"I'm stuffed," Leah announces, leaning back into the couch and groaning softly.
"Are you serious?" He gives her a playful shove and points at the empty cupcake wrappers she left crumpled on the coffee table. "You only ate two."
"I don't need the extra calories, trust me," Leah groans again, patting her stomach, and shifts to stretch out.
"You are not fat, Leah!" Edward looks at her lean figure and the small bit of her smooth stomach that is revealed by the edge of her shirt slipping above her jeans. Her skin is a dark, cocoa color, and a small voice in the back of his mind wonders if every part of her is that color. He forces himself to turn his eyes away and pulls the afghan from the back of the couch, dropping it onto her feet. "If anything you could do with a few extra pounds."
"Bite your tongue," she grumbles, quickly grabbing the edge of the afghan and pulling it up over her.
"You need someone to fatten you up," he teases poking at her through the loosely woven threads of the blanket, and tries to play off his concern over her recent weight loss.
He didn't make the cupcakes on a whim. They're her favorite, and he knows that during the week Leah survives on very little food. It's pride that keeps her from asking for help from Charlie and Sue. She's been out of school for over a year and has yet to get a permanent teaching job. The horrible economy isn't helping, so he tries to spoil her on these weekend visits, feeding her as much as he can and sending her home with a car load of left overs. It's the least he can do in exchange for her company and friendship. Yeah, because it's only her friend ship that you're interested in, Ed.
The sarcastic voice in the back of his mind taunts him. He tries to ignore it, while he turns his attention toward the movie that neither one of them has really been watching. It's a romantic comedy, his choice, much to Leah's disgust. She always picks action or horror movies, which isn't really his thing, but he likes to be fair and gives her a turn to pick. Tonight, he wanted to escape his stress and anger, wanted to remember what it was like to be happy and in love.
Sabrina was one of Bella's favorite movies. While he preferred the original starring Audrey Hepburn, Bella loved the remake, saying that Harrison Ford was far more attractive than Humphrey Bogart. Edward didn't really care either way; he enjoyed the humor and the sweetness of the unexpected romance between Sabrina and Linus.
In some ways he could relate to Linus' sense of responsibility and stress from family obligations. After all, he was walking in his father's footsteps, about to finish his residency, and preparing to begin what his mother was sure would be a distinguished career in medicine. They were Cullens, and Cullens were nothing if not the best. Perfect marriages, beautiful children, and successful careers were practically in his DNA. If only he could feel the pride that was supposed to come with being so picture perfect.
It would be easier to feel like a success if he didn't spend almost every night alone. He hated how selfish it felt to not be happy for Bella. She was doing just as well as he was in her career. It was fantastic, and he still hated it. He barely saw her anymore, and when they were together it was like being married to a stranger.
Bella's life is Hale Pharmaceuticals. She is great at what she does, the best, just like every Cullen should be. He hates how the tone of his thoughts fill with venom whenever he thinks about Bella's work. It isn't right to be jealous of a job, but he can't help it. Her job is the reason they are apart, the reason she keeps putting off having a baby. It's the reason he spends his nights wandering around their enormous, empty house, feeling so desperately alone.
Leah chuckles beside him, her feet playfully kicking at his thigh, and he turns to watch the movie. The movie isn't as funny as he remembers, but Leah's laughter makes it seem better. It lightens him, the sound of her happiness and the feel of her warm feet pressing against his leg. He doesn't feel so disconnected when she is here, and he owes her so much for that.
"David is such a dork," Leah comments, shaking her head at the movie, and shifts her feet, pulling them away.
"Says the girl that's snorting," Edward says, slipping his hand under the afghan to grasp one of her feet.
"Oh, be careful," Leah pleads in a softer tone, and turns to look at him with a pained expression. "I was chasing after hyperactive toddlers all day."
"You still subbing at the daycare?" he asks, while he moves her foot to rest in his lap and starts to rub circles into the arch with his thumbs.
"Yes, not that I mind. Money is decent, and I love those little ankle bitters," she says in between groans, and closes her eyes.
"I'm sure they love you, too," he whispers, losing himself in the simple physical act of massaging her feet and allowing his mind to wander.
His mind spins an image of Leah wrestling with children on his living room floor. Her face alight with a bright smile and a look of contentment. He doesn't let the fantasy go too far. The feeling of happiness that fills him is tinged with guilt and self-loathing. It isn't something he should be thinking about. Ever.
"Ease up magic hands," Leah says, pulling her foot away, almost as if she knows where his mind went.
"Sorry," Edward apologizes, shifting slightly toward the arm of the couch, and tries to focus on the movie.
"It's cool," she replies in a small voice, shifts to her side, and stares at the TV screen.
They watch the rest of the movie in silence. Edward sits, struggling to relax despite the turmoil in his head and the aching in his chest. When the credits start to roll across the screen he turns to see Leah's eyes are closed.
