture with my legs and arms. His presence and body surrounded me, and I wanted to take it with me when I left, that moment of intimacy, of bliss and comfort. There were no words, none needed to be said. We both knew what the other was thinking.
If only we could stop time.
"It's late," I mumbled.
His sigh was heavy, resigned, as his lips pressed to my neck before lifting his head. Drowsy, lusty moss eyes looked at me, the effort of the smile he was attempting never making it to his eyes. Instead, I kissed him and then eased myself off him, getting off the bed before I could be convinced to stay in it. I had a daughter, remnants of a life to return to. Following me out of bed, he threw on clothes from the floor while I washed up in the bathroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed when I returned, my clothes sitting next to him. Silently he beckoned me to him, placing me between his parted legs he dressed me, one article of clothing at a time. He took great care with each piece, his hands skimming over my flesh, his eyes tracking the movements. With a longing glance, he buttoned my jeans and then leaned his forehead against my abdomen. My hands found his hair, stroking it to soothe us both.
"Breakfast," he said determinedly, not giving me a chance to refuse.
He led me downstairs to the kitchen where I leaned against the island while he toasted bagels and spread humus on them.
"I'm not hungry," I said in one last attempt to get out of eating when he placed the food in front of me.
"I'm not going to risk you driving off the road," he grumbled.
He watched as I picked at it, hoping with each bite I chewed and swallowed would be enough to satisfy him. After only a few bites, he pushed his aside, letting me know I didn't have to finish mine either. But for him, I did. Smiling, he leaned to me, sweeping his lips over mine in a thank you. After clearing our plates, he went upstairs, returning a minute later with my ruck sack.
"I packed the rest of your things," he said as he placed it on the floor by the door.
He knew how hard it was for me to leave, his ache mirrored my own. It wasn't that I didn't want to return to my daughter, it was being separated from Edward again. It was the exact opposite of the excitement of when I had arrived a few days before.
Standing, I walked to him and melted into his comforting embrace. Fisting his shirt at his waist, I tethered him to me. The goodbye kiss started out innocent, lips pressed together to say what our words couldn't. It turned demanding when he tugged on my bottom lip to ease them apart. Suddenly, hands were clutching at shirts and pants, lips collided with throats and hips grinded.
"You're fucking hot," he groaned as he yanked my jeans down over my ass. "Need you."
His breath was moist against my neck and I pushed back against him. Before he could go further, I bent over and opened the front pocket of my backpack, pulling out a bottle of lube and handing it to him.
"You were keeping that handy," he chuckled as he coated his dick with it.
"It's a long journey home, I might get bored," I joked.
The second our eyes met, the banter was instantly replaced by need. It had only taken a minute to go from a sweet goodbye to his cock slipping into me. I braced myself against the wall, gasping as he thrust into me, urgent for us both to find one last release before parting. Wanton grunts and shameless pleas for more filled the room. In my pocket, my phone alarm buzzed, a tangible reminder of our time running out.
Edward sped up, his hips snapping harder, faster into me. Seconds later, my body tensed, my climax hitting me in powerful surges as my cock throbbed and released. His orgasm crashed over him just as mine began to ebb, his forehead on my shoulder as he caught his breath.
"I wish you didn't have to go," he whispered reverently.
His strong arm around my middle held up my sated, almost limp, body, but when the alarm went off again, he gently pulled up my pants, kissing my skin as he covered it. Once we dressed, Edward picked up my ruck sack and opened the door. With each step, the ache in my chest increased, and I reached for his hand to anchor me.
At my car, he tossed my bag inside before holding the door for me as I got in. Inserting the keys into the ignition, I started the car and rolled down the window. Sitting in the car felt out of place, awkward. I wanted to be inside his house, in his arms, his presence. Bending down, he breached the small space between us and kissed me softly.
"Call me," he murmured against my lips.
When he pulled away, the pad of his thumb ran over my lips, taking effort to move his eyes from them to my own. Hovering on the edges with the desire and love I'd come to recognize was a promise, a vow that he meant it. I wasn't a casual fuck to him, I was more.
