EPILOGUE—EDWARD
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We've only been together four months.
Almost six, if you count the time we kept our relationship a secret.
It's too soon … but the ring in my pocket says otherwise. As does the dent in my trust fund and, most importantly, the tug in my chest every time I look at her.
It may be too soon for some, but not for us. Bella and I have been moving toward this moment for a long time. So fuck what anyone else says. This—tonight—is right for us.
She'll be here any minute. I look around my condo, noting the differences that weren't there a few months ago. What was once a plain, soul-sucking bachelor pad now looks like a home. It wasn't easy—shopping for furniture is torturous, even when one is accompanied by their very favorite person. But the result is a cozy, lived in effect that's more than just a place to crash. A new coat of paint, some plants, and a few pictures were all it took. The pictures are of us, and I smile every time I pass one of them.
Yeah, I'm gone for her—and I'm not interested in coming back.
A bouquet of fifty red roses dwarfs my dining table, in all their romantic shock-value glory. They're over the top, but, according to Senna, they symbolize eternal love. They're also an echo of our reunion, something she won't miss and will likely give me brownie points. I like to hedge my bets.
She'll be here any minute, and I almost can't bear the wait. Nervous energy saturates every cell, and dances along my spine. It's hard to stay still. I'm not truly nervous she'll say no. I'm not nervous about nailing every single detail.
I simply can't wait to ask her.
I can't wait for her to be mine in one more way.
The way our lives fit together is seamless. Though I still work a tough schedule, I don't work as much. Knowing Bella is waiting for me is too tempting to continue to work all those extra shifts. This summer, we've been able to spend lots of free time together, whether we're out exploring the city, hanging out with our friends, or staying in on the couch. Sadly, our play time is about to be curbed. Bella's starting her last semester of grad school, and since she'll be less available, seeing each other will be tough.
That's why I want her to move in. And marry me. In either order, as long as one of them begins today. I'm not picky. I mean, I even let Jake into my house. He's here, now, ruining one of my rugs with his constantly shedding fur. I've had to break down and buy one of those vacuums specialized for pet owners. I suppose I am one, since he and Bella are a package deal. I also sort of like the bastard, if I'm honest.
No one blinks an eye that Bella and I are together. No one, aside from Emmett's initial reaction, has said one derogatory word about our relationship. Not that it would change my mind. All that worry and secrecy, for nothing. If I'd just manned up and told Emmett how I feel about Bella, I could've spared us a lot of trouble. None of it matters now, though.
A key turns in the lock (she's had one for a couple months, now), and Bella comes spilling into the room, tripping slightly over the threshold. "Whoops!" she says as she rights herself. Jake bounds over to greet her, his body practically vibrating in excitement. She pats his head and croons to him until he goes to spread his fur all over another piece of my furniture. We had a long day at the dog park while Bella ran errands and had dinner with Angela, and I wore the fucker out.
"Hey," she says, grinning. She holds out her arms and I go to her, like a magnet to metal.
"I've missed you," I murmur into her neck as we hug. I plant a little kiss there, enjoying the way it makes her squirm.
She pulls back and pecks me on the lips, which turns into much more. When we finally pull away, I ask, "How was dinner with Angela?" It must've been fun; there's definitely alcohol on her breath. That doesn't bode well for my proposal.
"She's having boy issues," Bella says, making a face, before clapping a hand over her mouth. "I'm not supposed to say anything."
I smile. She's adorable when she's buzzed. "You can tell me. Who would I tell?"
She turns red as she considers it. "I don't even know how to explain it."
"I'm sure I can keep up." This has got to be interesting, to have her so embarrassed.
"Angela's boyfriend, Ben—you remember him?" When I nod, she continues, "He's bisexual, and they had a threesome with this guy Eric, and now Ang has a crush on the other dude, and Ben doesn't know, and see why I didn't want to say anything? It's so personal—"
I hold up a hand. "Whoa. Slow down," I laugh, shaking my head at her rapid flow of words. I'm sort of speechless.
"I had absolutely no advice for her, so I took her to happy hour and we had margaritas," she finishes.
"I would've done the exact same thing," I tell her with a nod, at a loss for anything else to say. Talk about a weird situation. And in light of what I had planned for tonight, I don't really want to spend any time analyzing Angela's love life. Fruitful as it may be.