"Lee?" He gently shakes her leg but gets no response.
He can't help but smile. This is typical Leah. Movies are like sedatives for her; she's even passed out in the movie theater. He sighs and scrubs his blunt finger tips across his scalp. There is no waking her once she is out this hard, especially after the day she had at work.
He quickly cleans up the living room, and turns off all but the hallway lights. Then he kneels beside the couch, taking in the sight of her sleeping form and the soft snoring. It is a calming sight, her peaceful face and the slightly upturned corners of her mouth, making it look like she is smiling. He smiles to himself and carefully pulls the afghan away before slipping his arms beneath her body.
When he hoists her into his arms with ease, his concern over her weight and health returns. He vows to fix her a huge breakfast in the morning, maybe even get her to eat some more cupcakes with her morning coffee. The thought cheers him while he carries her up the stairs and into the guest room. He is thankful he had already turned down the bed in preparation for her visit.
As he lays her down in the bed, she suddenly shifts and grabs at his t-shirt with a loose grip of her fingers, "Edward!"
"What is it?" He leans closer, wrapping his hands around her wrist and looks at her face closely.
"Don't hate me," she pleads, her eyes still closed, but her expression seems tortured.
"Never," he promises, gently tugging her hand away from his shirt and brushes his lips over her knuckles.
Her expression softens, and she grows silent again. He sighs, pulling away from her, and stands at the side of the bed for a long moment. Part of him wants to climb into the bed next to her and curl around her sleeping form. The thought taunts the hollow space in his chest that seems to grow wider with each passing night he spends alone in his own bed. The voice in the back of his mind tempts him, reassuring him that it isn't crossing a line, that it is not sexual, but Edward knows better. It could be the first step in the wrong direction, and once he starts down that path he isn't sure he will be able to stop himself.
With one last glance he resigns himself to finally turning away and quietly leaves the room.
Six years ago
Edward leaned against the damp, tar-covered light pole and mentally berated himself for forgetting his coat again. Sure, it was a balmy sixty-five degrees when he arrived at the docks that morning, but now the sun was down, and the sea air was biting his skin. He thought the Chicago winters had prepared him for the cold, but on the coast, even in the height of summer, cold was an entirely different animal. It was damp, sharp, and seemed to dig into your bones. After a twelve-hour day of hauling nets, gutting fish, and chasing the guys around the boat, Edward was exhausted and freezing.
The sight of the lopsided headlights on Leah's VW Rabbit was a blessed sight. He began to jog down the dock and into the parking lot to meet her half way. As the car came to stop he swung the door open and was met with a wall of grinding punk rock music screaming in his face. He smiled and jumped into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut. Leah was already turning the car around and burning a trail of rubber out of the parking lot, before he could fasten his seatbelt.
"And you say I drive like a maniac," he remarked, leaning over to fiddle with the broken knob of the heater.
"Suck it. You aren't driving," she growled a response around the cigarette in her mouth and pulled out on to the main road. "Don't get too comfortable; we're stopping for beer."
"You had a great day, too?" Edward asked, pressing his palms to the vent, while the heater blew cold air at him and made his skin ache.
"I am never working at that fucking yuppie haven again," she launched into a tirade about the snotty customers at Newton Outfitters and told him for the hundredth time that she hated rich white people. "Except you, but you're a mutant and don't count."
"Thanks," he laughed, shaking his head, and started to fiddle with the heater again.
"Here we are," she said, taking a sharp right off the road and coming to a screeching halt in front of a small dimly lit trailer.
"You want a six pack of that piss water, right?" Edward smirked, while Leah glowered at him and tossed crumpled dollars in his face. "Keep your money. The rich kid can cover a sixer of Rainier."
"I'm not a charity case, asshole," Leah snapped, but he was already out of the car and slammed the door on her screaming.
Edward walked up the rickety wood steps to the trailer door and carefully pulled it open. He could never get over the tiny, private stores on the reservation. It was like walking into someone's living room but with beer coolers and stacks of cigarettes. Leah explained that a lot of families have tobacco and liquor licenses, so they can save money by buying stuff in bulk. A few of them run these stores to maintain the licenses, though they mostly sell to family and friends without the mark up. While Edward felt awkward buying beer and cigarettes from an eighty-year-old guy sitting in a recliner, he couldn't argue with how much cheaper it was than in Port Angeles.
The old man gave Edward a stoic nod and handed over a small pile of coins before turning back to his television. Edward grabbed his beer from the cooler and quietly let himself out. As the door closed behind him he was greeted with the site of Leah changing her clothes in the middle of the driveway. She was standing in her underwear, her work uniform was in a crumpled heap at her feet, and she had a t-shirt balled up in her hands.
"Quite staring and get in the car," Leah shouted, pulling the shirt over her head, and leaned into the car to grab a pair of jeans.