We were more.
Nodding, I shifted into reverse and slowly let the clutch out. Edward released me and stood up, watching as I backed out of his driveway. Taking a deep breath, I drove away, his reflection growing smaller in the mirror and my ache grew larger.
We were definitely more.
Xx/ \xX
Arriving back at my apartment almost eight hours later, exhausted and emotional, I missed him already.
But I'd missed my daughter more. I'd missed her inventive ways of waking me, her uncontrollable curly hair, her dimples when she smiled and her impressive ability to make herself dirty in the cleanest of rooms. Every morning I fell in love with her, any and all transgressions from the previous day long forgotten.
I'd been gone three days, three bedtime stories, thirty-six nappy changes, and a hundred questions about the world she lived in. She had asked some brilliant questions in her time, bypassing the standard why is the sky blue questions that media had trained me expect and serving me downright witty ones.
My greatest joy in life became attempting to stump her and get the open mouthed, raised eyebrow expression that signalled I had won the game of 'why?'
"Daddy!" she squealed before both my feet had even crossed the threshold. I caught her as she catapulted herself into my arms, wincing at the strain on my back. I kicked off my shoes en route to the couch and flaked on it, bringing her with me. She screamed as we fell, no real fear present in her eyes, confident I wouldn't let harm come to her.
"I got a truck," she announced, leaning over the couch and presenting me with a fire engine. "It's cool," she continued, running the wheels along my arms and chest.
"It's so cool," I enthused, imitating a siren and taking over, before bringing it to an abrupt halt and extending the ladders.
"Help us, help us, my cats on fire," she yelled, combining the only two incidences she'd heard of involving the fire department.
Perched on the windowsill, the cat hissed at us before leaping from it and prancing off, tail in the air.
Besides the over enthusiasm I always rewarded her with, I'd maintained a no baby talk policy, letting her in to my deepest thoughts from the second I had her, the way spinsters did there cats.
"He said he loved me," I told her, trusting nobody else with his admission.
"Ooooo," she replied, eyes alight with childlike awe. Not understanding the true meaning behind what I was saying.
"You will have to come with me next time, so you can check he's good enough for me."
More like check I'm good enough for him, I thought to myself. We sat comfortably for some time while she listed off her activities, laughing when she crouched close and whispered in my ear that she had pee'd on my flatmate twice during one of the many nappy changes he had endured during my time away, earning her a high five.
"Love dad," she promised me, putting her hand over my heart. A gesture we'd shared all her life.
"Love Pepper" I pledged in return.
For the past six months dinner had been a painful affair, something she dragged out, mouthfuls eaten here and there between chattering and goofing around, but that night was an exception. She ate fast, swallowing the pasta in mouthfuls seemingly too big for her head. She knew that night she would get away with anything and she wasn't about to waste it on dinnertime antics. Before she had finished chewing her last mouthful, she was climbing down, sticking her bum into the air while she skilfully descended, then tugging on my sleeve and ordering me to follow her. I would, tomorrow would be a different story but that night I would entertain her every whim.
"Pyjamas first, then we can do whatever you want," I told her, going to my bedroom to put mine on too, as I always did to convince her she should.
"Stories," she demanded, pointing across the room at her bookcase before flopping onto the floor, scrunching up her blanket and using it as a pillow. I obeyed, sitting cross-legged in front of her, reading one after another. Eagerly following in my kooky footsteps, "The twits" by Roald Dahl had soon become her firm favourite. Knowing every line, I read quickly while she laughed and finished my sentences. It was toward the end of the book that inspiration struck her.
She bolted upright and crawled over to her doll's house, flinging her arm behind her she beckoned me forward. I crawled toward her, kneeling at her side.
"Upside down," she begged, her eyes glinting and a mischievous grin spreading across her face.
Not stopping to consider if it was a wise decision to encourage her wicked streak, I basked in her creativity.
"You get the glue, I will get the scissors," I said, directing her with my hands like a military recon mission.
