Happy Thursday, once again! I must love you guys – I have two tests and a paper to do, but here I am, updating. You guys are awesome and your feedback, or even the fact you're silently reading, it brings me so much joy. Thanks forever and ever. xoxoxo

xXxXx

To Make You Feel My Love

The door slams, and Bella looks up, startled. Edward is standing against it, his back leaning against the wood.

"What are you doing?" She puts her book down, dog-earing her page. Spinning her chair to face him, she raises her eyebrows. "Is your shift over?"

He nods. "Yeah. I've been elbows deep in toilets all morning." He wiggles his fingers at her.

She wrinkles her nose. "Um, so… don't touch me?"

He walks across the tiny office in Esme's studio, takes her face in his hands, and kisses her soundly. "Not an option."

She hums. "Well, I hope you washed your hands, at least." She tugs at his belt loop and brings him forward for another kiss. He turns the slow kisses into stinging smacks on her face and lips, and she laughs and shoves at him. "Go away!"

He looks wounded, and she'd almost believe it if he would stop smiling. "Whatever you wish, princess."

"Don't call me that!"

"I guess it's good I didn't actually mean it, then." He pulls her leotard strap back. "I'm just going to head…"

"Home?" she offers when he stutters over the word.

"Yeah," he grins. "I'm still not used to calling it that."

She raises her chin up and plants a kiss on his collarbone. "Well, it's home. Get used to it."

He tugs her hair and takes his leave. She picks her book back up, trying to get lost in the world of Abnormal Psychology – a class they're taking together this semester, which just started a few days prior. She can't get back into personality disorders, so she stuffs the thick textbook into her bag and goes to the main floor to stretch.

The big recital for all the students of Esme's is coming up in a couple months. Usually, all of the instructors – there are three others, besides Bella – do a number at the very end, to kind of showcase the talent of what the little dancers could become to the parents and audience members. Bella usually hates it, but she's kind of looking forward to it this year, and it may have something to do with the auburn-haired boy that just left, and his promise to be there.

xXxXx

When she walks into her apartment a few hours later, the sight she's confronted with is the last thing she's ever expected to see.

Edward is standing in the living room, embracing a dark-haired woman. Edward isn't a hugger, so it's all the more strange and upsetting.

"Hello?" she says rudely, dropping her bag on the hardwood floor.

They break apart quickly, both of them obviously startled. She crosses her arms over her chest, staring at Edward in a way that says, 'you have a bunch of explaining to do.'

But as soon as the girl turns, she relaxes. She's the girl version of Edward through-and-through, the only difference being the black of her hair.

"Hi," the woman says, moving towards Bella. Her hair is short, close-cropped to her head. "I'm Alice. You must be Bella."

Bella shakes the woman's hand. Everything about her is tiny. Bella isn't a tall girl, but she has at least five inches on the small creature.

"Sorry to barge in like this," she continues, moving back to her brother. "I couldn't get a hold of Edward – "

"My phone's dead," he cuts in.

" – and I needed to speak with him. He gave me your address a couple weeks ago, saying he was subleasing the shithole he used to live in – "

"Alice."

" – so I just stopped by." She shrugs. "I should probably get going. Edward said you two have class later."

"We do," agrees Bella. "But not for a couple hours. I was going to make some dinner… would you like to stay?" She wants to know more about Edward's family. Besides the terse phone call from Edward's father, she's never met anyone of his own blood.

Alice smiles, but it doesn't meet her eyes. If Bella can assign one word to her, it's disapproving. Everything Alice looks at, says, or even the thoughts she's thinking – she has blatant disapproval laced in every syllable.

"That's really nice of you, Bella, but I should get home. I have mouths to feed, too."

"Okay," Bella nods. "But feel free to come by any time. I didn't mean to snap. I was just startled."

Alice waves off their concerns. Bella feels like she should say something else, but she's horrible at small talk.

"Smoke break?" Edward asks, breaking up the awkward silence.

"Sure," Bella says, relieved to have something to go do.

"You smoke, too, Bella?" Alice inquires, her voice dripping in disapproval again.

Bella bristles. She knows it's a gross habit, but she'll be damned if Edward's sister – who apparently just showed up at her house – is going to judge her for smoking, or anything else for that matter.

"Goodbye, Alice," Edward says firmly, dragging Bella away. She's sure he can tell she's about to be a bitch; he's seen it plenty of times.

They hear the door close as they step out onto the balcony. Bella collapses into a chair, pulling out her pack and lighter.

