A/N So this is it. I'm not sure how I feel about this being over, but I know that I adore all of you! Thank you so much for your reviews which continue to be prized possessions. Can't thank you all enough!
Sah once again saved you (and I) from my horrible grammar :) She is fantastic.
***
"He actually told me to call him if I get an itch he can scratch," Angela huffs. I chuckle and shake my head. She really does have the worst luck with men. We used to argue about that, putting our horror stories up against each other, letting them battle to the death. But since Edward, Angela has declared me exempt. It's one battle I'll happily take a loss in.
"Maybe you should stop picking up guys on Tequila Tuesday Ang," I suggest. She glares at me and purses her lips, and I feel like I may have just shrunken two inches. That woman has the power of facial contortion down to a science.
"So I should start hitting on the subcontractors for Rebel Diamond?" she quips. I roll my eyes and shove my shoulder against hers, the motion sending her flying into a passing stranger. She apologizes profusely before smacking me upside the head with her clutch. All I can do is laugh.
"God, if I didn't like you so much, I would really hate you in all your settled with a secret musician glow," she grumbles. I shake my head again. I can't argue. I know I'm being obnoxious and am enjoying every moment.
I never thought I would be that person. That annoying, I'm so in love girl, who thinks that fairy tales might be true, andthat leprechauns mightactually hang out at the end of a rainbow.I'm savoring every moment.
Not that there aren't moments when I want to shove Edward off my fire escape. That actually happens often. Times when he eats all the cream out of the Oreos and puts back the hard cookies, or when he falls asleep watching TV and I have to drag my ass out of bed to drag him back with me in the middle of the night. And yet, it's still better than I ever thought it could be.
He's my elixir. The power he has to just calm me down still blows my mind. At moments when I am sure I'm going to teeter off the edge, he manages topull me back. As much as my instincts try to pull away and retreat, he tames them.
"If you don't wipe that silly smile off your face, I am going to drop you off in Alphabet City," Angela threatens. I duck my head and suck my cheeks in trying to get rid of my perma-grin. I just feel so damn good, and grown up, and not broken.
"You could always date Emmett," I offer, knowing full well this will piss her off. Maybe a little anger will help her find her sense of humor. Those two need to stop dancing around their mutual attraction, and just got for it. My words stop her in her tracks. I'm halfway down the block before I realize she's not next to me anymore.
My toe gets caught in a crack as I try to turn towards her. I guffaw and throw my arm out to balance myself. Then Angela stalks towards me and takes me by the elbow. She drags me down the street, mumbling under her breath, as I try to keep up.
"Good Lord Ang. Let somebody help you out. This kind of tension can't be healthy," I stammer. She stops again and looks like she's going to yell, but then she just laughs. She bends over at the waist, her hands on her knees, and lets it go. The crowd moves around us, like rerouted water.
I pat her back a few times, and wait for her to calm down. There's a little guilt involved in this moment. Ang has been working her ass off. We've been in higher demand, and for some reason, she thinks she needs to pick up the slack. In reality, we need to hire more people or scale back.
"God, I needed that," she breathes as she straightens herself. I grin at her and we keep walking. More people. People Angela can boss around. She'll like that.
We step into the consignment store, and I'm instantly excited. These kinds of places enchant me. The idea what everything here has had a pervious life, stories behind them, and now have the chance of a new story. My fingers tingle with the need to reach out and touch everything around me.I keep them in check as my eyes soak in the variety. These shopping trips are always so much more pleasant than dealing with new retailers. Why not give old instruments a new life?
Angela immediately heads to the back to talk to the owner, while I pick my way through the shop. I pause at a large black coffee table, and try to picture it in our apartment. And there's the cheesy grin again. I need to tone that down, I'm a littlesick of myself at this point.
But I can't help the sense of pride I feel at the thought of sharing a place with Edward. A blanket of calm settles over me, rather than panic. Not that the panic was completely absent from the process.
The thought had crossed my mind several times. Edward never stayed at his place, so it seemed natural for us to make that step. But then there was Emmett. There was no way I was going to toss my best friend to the street, and I also wasn't going to make him suffer through living with a couple. So I stalemated.