Shrieking with delight at my cooperation, she scrambled over to her art desk, a miniature version of the one I had cherished as a teen, and lifted the lid, pulling out a children's glue stick and my hot glue gun. Handing me the gun she fell back to her knees. I plugged it in and pretended to pull back the barrel and load the imaginary bullet into the firing chamber.
"Let's do this," I dramatized, taking the safety off and squeezing the trigger. A spurt of hot glue pulling giggles from her belly.
Piece by piece we took the beautiful contents of the doll's house, the exquisite handcrafted furniture and embellishments, and sacrificed them to our inside joke. Turning them upside down and recreating rooms on the ceiling.
By the time we were fastening cutlery to the dining room table the excitable energy had drained and her head was lolling onto my shoulder.
"Time for bed," I whispered kissing her hair. I flipped the switch on the plug socket and lifted her as I stood, to a chorus of protests.
She was asleep before her head hit the pillow. I tucked her in, enjoying the moment's peace I had before it was overshadowed by loneliness.
Without her to entertain and play with, I was left alone with my thoughts, the ache in my chest that smothered me whenever he was absent.
In need of a shower after a long day, I grabbed a towel from the airing cupboard and headed into the bathroom, stripping off items of clothing as I went, leaving my shirt draped over the banister and my pyjama bottoms in the hallway. I laid my towel down on the floor in preparation and grabbed my toothbrush from the holder, thoroughly brushing as I searched the cupboards for body wash. Returning the toothbrush to the holder and spitting out the mouthwash I had been swilling while I ran a hand under my jaw debating on shaving now or shaving in the morning. I stretched my arms above my head, satisfied with the stiffness that would soon be relieved by the hot spray of the shower.
I pulled the string of the shower by the door and then stepped into the bath tub. Annoyed when the water didn't start, I turned the dials on the front cover, repeatedly pressing the on/off button before fiddling with the hose and thermostat, not yet ready to believe that it was broken.
Once I had come to terms with the passing of my shower, I sat on the edge of the tub, resigned to the fact that it was now my only option. I stroked the cold cast iron rim anxiously, unnerved by how uneasy it made me feel, baths were great, weren't they? I'd just been taking showers for so long that I had forgotten.
Turning the taps, I held my forefingers in the stream of water and waited for it to turn hot, then secured the plug and sat back on the edge to watch. The heavy sounds and steam did nothing to ease my confusion, and I lost myself in the rippling shadows the water cast, seeing nothing else but its constantly disrupted rhythm, pushed to and fro by the pounding water, happily going along with it.
A stray thought about how long I'd been there and how high the water had risen caught my attention and snapped me out of my trance like state and I refocused on the rapidly filling tub. Shutting off the water and testing the heat with my elbow like I did for Pepper before each of her baths. The water was too hot but not scolding and I knew I would appreciate the burn more than the time and effort expended by draining some of the water and refilling with cold.
I turned around on the ledge and let my feet get used to it, raising them a few times until my skin adjusted to the temperature. Once my feet were acquainted, I forgot it might take the rest of my body a little longer and sank into the water, my lower half completely covered.
I bent my knees and folded them in to submerge my top half until my ears were underneath the water. There was a groan in the pipes and it reverberated around the tub, bouncing off the cast iron, both magnified and dulled by the water. They were sounds I hadn't heard in years. I closed my eyes to concentrate and forgot the confusing uneasy feeling that had me on my guard. Leaving me susceptible to its cause then it hit me, memories washing over me in waves that matched the ripples of the water.
My mother's fingers carded through my hair while she repeatedly filled a plastic jug with water, then forming a visor with her hand to protect my eyes, she poured it over my head. Washing out the shampoo, she had massaged in. Taking my eyes from the array of bubbles, I looked up at her through wet eyelashes. She had such a pretty face and beautiful hair, caring hands and words, but her smiles never reached her eyes and her hands never reached out to protect me. I never wanted to see her hurt, I never wanted to see her cry, my instinct was to protect her, but it was an instinct she sadly did not share beyond keeping stinging water from my eyes. When it counted most, she was distant.