He steals her lighter from off her thigh and takes a long drag, running his hand over his hair. It was long enough to be cut into a style, so last weekend, Bella took Edward to some salon, where they cooed over him and gave him some sort of messy, spiky thing. He hasn't once taken the time to actually style it, so it's less spiky and more messy.

"Why do you smoke, Bella?" he asks after a second.

She shrugs. What is this, judge Bella day? "Emily smokes, as do a majority of my friends. It was easier to just accept a cigarette after a while, and then I'd start wanting one, but kept feeling bad for bumming smokes…"

"So you started buying your own, and after that, you're fucked."

She nods. "Yeah. I think I could quit any time, though. Shut up, I know everyone says that. But I don't…. I don't, like, love it, you know? It's just something to do. Something to do with my hands and mouth."

"I've got something else you can do with your hands and mouth…"

"Funny. Edward has jokes." She tugs on her ponytail. "Anyway, I'm sure your sister thinks I'm an awful influence on you."

He laughs. "My sister knows I don't do anything I don't want to, trust me. She's just really protective of me in general, I think. You're the scary girl who could break my heart. You could leave if I got sick, and make me lose my will to live – "

"Don't ever say anything that stupid again. Losing your will to live if I left – that's ridiculous!"

"A lot goes in to fighting for your life, Bella. Everyone can find little reasons to get up in the morning – for the most part – but to actually sit there, know you're dying, and try to figure out why you're battling on… it gets tedious. Lonely. Depressing as hell. I don't know if you've noticed, but my sister sure has – you've brought me… you've brought me to life again. That sounds so stupid – "

"No, it doesn't."

"Anyway, I guess she's just scared for the same reasons I am. You took me out of the hole. It's like I told you a couple weeks ago – I'm living. You know? It's the first time I can honestly look at myself in the mirror and think 'you're alive' instead of 'you're dying.' That's… big. I'm fucking terrified that it's going to go away." He finishes his cigarette, mashing it in the glass ashtray.

"You're scared that what's going to go away?" She's pretty sure she understands, but he so rarely gives her a peek into his heart, she needs to push everything out he's willing to tell her.

"You. Your love. This… us. It's turned my world upside down. Everything is going so well – we live together, for god's sake. We carpool to class. We work at the same place. We're constantly together, and even though sometimes I want to strangle you – "

She makes a face at him.

" – I'm not tired of it. I want it. I'm just so afraid that it's going too well. Since when is anything supposed to be this easy?"

"I wouldn't say it's easy," she counters, holding her hand out to him. "I would just say it's worth it." He pulls her up easily, and she rests her head against the chest that is getting firmer with muscle every day. "And Edward? I'm not going anywhere. And you're not ever going to get sick again."

"Ever?" It's like no one has ever told him that before, because he sounds so desperate to believe it.

"Never."

"Promise?"

She looks up at him. His face is cast in shadows due to the fading sun setting between the heavy, thick trees. His hazel eyes flash yellow in the dim light, and his mouth is nearly red from his sharp teeth worrying his fleshy lips. His hair is turned every which way over his forehead, and his skin is so pale, she can see his blue blood at the surface.

He's stunning, and he's hers, every scared, healing inch of him.

"I promise."

xXxXx

Emily demands her attention a couple days later. She's been pretty absent from the apartment lately, but Bella knows not to pry with her. She's tighter than a porthole when she doesn't want to tell a secret, even more so when pushed.

So Bella meets her for lunch downtown. Emily looks haggard, which is strange. She's usually very put together, whereas Bella tends to be a bum.

"What's wrong?" Bella asks as soon as they sit down. She looks close to tears.

"I think I'm pregnant," Emily bursts out, garnering many looks from other patrons.

Bella's eyes widen. "Um. Um. What? Why? I didn't even know you were sleeping with anyone!"

"No one did," she wails miserably. "I'm so stupid, Bella! Such an idiot!"

"It's okay," Bella soothes, even though she's not sure that it is or isn't. "Let's just eat some lunch, and then we can go get a pregnancy test and figure it out. There's no point in not knowing, right? Then you can figure out your options from there."

"I'm a million weeks late," Emily continues after they place their drink orders. "I skip my period sometimes because I suck at remembering to take my pills, so I thought that's what happened last month. But I was due for my next one two weeks ago, and it didn't come, either. I'm in deep, Swan. I really think I am. I've heard that women can just tell sometimes… I think I am."