Edward quickly tore his eyes from her and ran over to the passenger side of the car. He opened the door, climbed in, and closed it, without glancing in her direction once. She got in, slamming her car door, and threw her work clothes in the back seat.
"That is so much better," she sighed, putting the car in gear and hitting the gas hard.
As they pulled on to the main road, Edward's cell phone began to buzz in his pocket, rescuing him from the awkward moment of self-consciousness. He dug it out and glanced at the screen before grinning like a lovesick fool. The phone was open and to his ear in seconds.
"Bella!" he screamed over the music, and Leah immediately hit the nob to turn it off, plunging them into silence.
"Edward, I miss you so much," Bella sighed through the phone, making his heart speed up and his palms sweat.
"I miss you too," he replied, while Leah made a gagging gesture and almost ran them off the road. "Your sister misses you, too."
"Oh, tell Lee Lee I love her," Bella immediately said, sounding even more excited and happy. "Though, I'm totally jealous that she gets to spend so much time with you."
"Don't be too jealous. I stink like a sweaty fish and sleep most of the time I'm home," he reassured her and switch the phone to his other hand, so he could press his middle finger into the side of Leah's face.
She laughed and pretended to bite his finger. He pulled his hand back and leaned back in his seat, letting Bella's voice drive away the cold and soreness from his body. She was telling him about how well her internship with Hale Pharmaceuticals was going and thanked him again for getting her the job.
"I told you, it was all Rosalie," Edward insisted, feeling mildly annoyed at having to be reminded this whole situation was his fault. "It's her father's company."
"Yes, but you asked her to put in a good word for me," Bella giggled, washing away his irritation with the sound of her joy, and he told himself to just let it go.
It was his fault for over-planning the summer in the first place. True, Bella was the reason he took the position on Billy Black's boat. She had told him how her dad said Billy was hurting for help, and Edward was looking for an excuse to spend the summer with Bella. Little did he know she would learn of an exclusive internship program at one of the biggest pharmaceutical companies in the country. The same company that was owned by Rose's father. He didn't have to ask her for the favor, but he couldn't help doing whatever he could to make Bella happy, even if it meant they would spend the entire summer on opposite sides of the country.
"Actually, it's Emmett you should thank," Edward replied, chuckling and trying to keep himself in a positive space. "She's his girlfriend, after all."
"Fine, we will have to have them both over for dinner in the fall," Bella relented and began to talk about their plans for apartment hunting once they got back to school. "Did you ask dad?"
"Shit, baby. I'm sorry. I forgot," he apologized, stretching the truth a little.
He didn't forget; he just wasn't in a hurry to ask Charlie for permission to share an apartment with his daughter. Not that he thought Charlie would kill him outright, Sue liked him enough to guarantee that Edward would at least a get a warning shot first. Despite his fear of Bella's father, Edward had a lot of respect for how protective he was. He couldn't say he wouldn't be the same or worse with his future daughters.
"I love you." The words slipped out of his mouth, and while he was a little surprised he'd been the first one to say it, it felt right.
"Oh, Edward," Bella began to cry, her voice suddenly shaky and garbled by her sobs. "I love you so much."
His heart nearly burst out of his chest, relief and elation made him lightheaded. This is what it feels like to be in love, to find the perfect person for you. Now, if they could just speed up time and get their life together started. He would talk to Charlie in the morning and get things straightened out. A future with Bella was worth facing down Charlie's shotgun.
They talked for a few more minutes, and Bella told him she needed to sleep. He told her he loved her again before they hung up, and Leah pulled the car into the driveway of the Bella's childhood home. It felt like his home.
"Edward and Bella sitting in a tree," Leah sang in a snotty tone and bounced in her seat. "K.I.S.S.I.N.G."
"Shut up," he laughed, wrapping an around her neck and pulling her close so he could rub his knuckles over her scalp.
"Get the fuck off!" she yelled, pushing at him and finally breaking free. "Keep your sappy cooties to yourself."
She threw her door open and grabbed her tattered messenger bag. As she climbed out of the car, something tumbled out of the bag and landed on the floorboard. Edward immediately leaned over to grab it.
"Hey, you dropped something," he said, picking up the dog-eared paperback and looking at the cover out of idle curiosity.
"Give me that," Leah yelped, lunging for the book, but Edward quickly leaned out of her reach.
"Anne Rice? Doesn't she write those gay vampire books?" Edward grinned at Leah's flustered expression, the skin of her cheeks darkening with obviously embarrassment, and her eyes widening with fury.
"NO!" she spat, reaching out, and snatched the book from his hands. "It's about witches, asshole!"
"Oh, are they gay witches?" he asked in a mocking tone, and she slammed the car door in his face.
