Bella

In the same moment that I open my eyes, I slam them shut again. It's far, far too bright in the room, too quiet and too loud all at once. Too quiet because I don't hear Edward's breathing or light snoring beside me. Too loud because of the blood rushing in my ears. I smack my lips a few times. Ugh. Cotton mouth. Rolling over to my right side, I peek at the clock.

Twelve o'clock? As in noon?! I bolt upright in bed, groaning at the pressure in my head, and then fall back against the pillow again. What the hell did I do last night?

I seem to remember being out with the girls and having a wonderful time, but I'm not so sure about the whole getting home part. The cogs in my pounding brain slowly whir to life, and the events of the night come to me in snippets. I remember being in the last club and Edward putting his arms around me. I danced with him, and he toted me to the car like a sack of potatoes.

Ah, the ride home. I snicker as I remember my escapades in the car. My hands fly to my head; giggling does not feel good. Groaning, I sit up again—slowly this time. The smell of coffee hangs in the air, joined by another heavenly scent. My stomach rumbles and lurches, and I make it to the bathroom just in time, reminding me of why I don't do what I did last night often. After brushing my teeth and downing a few ibuprofen, I shuffle to the kitchen, where Edward is leaning against the counter and sipping coffee.

"There's the party girl," he says a little too loudly for my taste.

"Shh," I beg as I fall into his waiting arms.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I was run over by a Mack truck and then beat with a metal baseball bat while someone poured whiskey down my throat."

"Hmm. Sounds like a good time. Hungry?"

"Nooo. Coffee smells good, though."

He fills a mug for me, and my stomach grumbles again. I doubt there's much left in there, but I'm not so sure.

"I made you a hangover breakfast."

"The words hangover and breakfast don't seem to go together all that well."

"Grease, baby. The perfect hangover cure. Eggs, bacon, sausage, and hash browns. Here, start with a piece of toast." He holds the piece of buttery bread out to me, and I regard it with disdain. "Try it."

I take it and tentatively nibble at a corner, swallowing a sip of coffee afterward. When I'm certain I can keep it down, I finish it off quickly.

"Here." He hands me a plate of food. "Let's eat in the living room."

We bring the dishes to the coffee table and sit down to dig in. "Thank you for breakfast," I say, swallowing a mouthful of runny eggs.

"You're welcome. Ready for tonight?"

I stop to think for a minute and then shrug. I almost forgot about the gallery opening I helped plan. "I think so. If I'm not ready by now, I don't think I'll ever be. Mmm, maple sausage. This is so good, Edward."

"Glad you like it." After a moment of silent chewing, he speaks up again. "Have you given any thought to what you'd like for Christmas?"

"No. The trip to Chicago is enough of a gift for me."

"What if I wanted to get you something else?"

"I really haven't thought about it. What about you?"

"I have all I need with you." He pats the back of my hand and kisses my cheek.

I snort at his corny ways. "You're so cheesy."

"Well, it's true."

But I know what he means. It seems like my quota for happiness has been met for the year—like it would be selfish to want anything else. I realize with a modicum of surprise that our six-month anniversary is coming up. No sooner does the thought enter my head than Edward voices the same fact.

"Do you realize we've been together for six months now?" he asks.

"I was just thinking that. Time flies, huh?"

"It does. So did you have fun last night?"

"Yeah, what I can remember of it was fun."

"You don't remember?"

"I remember some things. Like the beginning of the night, you guys showing up at the last place, and then the drive home…" I trail off with a smirk.

"Mmm," he says, waggling his eyebrows. "That's my favorite part."

"I bet. I don't remember much after that."

"No? Uh…well, we started to…you know. And you got sick."

"Oh, no. I didn't barf on you, did I?"

"No. It was a near miss."

I drop my face into my hands. "How embarrassing."

"The funny part is I thought you were moaning because it felt good. You kept saying my name. I thought you were just really into it. Then I looked up and saw your face and grabbed the trashcan just in time."

His words bring back a flicker of memory: Edward pinning me up against the wall with his hands and tongue all over me, him helping me clean up and dress, and then putting me to bed. My face burns, and I know it's bright red. "I'm so sorry, Edward. God, I'm so embarrassed."

