Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns all things Twilight. I just decided it was time to shake things up a bit in her characters' world. And I wanted a bitchy Bella, so here we go!

Oh, and all of the references used in this story in relation to the advertising and marketing company and accounts are only used here for entertainment purposes; no copyright infringement intended.

Thank you to the following people: Angelicwish, who has gone above and beyond the call of duty to provide this insecure writer with loads of feedback, advice, beta services and great conversations; Lita for coming back to me (*waves hi*) and to Jen – I'm so glad we reconnected! Love you! And thanks so much to Latchkey Wife, who was kind enough to pimp out this story on her bloggy blog. Go check it out – Ramblings of a Latchkey Wife. She makes me laugh my ass off on a regular basis.

.com/ And also go to – awesome site!

In case any of you are wondering, here are some fics that are completely devastating me right now (please go check them out on FanFiction) – Expectations and Other Moving Pieces by chrometurtle; Tre by my sweetie Megsly (update soon!); The Blessing and the Curse by The_Black_Arrow and The Misapprehension of Bella Swan (Regarding the Inferior Intellect of Hockey Whores) by hunterhunting. My list of favorites is getting ridiculous. Just read these. You're welcome.

Okay, so this will cover their weekend together, and then it's back to work!

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Oh, and one more thing before I leave you to it: I know there are a lot of you lurking out there, reading (thank you!) but not reviewing. I've begged and pleaded, so now it's time to bring out the big guns. To solicit more reviews from you lurkers, I will be offering a special prize at the end of this chapter. So read on and see the A/N at the end for more!

Chapter Twenty-four: Devil in a blue dress

"Ahem. See anything you like, Mr. Cullen," she teased.

"Lots, actually," I managed. My brain struggled to process this new vision of Bella. "Um…that's…very…nice."

"Nice?" she asked. "Just nice? Well, that simply won't do, Mr. Cullen."

EPOV

"Uh…"

"I mean…"

"Damn…

"Bella…"

"Shit…"

"Mr. Cullen, is that all you have to say for yourself?" Ohmygod I am actually fucking speechless. Uselessly I shrugged my shoulders and then nodded, hoping for my tongue to start working again. I stared like a damn deer in headlights as Bella crossed the room, stalking me.

"Well, we'll have to see what we can do to get that mouth of yours working again," she purred. Fuck. Once she reached the foot of my bed she climbed up and fucking crawled toward me. I wonder if you can die from an epic hard-on. I swallowed hard when her hands slid up my legs, coming to rest on the waist of my jeans. Her eyes never leaving mine, she painstakingly slipped each copper button through its hole until my fly was open. She hummed in appreciation and palmed my dick through my boxer briefs. Then she fisted my jeans in each hand and yanked.

Momentarily my dick rejoiced at being freed from the confines of my jeans, but Bella was a woman on a mission. So fast that she was a blur of skin and blue satin, she straddled my lap and began rocking her pelvis against mine. I nearly fucking came like that, still clad in my underwear, like an inexperienced teenager. The material rode up her thighs and pooled in front of her. It was obvious that she was bare under the nightie.

"Fuck Bella," I growled as she rocked over me. She silenced me with a rough kiss, pushing her tongue into my mouth like she was taking ownership of it. She does own me – every part of me. Her fingers thrust into my hair and tugged, and my hands grasped her waist, holding her to me. It was frantic, fast and devastating. And I wanted it all.

As if she were reading my mind, Bella rose up on her knees and pulled my boxers down my legs. I kicked them off and then she sat back down, her moist, intense heat directly on my aching cock. Her wetness slid perfectly against me and the sensation, zipping through my body like blue electric current, short-circuited my brain.

Shit. Calm the fuck down or you're not going to last long.

"Edward…you feel…so fucking good," she panted as she glided back and forth, up and down. I wasn't even inside her and I was close to coming. In retrospect, I blame the blue satin nightie mixed with the undeniable, raw sexiness that was Bella. I am one lucky sonofabitch.

Drowning in her, I watched as she gyrated: how the material looked like water as it flowed over her body; the graceful sweep of her hips as she teased; her supple breasts thrust into my face when she arched her back; her kiss-swollen, pouty lips and her wild, half-curled, half-tangled hair.