"Okay," says Bella, trying to be calm. "Would your parents help out?"

Emily shrugs. "Yeah. They wouldn't be happy with me, but they love me, you know? It would just be a huge adjustment. I'd have to move back home…" She looks at Bella, guilt drowning her expression.

"I know." She puts her hand over Emily's. "Look, that's the last thing you should worry about, okay? Edward and I will figure it out."

"So, he's sticking around?" Emily asks, obviously wanting to stop thinking about her own angst.

"Well, yeah, of course."

"It's just weird, Bella. You've always been so fiercely independent, and now you're a 'we'. You know?"

"Yeah… but it's a good thing. He makes me happy."

Their salads come, and Emily is quiet for a while. "How do you do it?" she blurts out finally.

Bella is in the middle of chewing spinach. "Huh?"

"With Edward – he's great, don't get me wrong. A good guy. But… aren't you constantly freaking out?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Even if he wasn't sick, he could walk out in front of a bus – " She used that excuse on him once, and he had scoffed at her. Emily does the same.

"Don't bullshit me, Swan."

"Of course I'm scared! But it would suck – life would – being without him. Yeah, I was fine before him. But I'm so freaking happy. I'm not going to sacrifice that happiness for the fear."

Emily studies her silently. "You're really fucking strong, you know that? It's almost scary."

Bella shakes her head vigorously. "No, no no no. It's not like that. I hate when people say that. It's not strength. It's not a conscious decision to be strong for him or us or anything. It's just – I just want him, so I'm gonna have him until I can't. People are thrown barriers in relationships all the time, you know? This is one of them. It's just… a thing. I don't want to be admired or anything. That's… no."

"I freaking love you, Bella. For real. You don't want admiration or pity. What do you want, then?"

She thinks about that for a second. "For everything to work out. To have him. And to be happy... to not have to worry. And to not have to stare at him and wonder if I'll be looking down at him in a hospital bed one day."

"I've been sleeping with Sam," Emily shouts out, a couple beats after Bella's proclamation.

Bella chokes on her water. "What? Sam Uley – Leah's boyfriend?"

"Yeah," whispers Emily. "Remember when we saw him briefly that weekend we went up to Forks?"

That had been months ago. "Yeah…"

"Well, you made all those jokes about how you think he's interested in me – "

"Don't blame me!"

"I'm not! I was just bored, so I got his number when you walked off to call Edward, and we started texting. Well, a couple weeks later he invites me out to La Push, to hang out. He and Leah were… are… having problems, so we got drunk and talked about it. And well, talking led to fucking. And more fucking. And now… we've been having an affair of sorts during his on again off again relationship with Leah ever since."

"And now you're pregnant with his kid."

"More than likely."

"Jesus, Emily."

"Dude, I know. Trust me."

Bella doesn't know what to say, because she has no idea how she herself would react in this situation. She just hopes someone would have solidarity for her, no judgments, and a shoulder to cry on if necessary.

xXxXx

When Bella drags herself into the apartment several hours later, Edward is in the kitchen, making himself grilled cheese and tomato soup.

"Want some?" he offers as a greeting.

"Yes, please," she sighs, sitting down roughly at the table.

He kisses her forehead as he puts a steaming bowl in front of her. "What's the matter?"

She spoons some mozzarella cheese into her soup, and then swirls it around absently. "Emily is pregnant."

"What?"

"Yeah, with this guy's baby who's practically engaged. It's a huge mess." She takes in spoonfuls of the hot soup, knowing Edward is watching her carefully. "She met me for lunch downtown, then we walked to the drug store and bought a pregnancy test. She took it right there in the bathroom. I took her to see a movie after, so she'd get her mind off of it… and now, I'm assuming she's on her way to her baby's daddy's house."

"Well," Edward says after a few moments of slurping. "At least she's an adult. She has options… is she keeping it?"

"Yeah," Bella nods. "At least, that's what her decision was today. I have no idea how Sam will react and if that will sway her decision. I think she wants him to leave his girlfriend… well, no, of course she wants that. She wants him to be in her life, and the baby's. I feel really bad for her… but geez, I mean, she even told me she knew she was being irresponsible with her birth control. And her family – I mean, their genetics show how fertile they are, you know? She's one of six, and her mom was one of ten. The egg probably swam to the sperm."

Edward laughs, choking on his soup. "Well, at least we'll never have that problem."

"What?" Bella picks at her grilled cheese.

He looks distressed. "What do you mean, 'what'?"