"There's no reason to be sorry. And you shouldn't be embarrassed. You were a complete lady about it."

"There's nothing ladylike about almost puking on your boyfriend."

He throws his head back and laughs. "But you didn't. It's fine. You had fun. And you were funny."

"Funny?" I repeat, though I know I can get a little mouthy when I imbibe.

"I stood watching you when we first got there, and you elbowed a few guys who got too close. Then I had to carry you out of the place over my shoulder while you shouted at people. And you weren't all that eloquent. But you…" He trails off and tries to hide a smile. "You kept calling me your future husband."

The blush that was beginning to fade is now back in full force. "I called you what now?"

"You heard me." He pauses, waiting to see if I'll react, but I don't. "I liked it," he says in a low, velvety voice.

I swallow a huge gulp of water, stalling for time. "You did?"

"Yeah." He leans in closer, eyes half closed. "I liked it a lot."

The phone rings some time later as I'm cleaning the kitchen to make up for Edward's grand attempt at curing my hangover. The display flashes an unfamiliar number, and I debate answering it, but my curiosity wins out in the end.

"Hello?"

"Bells, it's your old man."

"Oh, hi, Charl—er, Dad. You sound much better."

"I feel a little better." He clears his throat after a minute of silence. "I just wanted to wish you luck on your art show tonight."

I'm taken aback at this seemingly casual notion. "Um, thanks Dad. Everything's all set up, so it should be relatively stress-free."

"That's good."

"Yeah." There's another awkward pause. "So, have they told you how long you'll have to stay in the hospital?"

"The doctor said it'll be another few days." It's all the information he offers and all I really expect. Charlie's never been one for sharing weaknesses.

"Well, I'll come by and see you tomorrow. If you'd like, that is. I could bring you some soup or something."

"That would be great, kid. I just—" He clears his throat again. "I want to keep the lines of communication open. I don't want to lose you again."

My throat constricts, and I blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay. "Me too."

When our conversation ends and the kitchen is spotless, I take my laptop and sit down on the couch next to Edward. He looks up from his football game and puts his arm around me.

"What's up?" he asks, kissing my temple. "Did I hear you talking to your dad?"

"Yeah. He called to wish me luck tonight. I told him I'd bring him some soup tomorrow, so I'm researching diet restrictions for heart patients."

Edward gazes at me with a certain softness. "You have such a good heart. I hope you don't ever doubt that."

He always knows exactly what I need. The guilt over not speaking to my dad for so long has crept back up on me, and I know he suspected as much. I nod and whisper my thanks.

When my research was complete, I hit the print button and went into the studio to collect my documents.

What now? I wonder as I stand in the middle of the room. It's been a very long time since I've had so much free time on my hands. After the gallery opening tonight, I only have two months of my internship left. Of course, two of those weeks will be spent in Chicago with Edward's family. I'm admittedly still nervous about that.

As though he can read my mind, Edward wanders into the studio and asks what I'm thinking about.

"Just wondering how I'm going to fill my time once my internship ends. If they don't ask me to stay on, I mean."

"Hmm," he murmurs in my ear. "I can think of a few ways."

"Of course you can. But what am I going to do when you have to be at the store?"

He shrugs and turns me around to face him. "You can come with me."

"You're going to get sick of me."

"Never."

"You will. You don't know how ornery I can be when I'm bored."

"I'll keep you busy. I promise." He begins to trail kisses down my neck, but I laugh and push him away.

"Whoa there, tiger. I think I'm a little worn out. And I need to make a trip to the grocery store." I wave the printed list of approved foods in front of his face.

"Want me to come with?"

I shrug. "You don't have to. Finish your football game."

"You sure?"

"Of course. I'm gonna call Alice and see if she needs to do any shopping. I've really been neglecting my friends."

"Okay. I love you. I'll miss you."

He wraps me in a hug and lifts me so my toes dangle just above the floor. "I'll be gone for maybe a couple of hours," I say with a laugh.

"So? Any amount of time apart from you is too much."

"And the King of Cheese makes his reappearance."

"What can I say? You bring out the corny side in me. And something else that rhymes with corny."

I laugh again and smack him on the chest. "You're bad."

Thirty minutes later, I walk into the grocery store to find Alice waiting for me just inside.