My plan has been derailed by the almighty margarita, and the ring—which previously burned a hole in my pocket—sits there like a hunk of rock. Fitting, when one takes into account the sizable diamond inside. I bought her as big a ring as I could get away with. Time will tell. Maybe tomorrow morning.
Depending on her hangover.
But I have all the remedies for whatever ails her, guaranteed.
Bella scoots closer, and I immediately hug her tight. "Three margaritas … ugh," she moans. "Now I'm at the point where I can't tell if another dose of tequila would be an awesome idea or a terrible one."
I stifle my laugh, because I know it won't be well-received at this time. "Well, let's just say it's not the best idea."
She pulls back, looking up at me with a frown. "Are you saying I'm drunk?"
I lift a hand and pinch my fingers almost together. "Maybe a little?" I put on my most innocent face.
All the ire leaves her and she sighs, wafting a wave of tequila-lime scented Bella in my face. "Okay, I'm a little bit drunk." She goes from sad to happy in an instant. "You should catch up with me." Tequila-soaked Bella never disappoints.
"I don't drink alone anymore," I tell her, still fighting that smile. "And we've just decided there will be no more tequila for you."
"But I'm already drunk," she returns, looking puzzled.
"You're not currently drinking."
"Semantics, Edward."
I burst out laughing. She loves that word.
She gives me The Look. The universal one that says, "you'd better watch it." I realize this is the point where any further antagonization will just really piss her off, so I back down.
"Come, sit with me. Jake and I had a long day, and I need a neck massage." Okay, so I can't completely keep from provoking her a little bit. I also want to steer her away from the roses, which she hasn't noticed yet (though how, I have no idea—the damn things are huge). If she gets a glimpse of those, I'm not sure how I'll explain away such an extravagant gift without letting on that there's more in store. They'll keep until tomorrow morning.
"Only if you return the favor," she says with a grin that means only one thing: I'm going to be dealing with a drunk, horny woman very shortly.
I lead us to the living room, where she plops down on the sofa and opens her jean-clad legs, pointing at the floor between them. My eyes wander where any guy's would go when faced with his girlfriend—soon to be fiancée—in that position, but I settle at her feet quickly, hoping she didn't notice.
Her hands are firm on the tight, stressed muscles in my shoulders. They feel like heaven. She knows what I like, how hard to knead, how long to stay in one place. She hits all the right spots and I find myself melting back against the couch, leaning my head back into her abdomen. Bella gentles her touch and strokes my humming shoulders, before sliding her hands over and down my chest. As she bends down, her tits push into my face, and I can't stop the loud moan that breaks from my throat.
She sits up, laughing, and I'm left without her tits and her hands, and I don't like it. I lift one of her legs up so I can duck under it, positioning my body to see her better. Just to be sure I have her full attention, I snake an arm around her waist and tug her down to my lap.
"You can't honestly blame me, can you?"
She places a laughing kiss on my lips. "Not at all. You can't resist all this."
I kiss her almost chastely, but she grabs the sides of my head and nips at my lips.
Chuckling, I rub my nose against hers. "Tequila makes you feisty. I like it."
"Good. Then shut up and kiss me."
"Is that a dare?"
"It's always a dare, because you know you can't resist."
I hum in agreement. "That's true." The words graze her lips, and she tries to say something, but I smother her words with my mouth. The sweet, tart flavor of limes on her tongue is intoxicating, and I kiss her until I feel as drunk as she probably does. We part, breathing hard. Her eyes are glassy but intense, and she looks at me like I'm her next meal.
"Hey, Edward?" Bella asks, so soft I nearly can't hear her over the sound of our breathing.
"Yeah?"
"I dare you to fuck me." Her voice is louder, but not enough for me.
"What was that?" I ask with a smirk.
Giving me a warning look, she moves her hands to my chest, clenching her fingers in the fabric of my shirt before beginning to work on the buttons. "I said, I dare you to fuck me," she answers, louder this time. Slower. The words hang between us like fog, wrapping us in their embrace.
Once she finishes opening my shirt, I shrug out of the cotton, tossing it aside. I slide my hands under her shirt and push it up, eyes on the skin I'm baring. She's so damn beautiful, and I'm so lucky she calls me hers. Clad in her jeans and a lacy, navy-blue bra, she's a perfect fucking vision.