I avoided the hints Edward dropped, my flight urge sated by my hesitation. And then it was out of my hands.
I came home one night to find Edward on the couch and the whole placing feeling a little foreign. Gone were the tacky bear cap murals and shrine to all things guitar hero. I froze as my eyes took in the once familiar room.
Edward eased towards me, like he was approaching a skittish wild animal, which was probably a tame comparison. His hands ran the length of my arms. And then Emmett appeared. Apparently it was a team effort.
They then hit me with it. Emmet was sick of being saturated in my new relationship with Edward, and Edward didn't see the point in ever returning to an apartment that held nothing but bad memories for him. So taking control like typical males, they took it into their own hands. Emmett moved into formerly Hannahland, and Edward formally moved in.
It only took me half an hour on the floor to come to my senses. Edward's hands skimming over my arms, his words being whispered into my ear. And my flight reflex gave up.
"Izzy, they've got some violins in the back I'm going to check out," Angela calls from the back of the store. My head lifts, following the sounds of her voice, and I wave my hand giving her my consent. I shake my head, and try to clear my thoughts. Work finally grips my attention, and I begin to pick up small hand bells and tambourines I find.
I spread them across the counter when my arms become too full, and smile at the cashier.
"Do you all deliver big pieces?" I ask. He glances down at the small percussion pieces I've picked and back at me. I smile and motion towards the coffee table.
"We try not to, or else we would never do anything else, but I think we can help you out," he offers. I smile tightly back at him. Not so long ago, he might have been the next tally on my list. A number 30 or 31 by this point, but that feels like another lifetime now. And I feel proud of that fact. Like I finished a marathon rather than just defeating a personal demon. I wonder if I could find a trophy for that.
I wander away from the desk, not wanting to encourage the cashier, and twist my way in a nook in the far corner. Buffets and armoires surround me. I let my twitching fingers roam. My eyes follow the path of my hands, skipping over peeling paint and varnished wood, until they ghost over white wood and I stop.
It's something I've thought about, dreamed about, pictured in my mind. And yet, seeing it in person is overwhelming. If I didn't know better, I would say someone stole the image from my mind while I slept. My eyes take in every detail greedily, looking for some flaw that will disprove the thumping of my heart in my chest.
And then I can feel myself bunkering down, preparing for the wave of panic to crash over me, to take over, but it never comes. Instead a wave of warmth ripples through my body, pulsing and brining a calm I didn't know I was capable of.
I ride this rave of confidence back towards the desk.
"That one as well," I say, handing over my personal card. He nods and jots down the information. The process is so simple, like he doesn't realize the life altering moment this is for me. And just like that, I know. No more incessant doubt. They might come back and lick at my heels later, but they'll never be able to consume me after this moment.
***
As kids, you're told about the landmarks of your life. People list them off like grocery lists. Turning 16, graduating from high school, college, falling in love, getting married. It's like a checklist of a successful life. Most of those landmarks are not monumental. More of a requirement than a life-changing event.
And then there are the events that no one tells you about. Things like divorce, and heartbreak, and death. The real events that mold and shape and fucking change the core of who you are. Life isn't built on the events you have in common with everyone else, but the events exclusive to you. The moments that compile, to represent who you are.
But this event, this checklist moment is turning out to be a pretty big deal. I rake my hand through my hair and take a few soothing breaths. I could really use the obligatory best friend at this moment. I pull out my phone and dial the familiar number.
"What's up loser?" Alice chirps. I chuckle. This is what I needed. Something light, someone to push me.
"You sure know how to boost my ego," I reply. She clicks her tongue.
"You don't need any of that. What's got you all in a tizzy?" she presses. I groan and lean back in my chair. We've talked several times about this very issue. Most of which involved Alice telling me I was a coward and an idiot if I didn't go through with this.
"Am I really going to do this Al?" I ask. She sighsloudly. I wait for her belittlement. She covers the phone for a moment and I smile as she tells Skye that she won't grow wings if she jumps off the roof.
