I love you guys. All of you. You're fucking awesome.

I'm watching 'Little Ashes' as I read this, and honestly, it doesn't turn me off. At all. Although Rob does look a little too clean for my taste. I love the scruff.

A special thanks to LeydyLaura for posting my story on Robsterbation. You're fucking awesome.

And I know it feels too complicated and drawn out sometimes, I'm the author, and I just want them to kiss and love and be happy already too! But honestly, that just isn't Edward and Bella. We don't have four Twilight books because their relationship was easy. So yeah. But it will be worth the wait, that I promise.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. I own Bella's art studio.

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"Bella, quit arguing with me. You're wearing it."

I stared at the dress in disbelief.

"God, Alice, it's just…not me."

"I know, I know. You'd wear chucks and ripped jeans and be happy. But this is your opening, and it's formal dress. And Carlisle has been spreading the word to his colleague's and friends down here who are art freaks. You can bet it's going to be full of rich old ladies who think your work is 'jusss deliiiiightful darrrrleeeenggg'. Now, get dressed."

I was staring at a black silk (Alice really liked the black silk on me) knee length, empire waist dress, with a flower lace patter coverlet. It was gathered at my boobs, and it had thin straps. It was beautiful…but just…girly. And fancy. And silky. Eee.

She handed me black heels to go with it, while I internally screamed protests.

I nodded in mock agreement, but as soon as she left, I pulled out my old chucks from underneath the bed. I had artistic license.

I slipped the dress on, and went to look at myself in the full length mirror. It was amazing, of course. It fit my figure perfectly, making my full chest a bit fuller. My hair was curled, by Rose, and Alice had done the smoky eyes again because that was how I liked them.

It truly made me look beautiful, even though inside I definitely felt less than that.

After the shower, after my apology. Things had been…tense, for lack of a better word. I was still hanging with Edward, but now, every time we were together, it felt like there was something he wanted to say, and he wouldn't say it.

And that was pissing me off.

I still loved him of course, and now that I knew it, it was even easier to spot the signs. I couldn't stop looking at him, I felt a flutter in my whole body when I saw him, when he frustrated me and just smiled and it was all better.

Even if he didn't feel the same.

And I was too chicken shit to find out anymore.

I ran a hand through my hair in frustration, then felt a surge of panic when I realized I had probably fucked it up.

There was a soft knock on the door. Fuck, please don't let it be Alice.

"Bella?"

Edward.

"Come in," I called, wondering why he was knocking.

I saw the sex hair first, then his face peeked in the door, looking surprisingly timid.

"Just making sure you weren't naked."

I scoffed. "Like it matters."

He grinned at me, sitting back on my bed, and tugging at the lapel on his tux.

"A tux Edward? James Bond much?"

"Alice, and quote, 'wants me to fit in.' whatever fitting in is."

I gestured to myself.

He looked from my hair (lusty eyes) to my make up, (he licked his lips) , my dress(more lust) then my shoes(a raised eyebrow and a snort.)

I spun slowly. "You like?"

"Does Alice like?"

I turned to the mirror, trying to hide my nerves with a steeled chin. "It's my opening. She won't care."

"You're hoping she won't care."

"Exactly."

He let out a sigh and hopped up from the bed.

His eyes were smoldering, and a little bit hard to look at. He was so hot, and I didn't care that I sounded like a horny teenage girl. There was no romanticizing the shallow part of me.

Edward was hot. And fuckworthy.

And yummy.

He gave me my now favorite deformed crooked grin, and went to pluck a curl carefully between his forefinger and thumb.

"I like the curls. But I wish Alice would have left you natural. I prefer you the way you are: beautiful."

I quirked an eyebrow, trying to hide the little happy dance going on in my stomach, at the same time that a little man with cleats was tapping over my heart.

"So I don't look beautiful now?"

"Of course you do. You always do. But why cover up such a pretty face?"

He brushed a light kiss on my cheek, now just a little bit to the east Edward, and smoothed my hair back.

A brief, serious look on his face, and he shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of a thought.

"I, um- I have to leave early. Dropping some things off at the office, and making sure I have leave for New York. But I'll see you at the gallery?"