She goes for my jeans, and I'm about to let her—but then I remember the box in my pocket. I have to get rid of it somehow, before she realizes it's not just my penis who's happy to see her. As a distraction, I grab her hands, pin them in one of mine, and kiss the shit out of her, kiss her like I want to fuck her—hard and fast, then soft and slow. I almost get lost in it, but then Bella shifts on my lap, which feels fucking great on my dick, but she's way too close to that ring box. Somehow, I manage to snag the box with my free hand and shove it underneath the couch. It's not easy—she's pulling at my hand, trying to get hers on me. There's also the fact that 99.9% of my brain is focused on kissing her; I'm so caught up I can't think straight.
As soon as I can, I let go of her hands, and mine go straight to her bra. I barely manage to not rip it off her body. It goes flying across the living room; her tits are in my hands before it hits the floor. I pinch her nipples, roll them between my fingers. Bella makes the sexiest moans, louder than normal because of her buzz. I fucking love it. One of my hands makes its way down between her legs, but I curse when I feel the denim. My access to her soft skin is restricted, and I'm running out of patience. Yanking my mouth from hers, I rasp, "Get those jeans off," and lightly smack her ass.
She gasps, irritation flashing in her eyes, but I simply work open the fly of my jeans. The rasp of the zipper draws her eyes downward, and she bites her lip just about the same time I pull my dick out. She quickly gets to her feet, giving me room to shuck off my own jeans. She hops around a little, stripping her jeans and panties away, and almost trips over the coffee table. Thankfully, I catch her and bring her right back where she belongs—on top of me.
We're both laughing as she straddles me, settling her hips atop mine. She's trapped my cock between us, teasing me with her wetness. I grip her hips, ready to lift them up and push inside her.
"Dare me again," I whisper, digging my fingers into the flesh of her ass.
"I dare you."
"Dare me to what?" Oh, I'm asking for it now, but only because I know it will pay off soon. I want her lost, out of control; I want her to fuck me wild.
She grips my face in her hands. "Fuck me, Edward," she almost growls, bringing my face to hers. Her kiss is punishing, and I eat it up.
I let her control the kiss, control everything but the hold I have on her hips. Taking her direction, I pick her up and guide her down on my cock, moaning aloud at the way her pussy squeezes me.
"Oh, God," Bella cries, rotating her hips in counter to my thrust, and my eyes nearly cross.
There's no more talking. I can't keep my hands off her, yet they never seem to stay in one place. Her hands are the same as we move together, neither one of us able to get enough. When I get too close, I inch my hand down between us, finding her clit and circling the slippery flesh.
"Just like that," she commands, arching into my touch.
I grin, circling faster. "You like that?" I know she does, I can tell by how tight she's getting.
"Yes, you—oh, God!" she cries, and goes over the edge.
I get the feeling that if I hadn't just made her come, she would've insulted me.
She laughs as she comes down, lightly smacking me on the shoulder. "Are you happy?"
"Not yet," I quip and flip her onto her back, thrusting right back inside her so hard she scoots up the rug a bit. She's still giggling, so I assume she's fine. I know she is when she wraps her legs around my hips. God, I love this woman, who can laugh at virtually anything, in any situation. However, there's a limit, and I've reached it.
I kiss her to shut her up, speed up my pace, and neither of us laughs for a long while.
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X
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The next morning, I consider joining her in the shower and asking her there, but the possibility of dropping the ring down the drain is too high. I mull over making her a mimosa and slipping the ring in the champagne flute like a complete cliche, but I'm afraid she'll choke on it. In the end, I go with simplicity and decide to wing it. Yes, I'm an idiot.
When Bella wakes, I pretend to be sleeping. She's always so considerate of my strange sleeping hours, so I know she won't doubt I'm actually asleep. I just hope she goes straight for the shower, allowing me time to retrieve the ring.
As soon as I hear the water, I'm out of bed like a shot, streaking to the living room on a mission. It's got to be somewhere near the end of the couch. I hit the rug on my knees and shove my hands under the couch without looking, ready to snag that ring box easily.
But it's not there. What is, though, is a cold dog nose, right in the ass. I shriek, turning around and covering my junk.
"What the hell, Jake? That's a no-no zone, dude."
He cocks his head at me, clearly puzzled as to why the human doesn't appreciate the traditional dog greeting.