He got out of the car, tucking the beer under his arm, and tried to catch up with her, but she was already walking into the house. Edward slowed his steps once he walked through the front door and found the living room dark. Leah dumped her things on the couch and headed up the stairs.
"Meet you out back in a few minutes," she called down to him, and he watched her disappear.
Edward grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door and walked into the kitchen. He dug through the cupboards, grabbing a bag of chips and a plate of leftover fried chicken from the refrigerator. By the time he was headed out the back door Leah had joined him. She was wearing a thicker coat and had her pouch in her hand.
"Pothead," he quipped, pushing open the door and holding it for her to walk past him.
"Shhhh," she hissed, grabbing the beer from under his arm, and headed toward the garage.
She opened the door to the garage and waited for him to follow her inside. They hung out there when Charlie worked the nightshift; it was warmer and far more comfortable than sitting outside. Even if they had to crack the garage door to air out the pot smoke.
"Mmm, fried chicken, gimme," Leah said, making a grab for the plate, but Edward twisted, blocking her with his body.
"Give me a beer first, grabby hands," he said, giving her a stern look, and turned to lay out the food on the workbench.
"Fine," she groaned, setting the beer down beside the food, and grabbed some clean paper towels for them.
They sat on Charlie's beat-up couch, munching on chicken, chips and beer, while Edward tried to find something to watch on Charlie's black and white television. There usually wasn't much on that late, but sometimes they could catch a signal from a Canadian channel and get some hockey scores. Edward was trying to learn more about sports, since Bella's father seemed obsessed with them. Anything to get in his good graces was worth Edward's effort.
"Just turn it off," Leah said and let out a loud belch.
"Impressive." Edward laughed and gave her gentle pat on the back. "I think they heard you in the next county."
"Ha, ha, ha," Leah mumbled, and started to load her pipe.
He watched her go through her little ritual like he did every night and then accepted the pipe from her with a smile. Edward had never been a big fan of smoking pot. Even when he did it regularly, it always made him irritable and paranoid, but smoking with Leah was different. As he exhaled a stream of milky smoke he could feel every muscle in his body relax, and his mind settled into a blissful haze. Leah took the pipe from his hands and called him a one hit wonder.
"Hey, at least I don't read about gay vampires." He felt stupid making the lame argument, but his wits had left him with the pot smoke that fled his lungs a moment before.
"Fuck you, homophobe," she grumbled and took a long pull on the pipe.
"I've got nothing against homosexuals or vampires," he countered, watching his own finger waggle in the air and completely forgot where he was going with the conversation.
"You are so baked," she chuckled, setting the pipe down and grabbing them both another beer.
Edward sipped his beer, struggling to remember what he had been talking about and had a vague thought about a book. "What's your favorite book?"
"Uh…I don't know," she replied, her face scrunching up in a way that made Edward think of the Muppets, and he snorted a little. "What's yours?"
"That's easy, The Man Who Never Missed," he said with a grin, remembering his favorite parts of the book immediately. "It's about this man that realizes there's something wrong with the world and walks away from everything to start over. He ends up starting a one-man revolution that eventually brings down a corrupt government."
"Sounds preachy," Leah remarks with a raised eyebrow and takes a sip of her beer. "It doesn't have a lot of god talk in it?"
"No," Edward laughs and spills a little beer on his shirt. "It's more about being a good person and doing what's right, not matter what it takes."
"So does it have a happy ending?" she asks, leaning over to grab the pipe and lighter.
"I guess that depends on your perspective," he replies, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the adventures of his idol, Emile Kadaji.
"He dies, doesn't he?" Leah groaned.
"How about you read the book and find out," Edward said, attempting to cross his arms across his chest, but forgot how to halfway through the gesture and gave up.
"Fine, but you should read my book in return," she said, kicking his foot and put the pipe to her lips.
"Sounds fair," he sighed and gestured for her to hand over the pipe. "It's about witches, right?"
"Yes," she hissed, a cloud of smoke slithering out from between her lips and curling around her face almost in the shape of a heart. "It's called the Witching Hour."
"Very original," he remarked, taking the pipe from her hands and placing it to his lips.
"It actually is," she said, scooting closer to him, and yawned. "It's about this girl that finds out she's a witch. I don't really like her whiny ass much, but I like the guy she meets, Michael. He's a carpenter, but he can't work because he has this ability, psychometry, where he can sense things with his hands."
"Leah we can all sense things with our hands," Edward chuckles around a mouthful of smoke and starts to cough.
"No, dumbass, like psychic shit, but with his hands," she said, slapping his back and continuing.. "I like him because he seems like a really earnest, good guy, you know? He's just a regular guy stuck in the middle of all this fucked up supernatural shit, and all he wants to do is marry the woman he loves and be happy."
"Sounds nice," Edward said, leaning back into the couch and laying his head on top of Leah's.
"Yeah, it does," she replied with a heavy sigh.