I nodded wordlessly, turning to look in the mirror, watching his reflection leave.

I hated him doing that to me. Saying things like how beautiful I was, having these little bantering conversations that made us seem so normal, like a happy couple, when the only one actively in this relationship was me, because he didn't know it existed.

It fucking sucks.

I hated that I let him make me feel like the most special girl in the word when he said little things. I hated how I felt when he would touch me, even in the most innocent ways.

And I hated that it bothered me that he hadn't kissed me. And that he didn't love me.

And that I was an idiot for loving him.

No crying Bella, I told my self as I looked in the mirror.

It's your night.

I had no idea just how much it was going to be my night.

***

Pulling up to the gallery, I put this moment in my life at number four on my list of important and nerve wracking things in my life.

I had been thinking so much about Edward, and Jacob, and this and that, and revelations, blah, blah, that when the moment came to step inside my gallery where all my work from some of the most important periods of my life was displayed for people to judge, well :all the nerves that where supposed to be coming to me for weeks up until now hit me at once.

All at once. My heart started racing, the adrenaline was pumping, my palms were sweaty, my mouth got dry, and my knees buckled.

"I- I can't go in there Alice." I whispered dryly.

"Of course you can. It's not locked silly." Alice shoved me out of the car.

"Alice. I can't do this."

She rolled her eyes and began pulling me towards the door.

"What if they make fun of me? What if they hate my work?"

She stopped and looked me dead in the face.

"Bella. This-" she was pointing to my lit studio, inside which I could see various people moving about. It was quite full. Fuck. "This, is the reason you came here. To get your shit noticed. And now it's your chance. Don't you start chickening out. You can do this. You have talent, and you need confidence." She gave me a shove towards the door.

"Go."

All I need were those little words from Alice.

I faced my fears. I marched my ass right up to the studio door and walked in.

Alice had been right. Full of rich old men and ladies dressed to the nines, almost all with some surgical enhancement, botoxed expressions, talking about my pieces in airy, drawling, high class gab that sounded practiced enough so it was just the right amount of bitch and nonchalant.

I was awe struck for a moment.

Alice pushed me forward.

"Go mingle."

I swallowed down my nerves with a small pep talk and began walking around slowly, observing people and their reactions. Waiters in black tuxes floated around the room with flutes of champagne ( I'll take two of those, thankyouverymuch) and appetizers on sterling silver trays. Light, airy new age music flitted through the room, and the vibes were altogether good.

Alice had gone all out. It was good. It felt good. It felt good to be me today.

I eavesdropped on some aristocrat's conversations. An old lady told her husband she thought 'the hue of orange in this painting would go just positively smashing in the second dining room.'

I grinned.

A man studied my 'Forest One' in interest, before turning to his lady (who looked about twenty years younger) and asking her if this would be a good gift for his daughter. The woman nodded in earnest.

Another grin.

I was walking by people, admiring my work myself at times, just smiling, feeling that I had worked hard, why not admire it?

A very old woman, fake blonde, with comically arched eyebrows stopped me suddenly.

"My dear, are you the artist of this wondrous portrait?"

"Um- yeah. I am." She was referring to "A night sky in Phoenix."

"Now, I would rather not go through all the auction, bidding, whatnot-" she waved her arm that was dripping in jewelry dismissively, while batting her eyelashes.

Her voice lowered to a whisper. "I would gladly give five thousand to take this home right now."

My jaw dropped. Five thousand? For my work? Holy shit.

I mean, it was my favorite painting, but still.

"Dear? As I was saying, I really wouldn't want any competition for this, and I heard Martha Elroy talking about this and it would positively sink her feathers to see me with it in my foyer!"

I struggled to find some words. Five thousand to make another old woman jealous? These truly were blue blooded, rich, crazy old ladies.

"If you feel so strongly about it, then I suppose you- you could."

"Ah, my dear, Carlisle was right. You are positively lovely. Now, should I pay you directly? I have my checkbook, and I'd really enjoy walking out with this tonight."

I nodded dumbly.

"Who should I make it out to?"

"Isabella Swan," I said, finally finding my business sense, my tongue finally worked right. I needed to gain composure if I was going to be dealing with the likes of these.