"I know I must be hearing you wrong. There is no way that you are once again pussy footing around this. Get off your ass. Quit hiding behind your work, and just do it," she commands. I nod along with her words, even if she can't see me. Moments like this remind me why her and Jasper were so good together. I can hear him in her words, and it makes me smile. That alone is a huge accomplishment.
I hang up the phone, knowing Alice doesn't need me to say anything else. I push away from my desk and stand. Violet looks up at me and smiles.
"You actually going to go through with this?" she asks. I nod determinedly. She hands me my jacket and all but pushes me out the door.
"Don't you dare come back here until you have. I can't handle you like this. It pathetic, and I mean that in the best possible way," she instructs. She's right. Someone told me once that I have to ask for what I want. So that's exactly what I'm going to do.
Even with my resolve, my nerves spark. Not because of anything but my own lingering insecurities. The last shadows of a chasm that's been filled. I try and calm myself, using lame breathing exercises from a yoga DVD my dad sent to me.
This is what I want. It's all I want.
***
There are moments in life that hold so much weight, you feel like there should be a crowd to witness them. A crowd and a big ass pair of scissors. Some kind of very public acknowledgement of the gravity of something so simple, and yet so immense.
I step back and take in what used to be Emmett's room. The windows are pulled open to usher out the funk that always hovered in the air. That smell is now mostly masked by the smell of fresh paint. Nothing drastic or defining, just soft and warm, and so appropriate.
I allow myself a few moments to commit to my memorythe way the sun filters in through the window, and the billowing of the curtains, the lingering feeling of calm. As I back out of the room and pull the door shut behind me, the nerves bubble up.
Now that the work is done, the wait is all that's left. I'm hoping he didn't sense anything as I pushed him out of the door this morning. He had a rare Saturday appointment, and I was all too happy to usher him out with his He-man lunchbox filled with a lunch rather than receipts.
He stuck his ground in the doorway and looked at me long and hard, like he was trying to read my mind. Not that I would ever welcome him into the fuckery that my mind can be. In the end, he settled for a lingering kiss.
Turns out, I am not meant to pursue anything remotely artistic. Thank God I talked myself out of trying to paint some kind of mural. I pick at the paint crusted under my nails and on my bare arms. Now I have to get rid of the evidence.
The nerves bounce around inside of my stomach, like Mexican jumping beans. This is the first time I've initiated anything like this. Usually, I wait for him to try a handful of not so subtle attempts before fumbling through a direct attempt. But I want this. I want to be the one putting myself out there.
I want to do that for him. Because I can. Because it's all led up to this. And I know its not exactly putting myself out there like singing a song on stage, but it means just as much to me, and I hope it will for him.
An hour later, I'm showered and trying everything in my power to not pace in front of the door. My current effort involves compulsively channel surfing, while glancing every third second towards the door.
When the door finally opens, I'm so keyed up I almost fall off the couch. I'm trying to act calm, but really I'm jittery and annoyed he couldn't have gotten home before the sunset, so the natural light could have played a part in this reveal.
His movements are slow, deliberate, and it's making my anxiousness increase. I watch as he shrugs off his jacket ad takes his time hanging it. Instantly, I can tell something is off. There's a slouch in his shoulders, an invisible weight pressing on him.
When he finally turns to face me, his head is down. His eyes flit up to meet mine, and he offers me a small smile. My heart races. I had this all planned out in my mind. There might have been some slightly unrealistic aspects, like singing birds and perfect lighting, but it never involved this version of Edward.
As he gets closer, his hand eases down and into his pocket. I can't tear my eyes from that movement. It can't be. The familiar motion has been absent from our lives. My throat tenses, and I struggle to breathe.
Instantly, I'm trying to think of how long I can keep him out of Emmett's old room. This can't happen right now. It's all falling apart in front of me. Then comes the anger. Anger that he's ruined this moment, my high of confidence and assurance.
"Stop." My voice cracks, hoarse with lack of use. His eyes shoot up to meet mine. So much confusion in his eyes. I keep my gaze hard and fight to keep control of my carefully constructed façade. His hand instantly pulls from his pocket and he clears his throat.