Then I notice something hanging out of his mouth.
Something black.
"Jake?" I approach slowly so he doesn't run. One hand out, one on my junk. The little bugger likes to lick. "What'cha got there, buddy?"
He licks his lips and the scrap falls out. Gingerly, I pick it up. It's black velvet, and my stomach sinks. I scan the room and notice shreds of the box all over the living room rug, but no ring. Jake pants up at me happily, not a care in the world. He's probably expecting me to feed him right about now.
I have a feeling the only thing I'll be feeding him is laxatives.
Frantically, I get on my hands and knees again in search of the ring, to no avail.
But I know where the damn thing is. I just know.
Bella is half naked, eyes wide as I stride into the bedroom. She's adorable. She'd be even more adorable wearing my ring, but it's in-fucking-side our dog. At least, it better be.
"Bella, we're taking Jake to the vet."
"What? Why?" She sounds panicked. But not half as much as I am.
"He needs an x-ray," I say darkly.
"What's wrong with him? And why are you naked? What's going on, Edward?" Bella crosses her arms over her chest, starting to look pissed.
"Can you just trust me on this?" I grab a shirt and shorts from my dresser and throw them on.
"Is something wrong with Jake? Please, you have to tell me."
"Jake is fine, but he needs an x-ray." I'm not going to get out of this without explaining, but I'll sure as hell try.
"You mentioned that. But why?" Bella asks, voice raised.
"I think he ate something."
"He eats things all the time. They all come back out eventually," she says, as if I'm panicking over nothing. Little does she know.
"He still needs an x-ray," I persist.
She starts laughing. "Oh, boy. What did you lose?" She tugs on a pair of jeans and runs her hands through her wet, wavy hair.
I love how she can laugh at anything, but right now that trait is rubbing me the wrong way. If she knew how important this is for me, she wouldn't be doing it. But there's no way for her to know if I don't tell her.
"I think he ate your engagement ring," I admit.
Her mouth drops open and then snaps shut. Twice. Then she swallows, and croaks, "My what?"
"Your engagement ring," I repeat. "I think Jake ate it. He ate the box."
"How did he get the box?"
She still looks dazed as her eyes move from me to Jake and back again.
"It was under the couch."
"How did it get there?"
"I put it there … while we were…"
"Oh … oh! But why didn't you give it to me? Did you decide not to?" Hurt blooms in her eyes, and I move to reassure her.
Taking her hand, I pull her close to me and wrap my arms around her. "No, love. Well, I did decide not to, but only because it wasn't the right time."
"Why not? I feel like I'm asking this a lot right now."
"I didn't want to propose while you were drunk," I admit.
"I ruined it. Shit," she sighs, making me laugh a little.
"You didn't ruin it. Why do you think I was out here hunting for the ring?" And my attention is drawn right back to the big poop emoji in the living room—AKA Jake. We both make our way out of the bedroom, where I lock eyes with the little shit.
We're in a stare down of epic proportions when Bella waves a hand in front of my face.
"Edward, you can't will it out of him." She's smirking when I finally look at her.
"Mira-Lax can," I say decisively. "Or whatever the dog-equivalent is."
Bella goes on tiptoe to peck my lips. "Let's get in the car then. But shh on the V-E-T stuff. We don't wanna give ourselves away."
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BELLA
I haven't let it sink in that he's going to propose. If I let it sink in, I might explode like a balloon full of rainbow confetti. I might do pirouettes across his living room floor, and then break dance. I might grab one of those roses from that ginormous bouquet in the kitchen, and do the tango with a stem clamped in my teeth.
However, I need to function like a rational human being at the moment. This isn't the first time Jake has had an x-ray for this very reason—he ate the key to Charlie's gun cabinet last year. I had to follow him around for three days.
Edward won't take that news well. The non-verbal shade he keeps throwing at Jake has me considering that Edward might be the bigger threat to Jake's health than my engagement ring.
The Ring. My Preciousss…
And the rainbow confetti is back.
I can feel the stupid grin on my face as we race to the vet. It's no use trying to get Edward to quit speeding; I guess he figures he'll control the speed of the car while he can, because there's no controlling the ring's trip through the dog's entire digestive system.