She handed me the check. Five thousand fucking dollars.

"Now, I'll just call Elmer to help me. Can I take it off the wall here darling?" I smiled and gestured her onward. "Now, to decide of this will go in the Cabo condo or the New York penthouse?" she muttered to herself as I walked away, saying good bye to my earliest and favorite painting for five thousand dollars.

This was not fucking possible. How could I have this much luck tonight? God, thank you Carlisle and Esme.

I couldn't believe so much money for my art, and I was new in this world. Brand spanking new.

I walked over to look at the silent auction sheet and my jaw dropped. These people were locked in a power struggle over their place in society on paper. The amounts of money… god.

I needed to get away from the idea of money before I hyperventilated.

I found myself instantly gravitating towards the south corner of the gallery, right up to my newest piece.

Green Eyed Reflection.

I found myself instantly lost in the sentiment it held to me as I looked at my Edward painting. No use in not admitting it to myself. It was Edward.

Speaking of Edward, where was he?

"Beautiful painting." A velvety voice breathed beside me. I jumped, turning to look at the source of the feminine whisper.

Not Edward.

A slight woman stood next to me. She wore a green dress over her tiny frame. Her gaze was fixed on the painting, and I could only see her profile. Her brow was furrowed, but her mouth was tilted up in a smile.

I smiled at her, examining only the side of her face, and she still didn't turn to face me. Her head tilted downward.

"You're the artiste aren't you?" She pronounced artiste with a slight French accent.

I cocked my head, trying not to let my suspicion seep into my tone. "How'd you know?"

"The shoes, my dear." not a hint of humor in her weary voice. She sounded so tired. Her attention turned back to the painting.

I got the strangest sense of avoidance from her. She wouldn't look me in the eyes.

I realized she was probably uncomfortable with me staring at her.

I turned to look at my work, focusing on the green eyes staring back at me.

Her pale fingers stretched out tentatively to trace the jaw line of Edward in the painting. I didn't stop her. It was done with a wondering, with a tenderness, that I don't think I could've if I tried.

"You love this man." Statement, not a question. I could see her looking at me full on from my peripheral vision.

Now it was her turn to stare at me. I kept my eyes on Edward's.

There was a part of me that wanted to lie, desperately. I wanted to tell her it was a random sketch, but it was so not the truth, so far from reality, that I couldn't. Especially not to this woman.

I merely nodded.

Silence.

"You love my son."

My world froze for an instant and I slowly moved my head to look at her. She was looking at me with a strangely blank expression. But her eyes said it all.

I was speechless. The hair…it was the same, hers a bit dulled in color and shine by age and stress, but still the copper hue to it. I wondered how I had failed to notice it before? And the eyes, so much the same shade of green but so different. For in his eyes were there was shining and happiness and hope, in hers you could see the struggles of life and loss, the whisper of a glimmer that was once there long ago, but now lost. Her perfect nose, the curve of her lips.

It screamed it.

Edward. Edward. Edward.

We didn't say anything as we stared at each other, just drinking the other in. I wondered what she saw in my face.

Her shell cracked open in the ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Yes," she breathed suddenly. "You're exactly what he needs."

My mouth fell open slightly as her words rushed through me. Between disbelief, wondering, shock, there raced a warmth. Her words were true, and they belonged, even if I wouldn't acknowledge it.

And this woman, this woman who I had just met only minutes ago knew this by simply looking at me.

"Elizabeth." I said simply.

"Bella."

He had told her my name?

She turned back to the painting, looking in it with the slight stress in her forehead once again.

I could feel in the air she wanted to say something to me. I decided not to speak until she did.

A minute passed as she studied.

"It's spectacular." I still didn't talk. It was just a statement, not an invitation yet.

"You know," she continued, filling the silence, "That he feels the same, if not more."

I stiffened, feeling suddenly sad at her assumption. I could only shake my head 'no' slowly, avoiding her gaze. There were so many things in her eyes I could only guess at, and things I didn't want to. She had seen and lived many things I hoped to never experience.

Her breathy laugh surprised me. "You are exactly what he needs. So stubborn." I felt her soft fingers under my chin, lifting my face to look into hers.