"How's your head?" she asks as we get our shopping carts.

"It's fine now," I tell her. "Edward made a bunch of greasy food. He called it the perfect hangover cure."

"That's funny. Jasper must've learned that from him. Or vice versa."

"You're feeling okay, then?"

"Totally fine. How did we get so lucky to find such perfect guys?"

I snort. "They aren't perfect, Alice. You can't put Jasper on a pedestal like that."

"Well, why the hell not?" she asks, propping a hand on her hip and leaning against her cart.

"Because he'll be knocked off in no time," I say, examining a carton of low-sodium chicken broth. "If you don't expect some flaws, you'll be disappointed when you find one. Then you'll wonder if you even knew him at all in the first place."

Alice sighs. "She speaks from experience, folks."

"Speaking of Jasper, what's he up to today?"

"He had some mystery errand to run. When I left, he was calling Edward to ask him to go with him."

"Mystery errand?" I ask with a cocked eyebrow.

"Don't ask me. I haven't the foggiest. When are you leaving for Chicago?"

"The twenty-third."

"So you won't be here for Christmas Eve. Have you told Charlie yet?"

"We just started talking again. Our plans were already made before he got sick."

"Well, I'm glad you're at least talking again."

"I'm bringing him some soup tomorrow. Hospital food is gross."

"Bleh. Are you nervous?"

"About taking soup to my dad?"

"No, silly, about meeting Edward's family."

"Yeah," I admit with a sigh. "But I've spoken with his parents on the phone before, and they seem really nice."

"It'll be great, Bells. They're going to love you. I've spoken to Jasper's parents a few times. I'm excited to meet them."

"When do you leave for Texas?"

"We're spending Christmas day with my folks and leaving the next day."

We fill the rest of our shopping trip with talk of the night before, sharing what we each could remember and speculating about what the guys' mystery errand could be. When our grocery bags are tucked away into our respective cars, we hug again.

"I'll see you tonight." She blows an air kiss and ducks into her little old BMW.

Edward's not back by the time I get home, so I put away the groceries and collapse onto the couch and turn on the TV. The next thing I know, Edward's waking me up.

"Hey, babe," he says softly. "Have a nice nap?"

"What time is it?"

"Four-fifteen."

"Oh, crap! I've got to get ready."

"What time do you have to be there?" he asks as he followed me to the bedroom.

"Five. It starts at seven, so you can either come with me or meet me there later."

"I'll come with you."

I dress quickly in a knee-length, black wrap dress and red heels, put on some makeup, and am ready in twenty minutes.

When I go back into the living room, Edward's already there waiting on me in a pair of charcoal pants, which were are just fitted enough to be damned sexy, and a button-down. On his feet are his black-and-white Chuck Taylors. He cocks his perfect crooked grin at me when I giggle. "They give me some street cred, right? I mean, it is an art show. They'll think I'm cool, right?"

"They won't be looking at your feet in those pants, Edward." I run my fingers down his chest to the low waistband. "Are these new?"

"Do you like them?"

"Very much. They show off your…assets."

"I'm liking this dress on you, too," he says as he looks down into my cleavage. "I love those sexy little dresses you wear, but this is sort of…sexy librarian."

"Sexy librarian fantasy. I'll keep that in mind."

At the gallery later, we wander around checking out the artist's paintings and sculpture. I tell Edward a little about each piece, and we move into the next room, where there's a smaller show juried by the visiting artist to complement her own work. Hanging in the middle of a bright white wall is my painting—the one I submitted for a different show.

"What—"

My boss, Kate, appears next to me and links her arm with mine. "Surprised?"

"Uh…flabbergasted. What's this doing here?"

"It was set aside for the curator of the next exhibition, but Gustavo liked it so much, he wanted to hang it for this one. I wasn't sure, but I took a chance—"

"Oh." I stare at my painting, which stands out beautifully under the strategic lighting against the stark white.

"Is it?" she asks hesitantly.

"Huh?"

"Okay? Is it okay that I agreed to hang it?"

I snap out of my shocked daze and throw my arms around her. "It's more than okay. Oh, my god. I'm honored that Gustavo liked it so much."

"He really did. And this will look great on your resumé."

"I don't even care about my resumé right now. I'm just…insanely flattered."