The man in question looks a wreck. His hair is messy and his clothes are wrinkled. His tense jaw and stiff posture only add to the air of stressed mania wafting off of him. I put a hand on his leg, patting gently. He doesn't look at me, but puts his hand atop mine and doesn't let go.
Jake pants at us from the back seat, oblivious to what's coming. It's only once we get about a block from the vet's that he starts to freak out. I fear for his life if he scratches up Edward's seats in his doggie panic.
"It's going to be okay," I say, trying to get Edward out of his head.
"We don't know that. What if it gets stuck? What if he needs surgery? What if it hurts him?"
Aww. He has such a heart. I know he's incredibly pissed at Jake, but he's still concerned. It's just one more reason in the long list of reasons why I love him.
Now's the time to break the news. He'll take it better now that worry has softened his anger. "He's going to be fine. He ate the key to Charlie's gun cabinet last year, and he turned out fine."
"You're a shit, Jake," he aims toward the back seat, but there's a hint of a smile to the almost flat line of his mouth. "How long did it take?"
"Three days."
"I've gotta wait three days to propose to you? And sift through poop the whole time?"
"Yep. Change your mind?"
"Are you nuts? Of course not. I'd do a hell of a lot worse."
"So romantic," I laugh.
He's smiling now, too. "I had the romance part down. Wine, roses … all of it."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," he insists. "I'd only change one thing about last night, and it doesn't have anything to do with you." He squeezes my hand as we turn the final corner. On cue, Jake starts whining, but otherwise stays still. He must know he's on thin ice.
Edward has lost some of his tension, and there's a smile on his face. He's enjoying Jake's discomfort, and I can't even be mad over it. I'm sort of enjoying it too. I could be wearing Edward's ring right now, but it's in our dog's tummy. Dammit.
But the thing is—I don't need the ring. I belong to him with or without the hardware, and he belongs to me.
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x
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The vet visit went pretty much as I expected.
For the next three and a half days, every poop walk is like an archaeological dig. Yes, it's disgusting, and I avoid as much of it as I can, pawning it off on Edward. When he's at work, however, it's all me. Thank God for disposable gloves. I wear a double layer every time. I should buy stock in Purell.
I know it's over when Edward bursts into the room, holding up a baggie like a prize.
"I can see it! I can see it!" He points to the bag and spins around in a circle, making me crack up. Then I notice who's missing.
"Edward? Where's Jake?"
"In the yard." He looks incredulous, like he thinks I don't care about the ring.
I do, but I have a bad feeling. "Did you remember to shut the gate?"
"I think so…" His brows crease and then his eyes bug out. "No! Shit."
We both race down the steps and out on the porch, where we see Jake's happy ass trotting down the street.
"You're gonna marry me, right?" Edward huffs as we run.
"Of course, are you nuts?" I yell back, starting to get out of breath.
"Because I don't run down the street, carrying a bag of shit for just anyone."
"I said yes!"
Edward holds both arms up in a V. "She said yes!"
"Good for you, buddy!" someone yells out their window. They don't sound all that congratulatory, but I don't even care. I don't even care that the closest thing I've had to a proposal is while we're running down the sidewalk after my asinine escaped dog.
"Thank you," Edward calls back, waving like an Olympian who just won the gold.
I don't even care that he looks like a deranged idiot—I just care that he's mine.
And so we run, off into the sunset, with Edward carrying that poop bag like a victory flag.
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x
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I still haven't seen the ring, and it's been four days. Are we really even engaged? I mean, I thought he asked me while we were chasing Jake, but it appears he's forgotten to give me the actual ring. Granted, I want that thing sanitized within an inch of its life, but also, I'd like some confirmation that it actually happened.
It doesn't help that Edward's work schedule has been crazy. With school starting this week, we've barely seen one another. I come home exhausted from classes and TA duties, and he's been working noon to midnight the last few days. It's hard to communicate when we're both half-asleep. When we do manage to overcome the sleepiness, we're not exactly talking much, if you know what I mean.
The weekend is upon us now, and once Edward gets home, he's off for the whole two days. As excited as I am to have two whole free days with him, I'm also a little anxious. Will it happen? Will he finally make it official? I haven't felt this unsure since before we confessed our feelings for one another.