"My son has always been a particular little thing. Always constant, never changing."

She brushed hair back from my face and the gesture reminded me so much of Edward, but I didn't feel uncomfortable. In fact, I felt more comforted in the presence of this woman than I ever had with any family. Especially my own mother.

"When he does decide on something, it's noticeable. And permanent." She never let her eyes leave mine as she spoke.

"I would speak to him as often as I could. At first, I could hear the frustration and weariness, and even fury once. When I asked him why he was so angry, he told me about you. 'Bella,' he said 'is infuriating.'"

Here she laughed. "I told him, of course, you were perfect for him. He was so angry at me being right, guessing his feelings once again, he hung up. Of course he called back two minutes later, apologizing profusely for being so rude. But it was then I knew I was right. Then his tone changed from phone call to phone call. From week to week. Differences only a mother would notice. Content, Happy, Ecstatic, until one day, I called him and he was unmistakably in love."

I could only look at her, tears glistening in my eyes while I listened.

"No," I choked out. "He's not."

The motherly concern on her face made my throat tighten. "My dear. You are blind to the joys of the world but hideously aware to the hardships. My son is in love with you. You cannot mistake it."

"You're ridiculously observant, Elizabeth."

"You should learn to be, Bella."

The air was changing even as we looked at each other. I was being defeated in front of her soulful eyes.

"How can you know? How did you know?"

"Your painting- that's my son. Those are my eyes, his eyes. And the look on your face, the emotions in your eyes. And his voice. You're more obvious thank you think."

I laughed softly.

"I guess so."

"You should know this. Bella, I knew that the day, the moment, that my son gave his heart to someone, I would know it. And I hoped she would deserve it, whoever she was. I'm glad to see she does."

I shook my head, still trying to let my threatening pessimistic side win over.

"But- but Elizabeth, you- you don't even know me. I could be a serial killer, or a drug lord, hell, I could be a man!"

"Bella, if you were a man, I wouldn't judge. It's Edward's life. But I sincerely hope for his sake you're not any of those."

This time I couldn't help the giggle that fell from my mouth when Elizabeth sassily raised her eyebrow at me and gave me an Edward grin.

"No, no I'm not. But I just mean, you seem so sure-"

"I am sure. As you said. I'm ridiculously observant. Especially when it comes to women in love. Especially women in love with my son."

I gaped dumbly. Like a fish.

"He's given you his heart. It's not wise to wait for one of you to make the move. You're both very alike, but still very different."

"I know, it's just…I feel like I'm going to mess it up." I said it so quietly I hoped she wouldn't hear, while I was begging she would.

She took my hands and gave me the look only mother's could, the look that could see things even you couldn't.

"Bella, I'm going to offer this to you now. You see, I had my Edward once. Going through a courtship for years, just to make him sweat-" she laughed bitterly. "Even when I knew from the moment I looked at him, he was who I would be with forever. The one person I could never live without. If only I had known- I would have made him mine from the first day. But, as it goes, I didn't. Now every day, every damn day, I live with thoughts of wasted time by a flighty girl who wanted to play hard to get. I have to live every day with the thoughts of what ifs, regrets of how much more time I could've had with him. And now-" her voice cracked, but her eyes burned with strength as she held my gaze.

"Now, I won't let that happen to you. Don't waste time because of insecurities. Be sure of one thing, Bella. Believe me. Don't waste time, because I won't have you living your life as an old woman with nothing but memories and regrets."

Through my tears I managed to choke- "You're-not-old."

She laughed and pulled me into her arms. She smelled like home and comfort. My tears ebbed to a stop.

She put me out to arm's length. "Will you look at that-your make up didn't run. The wonders Alice can work. Where is she anyway?"

I smile tearfully. "No idea."

She kissed my forehead. "You're a wonderful soul, Isabella."

I smiled. It sounded so motherly coming from her.

As we stood here looking at each other, it occurred to me that life was still going on. The gallery was full with the chatter of wealthy ancients, even when one of the most significant, life changing moments of my existence was going on, had just occurred.

I laughed out loud, briefly amazed at how much everything had changed in only a few minutes.

Elizabeth was an angel.