The bottom step of the stairs creaked and she pulled away like I had stung her. The creak was followed by twenty-six thuds signalling the ascent of my father. As he drew closer, I curled further into myself, my chin meeting my knees, hoping I wouldn't be the target he sought that time.
"Get out," he commanded, his words directed at my mother, who swiftly exited, taking the warmth from the room with her. With his back turned from me, I watched him, taking note of every twitch and measuring the distance between him and the door. I was trapped.
His head titled to the side and I caught a stray smile spread across his face in the bathroom mirror, before he turned, the smile erased and anger raged in his eyes. He crouched at the side of the bath and reached out to hold my jaw, ensuring he had my attention.
"Did you think I wouldn't find out," he breathed, his voice taking on a silky quality that always meant danger.
When I didn't reply, he tightened his grip and shook me. I scoured my brain trying to think what I had done wrong, which foot I'd set out of line, which rule I had broken.
When I found nothing and was confident I hadn't, I replied.
"I didn't do anything," I said, my words starting out strong but breaking and reducing to a whisper when his eyes narrowed.
He stood up, bending over the tub and pulling my legs out from underneath me, forced my head under the water. Water filled my nose and mouth as my hands shot to my jaw to pull him away, using all my strength to pull and kick and struggle my way out of his grasp but feeling nothing but the hard surface of bath, the pressure of his hand and the tightening in my chest as I inhaled the water.
Minutes that seemed like hours passed and I stopped struggling, certain it wasn't getting me anywhere and content for it to be the end. The second my body stilled, he dredged me from the water, leaving me to cough and splutter choking up the water I'd swallowed. He left the room without another word, closing the door behind him and I pulled my knees back in to my chest.
I sat for hours, shivering in water that had long cooled, the tears falling down my cheeks providing a warm sensation for my body to focus on and feed off of. The door had opened and a gasp had escaped my sister's lips before I could even raise my eyes to check who stood there.
"Jasper," she breathed, staring at me for a few seconds before grabbing a towel from by the sink and pulling me from the bath. Once we were on the bathroom floor, she wrapped her arms around me, rubbing my arms to get me warm.
"Sorry I left you here," she mumbled her unnecessary, but heartfelt apology, and I nodded once in reply, not yet able to speak.
"Do you want me to put you to bed tonight?" she asked, running her fingers through my now dry and tangled hair. I nodded once more in the affirmative and let her carry me to bed.
At some point during my thoughts I'd sunk under the water but could stay under no longer and came up gasping for air, my heart pounding and my head clear. I hooked my feet around the bath plug chain and pulled it lose, the water draining around me as I stood. I wrapped my lower half in a towel and stumbled into my bedroom.
Grabbing my phone I dialled, my head still pounding and my breaths escaping in pants.
"Hey love," he greeted sleepily. "Are you okay?"
I exhaled, a mixture of pain and relief washing over me at the same time and burst into tears.
"Shhh," he soothed over the phone in a whispered tone. "Take a deep breath and talk to me"
"I can't," I mumbled back feebly.
"Yes you can, darling heart, one deep breath and the worst of it will subside."
Complying I drank in air, filling my lungs and clearing my head. He talked to me in a low murmur telling me a story until I calmed.
"I miss you," I admitted.
"I'm right here," he assured. "Three hundred and sixty miles between us, but with you, nobody else."
"Nobody else," I echoed, looking around at the dark silence of the apartment and sighing.
I dried off while we talked, pulling on some boxer briefs and slipping between my sheets. As I settled my head on my stiff pillow, I thought about how much I missed his house, the warmth that radiated from under his flooring and the texture of his expensive sheets, especially the duck feather pillows.
I lay on my side, closing my eyes and listening to his voice, behind my lids I could see him right there beside me. I breathed in trying to inhale his scent from the memories I'd stored.
"What are you wearing?" he asked me, his voice lowering to a gruffer tone.