"Sorry," he mumbles. I should find some kind of comfort in the fact that he knew exactly what I was talking about, but it just makes me surer that there is something very wrong with this moment.
My chest heaves with my labored breathing. My eyes are still on his, wanting answers, demanding answers.
"Why would you need that again? What happened? I mean, I thought that was over," I stammer. Everything is shattering so quickly, and I just want to reach out and try to salvage a few pieces of what could have been. His jaw clenches, and I know this is going to blow up.
"God, Bella, nothing. I just put my hand in my pocket. When did that turn into a fucking crime?" he hisses. I move backwards with his words. The anger is unexpected. And I'm more worried. He's hardly ever angry. Frustrated, often, annoyed, sure, but not angry.
My face creases while my eyes flicker up in the direction of the closed door above us,and my heart stutters.
"You haven't needed that in so long. There's something wrong," I announce. Because it's the only thing I'm sure of at this moment. Nothing else is adding up. My mind is flipping through the past few days, weeks. A lot of insignificant spats, but nothing that would force us back to this. At least, nothing I can think of. His shoulders heave, lowering even further.
"Nothing's wrong. I've just had a long day," he offers. Now I'm bristling. I won't accept this half-assed cop out. That's not how we do things. I stand up and cross my arms over my chest, taking several quick steps to stand in front of him.
"Stop. Just tell me. Don't act like a teenager caught with his hand down his pants," I demand. I want him to laugh and act like this never happened. I want a do over. He leans forward and cups my cheek before kissing me softly. Before I can even participate, his lips are gone. I'm left looking like a fish out of water.
"Seriously. I just had a long day. I'm sorry," he says again. Why is he doing this? A million worst cases run through my mind of why he wouldn't just spit it out. Most of them make me want to run my stomach inside out. I pull away from his touch and look up at him, my gaze meeting his.
I move slowly, slow enough that he could stop me. I can't make him tell me, make him open up, but I can take away his crutch. My hand eases into his pocket and I'm careful to simply grasp the cold metal and smooth stone I know will be there.
"Bella," he sighs and I almost stop, but I have to do something. I can't just be still while this happens. I have to push him into action.
His face clenches as I pull my hand back. I wait for him to protest, to explain, to do anything to fix this horrible moment. He simply stares at me, and I can't place this look. I try to rub my thumb over the familiar sharp corner, but it's not there.
My eyes shoot down to my hand and I uncurl my fist slowly. The ring it reveals is not THE ring. Not the ring that I've worn before. Not the ring stained from overuse and time. This ring is pristine. My mouth falls open and I can't catch my breath.
I can feel him move in front of me, and when I lift my eyes, he's on his knees, both of them, in front of me. A dry sob slips from my lips, and I hit my knees in front of him.
"Edward," I gasp. The battery of emotions I was feeling just moments ago are instantly replaced with a completely new set. My heart beats frantically for a new reason. He smiles nervously, and his odd behavior falls into place. I feel like the worse kind of ass. Thinking the worst, when this was the reason.
"I wish you would have given me a minute," he teases gently. I alternate between fighting back sobs and laughter. My free hand reaches out to cradle his face.
"Did I ruin it? You can go back out and I'll do it right this time," I offer frantically. There wasn't a lingering fantasy of the perfect proposal in my mind, but if he had one, I wanted to give that to him. And then my mind slows enough to wrap itself around that word. Proposal. I shudder in disbelief. This is actually happening.
"No, its right this time," he chuckles. I chew a little on the inside of my cheek and try to control my breathing. His eyes smile at me, and my whole face responds.
"This is probably exactly as it should be. I was never nervous about proposing to Hannah. I knew she'd say yes. And even if she had said no, I don't think I would have cared. But now, fuck Bella, this matters. Your answer matters to me. I want you to say yes, so badly," he rambles. I smile again. He reaches down to my hand and pulls the ring from my palm. He clears his throat, and takes my hand.
"Marry me Bella?" he asks as he slips the ring over my finger. I give him just enough time to get the ring in place before I take his face into both my hands. I lean my forehead against his and just breathe him in for a while. I want to burn this moment into my very being. Make sure it never is less clear, less amazing than it is now.