"MOM!" both our heads snapped to look at Edward, who was bolting across the studio.

My heart soared as I looked at him, beautiful as always, beaming at his mother.

He stopped in front of us, looking a bit confused at our little embrace.

"I see you've met Bella?" he said it as a question.

Elizabeth beamed at me. "Oh, yes, Edward. I have." she shot him that 'you've got some talking to do' look.

He shook off the confusion, going to hug his mother, eyes shining.

"Mom, what're you doing here?"

He was just looking at her, running an inventory, frowning slightly when he looked into her eyes. When they stood side by side the resemblance was astonishing, and I wondered how the hell I hadn't noticed it before.

"AUNTIE LIZZIE!" Emmett's booming voice blew across the gallery, causing many of the old people to jump and quickly pull out their heart medications.

Emmett ran across the room, dragging a surprised Rose behind him. Alice and Jasper followed close behind.

Emmett scooped Elizabeth up in a bone crushing hug, setting her down and attacking her cheek with kisses while she giggled.

Greetings were exchanged, Alice marveling over how young she looked while Elizabeth blushed, Emmett picking her up and hugging her again, until he pulled Rosalie forward.

"Auntie Liz, this is Rosalie, the love of my life, mother of my soon to be daughter." He said proudly.

Elizabeth hugged Rosalie gently. "You must be one hell of a woman to handle my Emmett."

"Well, I'm trying. But I can't wait to see him with a kid."

"Daughter." Emmett corrected, while Rose rolled her eyes playfully.

Once Alice had introduced Jasper to Aunt Elizabeth, (exclamations of what a handsome gentleman), Edward asked her again what brought her here.

"Bella's gallery." she said simply.

"Bella's gallery?" I asked.

She nodded curtly. "I hope you don't mind my showing up unannounced. I planned a surprise, and I just wanted to come see my son and my family." She smiled warmly.

"Of course we don't mind, mom. How long are you staying?"

"I'll be flying out to New York with you, for the banquet."

"Well what time did you get here?"

"Around five thirty. I took a taxi for some dinner, then I took another to the hotel. I dropped my bags off there."

"Hotel? Elizabeth, why don't you stay with us?" I asked.

"Oh, well, dear, I don't want to impose-"

"Aunt Liz. You could never impose. And if you think you're staying at a hotel instead of Château Le Cullen, you're mistaken. Plus we have a chef, right Bella?"

I grinned.

"We'll just go get your bags, Mrs. Masen," began Jasper.

"Nonsense dear, and it's Elizabeth. We'll wait until the auction has been recounted."

I started. The auction paper!

I turned green.

"Alice, could you-"

"Already did."

She had already checked the paper. I didn't think I could handle the nerves, looking at the money battle.

I was sent to mingle again, being assaulted by various women admiring my art, and even a few pervy old men asking if I had any 'naughty' portraits hidden away. I blushed and assured them there were no nude works- yet.

At the end of the night, the winners of the auction were given three weeks to pay and pick up their new pieces, although many paid up front.

I was filthy rich.

Shit.

As the last of the gallery's inhabitants filed out the door, I slumped into a chair.

I felt strong hands rubbing my shoulders and I knew it was Edward.

I looked up at him.

"Success?" he asked.

I smiled. "Success."

"You did amazing Bella. I'm not surprised, of course."

I stood and went to grab my coat. He helped me slip it on.

"Did you and my mother get along well?"

"Yeah. She's…"

"Ridiculously all knowing, like Alice?"

I laughed.

"Exactly."

"So that's where Alice gets it…"

"Yup. Auntie Lizzie."

"Emmett loves her."

"Emmett loves everyone."

We looked at each other silently, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elizabeth, smiling serenely at me.

I felt it right then. And Edward was shooting me confusion as I looked at him with determination.

I reached out to trace Edward's jaw with my finger, as I leaned forward to brush my lips against his ear.

"Edward," I whispered. "I'm not sorry."

I turned to walk out, leaving a shell shocked Edward behind me.

Balls in your court.

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Favorite chapter to write by far.

This is one of the first chapters I imagined when I began thinking about this story.

Review and tell me if you liked it.

-g