I smiled at the mental image of him waggling his eyebrows at me, eyes glinting with desire.
"Nothing," I lied automatically.
He knew I was fibbing, he knew that my daughter woke me every morning and no matter how tired I was, I would put something on.
He laughed softly, "Underwear or pyjama bottoms?" he asked knowingly.
"Underwear," I confided.
"Pyjama bottoms," he returned.
Images of him padding around his bedroom in his thin pyjama bottoms, his feet and torso bare and his hair mussed, his cock clearly visible through his pants assaulted me. The memories faded too soon and I clutched at the wisps as they faded
"Talk to me?" I asked.
He caught my drift, that our connection still intact even with hundreds of miles between us was a great comfort. He knew what I wanted, what I needed to hear.
"Do you want me to kiss you?" he asked without hesitation. "Warm breath and soft lips meshing, tongue sliding across your lips, pushing in to your mouth to rub against yours."
While his confidence shined on the phone, mine shied but it didn't mean I didn't enjoy every word, imagine all every detail and grow harder with each image.
"Pull you closer, heated skin touching, sucking the skin on your neck press my dick against your hip," he continued without prompting.
I moaned in encouragement and heard him moving on the line, gasping as he pleasured himself.
Rolling onto my front, I humped the mattress, reasoning that it didn't count if I wasn't using my hand to masturbate.
It was something I'd been conditioned to avoid completely, but with him on the other end of the line it felt different. It wasn't the all-consuming thick protection I felt in his presence, but it was still there, a veil of mutual love and respect that formed a barrier between me and my insecurities. The veil stopped it from feeling cheap or sleazy, it was as much making love as when he took me by the hand, led me to his room and laid me down in his bed.
"I want to be inside you, fill you, love you," he murmured his hand audibly moving faster as he continued, "Your ass feels fucking good."
Perfectly balancing the sweet and slow with fast and dirty, they met in the middle in perfect harmony sending me rocketing towards my orgasm.
"I'm coming, Edward," I moaned, finally finding my voice as I pressed my hips into the mattress and came, the soaring pleasure he always provided rocking through my body.
He groaned as he listened to me coming, telling me how hot I was before catching up and grunting with finality.
We talked a while longer as we cleaned up but we were sated and relaxed and we quickly started to drift. He fell asleep first, snoring softly. I could almost convince myself he was right beside me, right under me, my brain tried as hard as it could, but there was no fooling my heart, it longed for its companion beating steadily under my ear. I clenched my eyes and fought the thoughts until they receded and let me fall asleep.
I woke hours later with the phone still pressed to my ear. Edward must have woken in the night too and ended the call because the line had gone dead. I looked out the window and watched the light of early morning filter through the blinds, my mind relentlessly torturing me with vivid images of him asleep at my side. Glancing at the clock I sighed, 5:59, it would be seconds before she came in, moments before I had to remove any signs of heartache and be a half decent parent.
The clock ticked and right on cue the door that I'd left ajar squeaked open and a soft pitter-patter made its way across to my bed. Gripping the sheets, she pulled herself up and flopped at my side, tucking herself in to me and sighing contentedly. Bending my arm back, I stroked her silky hair and asked her what she wanted to do with the day.
"Everything," she answered thoughtfully and I laughed.
"Okay," I agreed, putting my hand out in front of her, she placed hers on top before we made them explode. "Let's do everything."
And we did, we filled the next few months with everything we could, sledding and walks in the snow, movies and curling up next to the heater, art lessons, baking and board games. To her it was merely a good winter, but to me it was a well needed distraction, a distraction from the ache that lurked, threatening to encroach on every quiet moment.
Edward and I spoke on the phone every night, saying how our days had been, how we missed each other, how we would touch if we were together. Murmurs of missing one another quickly turned into breathless desire as we chased our orgasms.
December 28th soon rolled around and as it loomed, I thought back to the last Christmas we'd celebrated with any resemblance of tradition, the year before last we pulled crackers, gorged ourselves on food, sang carols, and decorated the cramped room we gathered in.