Kate pats my arm and tells me to enjoy myself before walking away to help the caterer.

I turn to Edward, who's beaming, looking like he's never been prouder of me.

"Can you believe this?" I ask, having a hard time keeping myself from shouting to everyone in the gallery that this is my work. "I'm sort of in shock."

"It's amazing, Bella. Yours is the best one here."

I elbow him and laugh. "You haven't even seen them all."

"I know what I like," he answers with a grin.

"This is so exciting!" Alice says when I tell her about my painting. "Don't tell me which one is yours. I want to guess."

"Hey, Bella," Jasper says, putting an arm around my shoulders. "Congratulations."

Edward and I follow them as Jasper and Alice try to deduce which piece is mine. After about ten minutes, Emmett and Rose join us.

"I found it!" Alice declares. "This is definitely yours, Bella. It's the prettiest one."

"It's abstract. How 'pretty' can it be?" I ask good-naturedly.

Edward pulls me to his side while our friends chat and examine, tilting their heads and murmuring to one another. "Why are you being so modest? It really is the best painting in the room," he says.

"I think you're a little biased."

"I'd pay to hang it over my fireplace."

"Good thing you don't have to. If you really want it, we can just…exchange favors."

He almost spews a mouthful of wine in his laughing fit. "You're in trouble now," he says, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin. "And if I get to pay in those types of favors, then I'll definitely hang it over my fireplace. It's a win-win situation."

Our friends rejoin us and gush and fawn over me, which makes me a bit uncomfortable.

"Get used to it," says Kate when she comes over to meet everyone. "I have a feeling you're going to be getting this kind of attention a lot more in the future."

We decide on a late group dinner after the show. It's not often that all of us are able to get together, and twice in one weekend is practically unheard of.

"Are you excited for your trip to Chicago?" Rose asks me after we order our food.

"Yeah," I say. "A little nervous, though."

"It'll be fine. Wonderful. The first time I met Emmett's parents, I thought I was going to throw up from nerves. But it turned out great. They loved me, and I know Edward's parents are going to love you."

Once dinner is finished, bills are paid, and wine bottles are drained, we part ways. I'm so full of love and pride that I feel like I might burst. An image of my chest bursting open and little confetti hearts raining down infiltrates my mind, and I giggle out loud.

"What's so funny over there?" Edward asks as he maneuvers the car through the streets, his hand on my bare knee.

"Just a weird picture in my head," I tell him. "Now that I know you're so good at keeping secrets from me, I guess I'll never know what today's mystery errand was with Jasper?"

"Mystery errand?"

"Don't play innocent. Alice said Jasper wouldn't tell her where you two were going."

"He needed help picking out Alice's Christmas present."

"And he asked you? He could've come to me for advice."

"Since when can you keep anything from Alice?" he asks, trademark crooked grin in place.

"You're right. On that note, you never told me what you want for Christmas."

"All I want for Christmas is you," he croons, making Mariah Carey's song way better.

"Edward."

"Bella."

"Can't you think of anything you want?"

"I honestly can't think of a single thing. I have more than I ever imagined right now."

"That makes it kind of hard on me, you know."

He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. I've long since learned the meaning of that particular look. "I've got something that'll be hard on you in about thirty seconds."

And there it is.

I laugh in spite of myself as Edward whips the car into the parking lot, pulls me out of the car, and leads me inside to the elevator, where he pushes me up against the wall and kisses me soundly.

"Do you know how proud I am of you, Bella?" he says suddenly.

I shake my head, dazed and left hanging.

"I am. Even in the short six months we've been together, you've come such a long way." The moment is too heavy, so I give him a taste of his own medicine.

I grin slyly at him, trying to imitate his sex gaze. "Oh, someone's going to be coming a long way shortly."

He blinks twice, and his eyes grow heavy and dark with lust. The elevator doors ding and slide open, and I push my way past him and run to unlock the front door. Before I can even get the door open, he pulls the strings of my wrap dress, the front falling open and exposing my lacy undergarments. He groans and pushes me inside the apartment, slamming the door and leading me to the living room.

I let the wrap dress slide down my body to the floor, and his hands go straight to my lace-covered breasts.

"Couch sex?" he murmurs as he attaches his lips to my neck.

"Couch sex."