He's due home any minute, and I'm a ball of nerves. It's even affecting Jake—he's slowly pacing the floor between me and the door, head down like he's stalking a trace scent. I don't know why I'm letting the lack of ring bother me, because it's not like I doubt Edward's love for me, or his intentions. I just don't like surprises.
I'm so deep in thought I don't notice the door opening until Edward is halfway through it. I jump up, while Jake sits at attention, tongue lolling out in a happy doggy grin. I don't blame him. I'm ready to sit up and beg for Edward's attention, too.
The man in question looks gorgeously exhausted, if there is such a thing. Sleep deprivation looks so good on this man it's not even funny.
"You're home," I say, barely managing to not roll my eyes at myself, but I'm too busy grinning at Edward.
"Thank God," he sighs, giving Jake a cursory pat on the head on his way over to me. I get the better end of the deal as he wraps me in his arms and kisses the top of my head. "I missed you," he murmurs into my hair.
I lock my arms around his back and press my face into his chest, breathing deep. While he smells a bit like hospital, but I don't even mind. I'm just glad to have him home and all to myself for a couple days.
I pull back to look up at him. "How was work, dear?"
He smirks. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, honey. Now, where are my slippers? Is dinner on the table?"
"Right next to today's paper," I say sweetly, enjoying the way his eyes glint with mischief. "I believe you'll find those slippers especially appetizing. I heated them myself."
"You'd make a terrible fifties housewife," he informs me, grinning as he plants a kiss on my lips. Then he smacks my ass. "Seriously though, I'm hungry. Would you mind getting me something while I change?"
Another quick kiss and he's gone, disappearing into the bedroom.
Well. I expected something a bit more romantic from our reunion, but whatever. I guess I'll get him something to eat; he is probably starving. The man always forgets to eat at work. I throw together a quick sandwich and some chips, then grab a can of Coke from the fridge.
When I return from the kitchen, he's waiting for me at the dining table, wearing the same clothes. I give him a puzzled look as I slide the food in front of him. He watches me, a slight smile on his lips, but makes no move to eat.
"What's up with you?" I ask, unable to keep from smiling under his sort of adorable scrutiny. "Is something wrong?"
"No … no, nothing's wrong." Still, with that look. "I'm just … taking it in."
"Taking what in?"
"The before."
"That must be the sleep deprivation talking, because you're making no sense."
"Maybe it will … after." His smile becomes a full-blown grin, and I'm lost in more ways than one.
"After what?"
"After this." He gets down on one knee and reaches into his pocket.
I cover my mouth with my hands and take in the sight, praying I don't start blubbering all over the place.
"Bella, I wanted you before I even realized what was happening. And when I did … well, I fought it like hell."
"I know all this," I cut in.
"Shush, you. This is my gig," he admonishes, trying to look stern, even with the mile-wide grin on his face. He clears his throat. "When I gave in to you, my whole world changed. I gained a lover, a partner, and a new best friend. Someone I can laugh with, someone who makes me feel like I hung the moon. Bella, you fulfill every need I never knew I had. But there's one more thing…"
And then he stops. The seconds tick by as we wait, eyes locked on one another.
Finally, he pulls his hand out of his pocket, holding up the ring.
"Isabella Swan, I dare you to marry me."
My answer is instant—he doesn't even need to goad me with the old "double dog dare." It's the same as it's been since I was twelve.
"I dare you to love me forever, Edward Cullen," I say, smiling through the film of happy tears in my eyes.
"Is that a yes?" he asks, with a knowing grin.
"Of course it's a yes, Edward. Yes!" I hold out my hand and he slips the ring on my finger.
Leaping to his feet, he sweeps me up in his arms, hugging me so tightly my feet leave the ground. My lips find his and we lose ourselves for a few moments, and when he sets me on my feet, I'm more than a little dizzy.
"I dare you to never let me go," he murmurs.
"Done," I reply.
And I don't.
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THE END.
I'm marking this complete as of now, but I might come up with a futuretake or two, depending on my flaky muse. She's absent at the moment.
I want to thank SarcasticBimbo again for her insightful comments and suggestions. She really helped make this story better.
As for Jake and his eating of the engagement ring—my dad had a dog that was an "eater." He always turned out fine. He never ate an engagement ring, but for the sake of fiction I assumed things would come out smoothly, haha.
Thank YOU for reading. This would be just a silly story in the depths of my computer if it wasn't for all of you. Thank you so much.