"Yes," I sigh. He smiles and covers my lips with his. The kiss is slow and soft, and I pull him closer to me, not able to be as close as I want to be.
"This might suck sometimes. You know that right? And I'll always need coffee in the morning before I can have a real conversation. And I might never behave like a normal adult," I warn him, pulling my lips from his briefly.
"I love all of you Bella. Even the part that won't talk to me in the morning," he answers. I smile against his lips and just hold that position. I move my lips against his for a few more minutes, and then pull away, kissing across his jawbone toward his ear.
"You're the only one that's ever mattered. The only one," I say against his ear. I can feel his smile even though I can't see it. He holds me against him for a long time, and I have no desire to move. And then my thighs start to protest, kneeling is only comfortable for so long, even if it is for the most important moment in our life to date.
I pull away slowly and pull Edward up with me, keeping as much of our bodies in contact as I can. Who knew I could be this sappy? Thank God Emmett can't see us now.
"Bella, I know this might be ruining the moment, but why does it smell like paint in here?" he asks. And just like that, my nerves are back. I had forgotten my plans, his being so much more paramount. My eyes glance up towards Emmett's room, and he follows my gaze. He gives me a look of mock anger.
"I thought we were going to wait to paint. You said we could flip a coin between office and game room," he chides. I open my mouth and all the words I had carefully planned exit the room. So typical. Can't I be eloquent just once? Just one time, say all the right things at the right time?
Edward's eyes twinkle with amusement, and probably some sort of proposal high as he makes his way towards the room. He's damn quick, and before I register what he's doing, he's halfway up the stairs. Good Lord, we are no good at waiting.
"Edward, just wait, hold on," I plead. He glances back at me, a smirk firmly in place. I'm scrambling up the stairs, almost falling several times. Note to self, wooden stairs and socks do not mix.
I'm barely to the top of the stairs when he throws the door open. At least that finally stops him. By the time I make it to him, his mouth is agape, his eyes moving frantically over the room. I slide an arm around his waist and lean into his chest. His heart beats against my ear.
"Surprise," I whisper. Now his eyes take me into their circuit. Still taking in the room, the white crib, and then me, over and over. A mild sense of panic settles over me. Maybe this was a bad idea. That moment downstairs, while unscripted, was perfect, and now I'm ruining it. With my overactive imagination and a crib.
"Bella," he whispers. "This is beautiful." I look up at him and attempt to smile. I look at the room and sigh raggedly. The butter yellow of the walls is soft, and the crib looks at home against the wall.
"I just thought, that maybe, you know," I sigh, not finding the words once again. He tilts my chin up with his finger, forcing me to look at him.
"Are you serious?" he asks. And then I go into panic mode. Of course he would think that this meant that I was already pregnant. What else would this mean? Other than I'm obviously out of my mind, and way off my bases when it comes to grand gestures.
"Oh love, no I mean, not right now. I'm sorry," I correct. And I feel like a jerk. Could I have screwed this up more? I bury my face in his shirt and feel the tears I so expertly warded off during the proposal burn my eyes.
"Hey," he coos. "Don't apologize. I don't think…I don't think there's anything I would love more." I turn my face up to him.
"Yeah? So you're in?" I ask. Because that was the idea behind this. That I was trying to tell him, show him, that I was in it for the long haul. That I want all the cheesy and stereotypical things with him. Well, maybe not a white picket fence, because they don't have those in the city, but everything else. Except maybe the dog.
And then it feels like a silly question. I remember the symbol of his love on my finger, and remember that he beat me to it. He made the gesture first.
"Pretty sure I just asked you to be my wife. So yeah, I'm in," he chuckles. I smile up at him hesitantly. This is a lot for one night. Babies, weddings, jewelry, it might be enough to force me into panic, but nothing like that can be found in me. Just a sense of calm, and love. So much love, that I can't believe there was a time when I thought I didn't know what it was.
I wrap myself up in him and finally feel like I can tie myself to another person, now that I've been untangled from myself. And this isn't a knot I ever want to be freed from.
***
There will probably be a few outtakes after this, so keep your eyes open for those.
One last review? For old times sake?