We'd built a perfect façade of holiday cheer, it was perfect in all ways except the location and the situation. We'd done all these things at my sister's bedside as she slowly passed away. My dear sister, my best friend and fellow comrade, lay next to her baby, her perfect mirror at her side, tiny and incapable of understanding that they were sharing in both a first and a last.
We'd given each other the best gifts we ever would, the best gifts anyone ever could. She had given me custody of her daughter, my niece, and I'd given her promise to get the hell out, move away from home, keeping her precious baby far from the pain we'd endured, a world away from her grandparents.
Then as the New Year celebrations lit the sky, I'd watched the light leave her eyes and her essence leave her body. She was gone, and I was a father. Completely unequipped and scared, but we'd survived, just like all first timers did, learning on the job.
The next year we didn't celebrate Christmas, we ignored the holiday, refusing to pay it notice. Instead we visited her grave, Pepper bundled safe and warm in her stroller, and lay flowers against her mother's headstone, informing her of all she was missing, all we missed of her.
This year I was determined would be different. I wanted my little girl's whole life to be different, so different from mine. Like her first and last Christmas she shared at her mother's side, we pulled crackers, ate, sang, opened presents and played.
At the end of the day when she fell asleep, I carried her to bed, rewarding myself for holding it together, proud I made it so far into a time that represented grief and not merriment for me.
I knew it couldn't be that simple though, I knew January 1st was waiting around the corner, to spring out and devour me, to crush me once more.
Time wasn't merciful, just as it hadn't been when I'd been with Edward, it didn't freeze and put off the inevitable.
On New Year's Eve, we visited her grave in the early hours, while the majority of the surroundings lay still around us. I spoke to her as I always had when her heart was beating, confiding in her my thoughts and fears.
There was something mercifully holding back the floodgates, a thought that preoccupied me and prevented me from sliding into depression.
I hadn't had a single text from Edward for almost a full day. I had a sinking feeling something bad was about to happen, that his interest had tailed off. It was an awful feeling, but it balanced my other awfully feelings perfectly, stopping either from taking hold for long enough. I toyed with my brain, effortlessly switching from one trouble to another. Sensing my unease Pepper became restless, crying with each thing that went wrong. She didn't know what the day was, she wasn't old enough to feel the impact of the anniversary, but her mind was in tune with mine, it reacted to my disquiet and she became overly sensitive, straining the simple tasks we carried out through the day.
That night she fell asleep on the sofa with me, knowing somewhere inside her that I not ought to be alone. I watched the celebrations on the TV with the sound off. I sat back against the sofa and imagined how Edward would count down to the New Year surrounded by family and friends, with those he loved. The itch that told me I wasn't one of them was ever present in my thoughts ached at that image. Sighing discontentedly at my phone as it revealed no new messages, I stopped fighting the closing of my lids and fell asleep long before midnight.
A knock at the door woke me, and I wondered idly what time it was, it was still dark out, but it was winter, wasn't it always dark? Careful not to wake Pepper, I slipped out from behind her and made my way to the door.
Not bothering to look through the peephole, I swung it wide open, squinting until my eyes adjusted.
There he was.
Edward.
Smiling sheepishly and raising his phone towards the sky.
"The reception out here is awful," he complained, his greeting
"You're here," I stammered.
"I am," he confirmed.
"How?" I asked. "Why?"
"Ferry and a really long drive…and to count down to the new year with you," he added, answering both of my questions.
My mouth was still open and unable to formulate words yet I followed the path of his hand as it reached out to me. I took it unquestioningly as he pulled me out of the front door. Lifting me slightly, he held me close and lowered me on to his feet, sparing me the cold snow that piled on the doorstep.
He gestured to the TV through the door and I painfully dragged my gaze from his eyes and turned my head to face it in time to see the countdown flash on screen.
When it got to five, Edward joined in, his whispers warming my face.
"3…2…1," we finished together, lips meeting repeatedly as we greeted a new year.
A new life.