"I mean, I don't understand what you're saying."

He takes a long pull from his water. "It means I hope kids aren't something you want, because I'm most likely sterile."

She's not concerned about that at all. What's got her mind so wrapped up is his casual reference of a future together – kids? That implies… marriage, a mortgage? Does she want that? Can she look that far? She's shocked Edward is looking that far in the future.

"Just tell me – your face is freaking me out," he says.

"I don't care about kids," she tells him. "It just… makes me ridiculously happy that we're having this conversation because – "

"I'm serious about you," he cuts her off. "Bella, I love you."

He's all but said it several times. The words 'love' have been there, but not in that format, not the three little words that, even if they're implied, mean everything once they're finally said.

"You do?" she whispers.

"Yeah," he agrees shyly. "Why… don't you? Do you not? Am I an idiot? Should I move out?"

"Shut up, shut up," she cries, crawling into his lap. She kisses him once, twice, three times, and then another, because she likes it so much. His hands splay across her back, and she's tired and sweaty and mentally drained but so alive. His touch is electric, full of sparks that are igniting her skin. "I love you, Edward. I love you. I swear I do."

He picks her up, and she remembers the days he could barely lift his own self from a chair. He's so strong now, so strong and living and fluent under her busy fingers. His shirt comes off and she flings it… somewhere. Her shirt goes too, and then her bare back is against the cold fridge. She yelps against his lips, so he sets her down on the counter and gets to work on her bra.

He throws it, and it lands in the cooling pot of soup. She screeches in protest – that was her favorite! – but then his mouth is doing very nice, interesting things against her nipples.

"Bed?" she suggests.

"Too far away," he protests. He shoves her underwear down until it's hanging off an ankle, and then lifts her legs so she's spread wide open on the counter.

"Um… we have neighbors," she whispers.

"Then I suggest being very quiet."

Quiet? How can she be quiet with his tongue and teeth and fingers and lips and the suction and motion and all the other things he does so well? She's had plenty of her boyfriends go down on her before, but she thinks Edward loves it. She thought it was a myth, guys that loves going down on girls, but apparently not. Or maybe Edward is too good to be true, like she often thinks.

But then thinking goes out the window, because he trails a finger up her stomach to wrap around a nipple, and his tongue is so warm, so wet, and she can almost taste herself on his lips if she thinks about it, and his moans against her are the most arousing thing she's ever heard.

When she comes, she bangs her head against the cabinets. It sounds like a gunshot. Edward snickers at her, pleased with himself. She kisses his wet mouth as he drops his pants and scoots her closer to the counter's edge.

"Where are the closest condoms?"

"Bathroom," she gasps.

"Wait… where are my pants?"

"No idea."

He spots them hanging off a lamp. He digs through his pockets for his wallet, and then pulls out a small foil package.

"Such a boy scout." She watches him roll the condom on himself, and then she's watching the back of her eyelids. It's unfair that anything feels this good.

She wraps her arms around his neck as the force of his thrusts scoot her across the counter. He's keening quietly in her ear, and she's so full, fit to burst, of love and life and goodness and him. She bites down on his shoulder and digs her feet into the small of his back as he plants his arms down next to her sides.

They've done this a handful of times since the first night in Canada, and it's always been sort of a need for release. But this time, it's some sort of statement. It's like she's taking him in, his love, his flaws, his diseases and his healing, and she's telling him she wants it all, hard, soft, rough or smooth times – it doesn't matter.

He presses hard up against her for a couple of short, deep thrusts, and then pulls out, pulling at his cock and groaning into her neck. She rakes her fingernails up and down his back softly, murmuring that she loves him so much, more than he will ever know.

xXxXx

Later in life, she commonly refers to this day as 'the day it all went to hell.' She doesn't know if her general optimism steered her down this course, and God was displeased with her for not being more frightened, but whatever it was, it woke her up out of the happy dream she had been living in.

She rolls over to him that morning, her naked side pressed into his chest. He was warm, so warm – too warm?

She looks into his face. He's sweaty, but his teeth are chattering. She presses her palm to his cheek.

"Edward?" Her voice betrays her panic.

"I don't feel good," he whispers.

xXxXx

Uh oh.

The chapter title comes from a song of the same name, "To Make You Feel My Love" by Bob Dylan.

See you next Thursday (please, don't kill me before then)!

*Also, my beta informed me that "fit to burst" is a Southern expression. For those of you who don't understand, it just means "ridiculously full."