"Please Edward…" she whimpered, granting me control over her body with only two words. It was one of the things I loved about Bella: her eagerness to surrender. It utterly unraveled me. Quickly I wrapped my arm around her and flipped her onto her back. The nightie fluttered and settled on her stomach, exposing her completely.

Focus asshole. Do this nice and slow.

"Bella, you are stunning," I said, smoothing the fabric down and then reaching to caress her cheek with my fingertips. Tonight I refused to be rushed; I wanted to love Bella, not fuck her. "I adore you, you know. Now I want you to feel just how much."

As I studied her face, all of the fire and lust drained from her eyes, leaving only love and devotion. Her bottom lip quivered and she captured it between her teeth as a tear spilled from the corner of her eye, disappearing into her hair. I kissed the salty trail it left behind, whispering soothing words into her ear. Gently I lifted her off the bed and slipped the blue negligee over her head. With her finally naked beneath me, I kissed her slowly and let my hands wander across her silky skin.

Secretly I thrilled in the way Bella's body reacted to my touch -- a trail of goose bumps erupted in my wake -- and her moans and sighs urged me to continue. When I reached her thigh I bent her leg and hitched it over my hip, giving me access to her ass and forcing her wetness against me. My lips sought hers and for a while we simply lay together naked, kissing and touching each other. There was no rush. She was mine for the night.

I worshipped Bella with my lips and hands as I kissed and touched the parts of her that beckoned to me like the call of the Sirens: her silky hair, her shoulders and neck, the spot just behind her earlobes, the hollow of her throat, her breasts, slender waist and round hips. All of these kept me distracted from my ultimate goal; tonight, however, the diversion was welcomed. As I worked my way down the fire in her eyes returned; finally I could wait no longer and I slid a finger inside her.

She was so wet and ready for me; I groaned with the contact of hot wetness against the cooler length of my finger. Bella gasped when I added another, clutching at my chest and shoulders for leverage. Her back arched against my hand and her body shook with unmet desire. It was too much for me.

Removing my fingers, I waited until Bella's eyes snapped back to mine before silently putting them in my mouth to taste her. She groaned and watched as my eyes rolled back in my head. She tasted so fucking good. I needed to be inside her, and I positioned over her once more. With a desperate kiss, she pulled back and pleaded silently, and I happily gave her what she wanted -- what I wanted.

Bella whimpered when I pushed inside her and as we began our now-familiar rhythm there was no sound but that of our breathing and occasional moans and sighs. Writhing beneath me, she seemed to understand my silence and was equally quiet and focused. My eyes never left hers; her hands never left my face. Our union was fulfillment and completion made flesh, as it had been from the start -- but still distinct from all the other times.

Let me show you.

With each thrust I imagined imparting to Bella the depth of my love; my desire for her; the soul-crushing realization that I couldn't live in a world where she didn't exist. The acceptance that whatever we faced we would do it together; that I was connected with her in ways I had never experienced, and would never realize with anyone else. I was hers in every sense of the word. I needed her to feel what I could not express with words.

That as I filled her and she made me whole by taking me inside her, I was leaving traces of my thoughts behind for her subconscious to discover later. Each time I entered her, it knocked the breath from her lips and I could feel she was perilously close to the edge. To draw out the delicious torture I slowed my pace, and almost stilled completely when tears leaked again from her eyes. Concerned that maybe I was hurting her, I wiped them away with my thumbs and decided to break the peaceful silence.

"Bella, love, are you alright?"

She lifted her head to kiss me again, pressing her lips firmly against mine as if to comfort me, and quickly nodded her head.

"I just love you so much," she whispered, reaching for my hair and running her fingers through it affectionately. There was pain and longing in her eyes, even as she smiled, and I knew there was more. My heart instinctively clenched.

"I love you too – with all my heart," I said, kissing her.

"Edward…" she began, undeterred by my declaration. Obviously, there was something bothering her. I stilled my hips. "Please don't stop." I began moving inside her again very slowly.

"Edward, I can't lose you," she choked, another round of tears descending into her hair. "I need you too much; it scares me. I can't help myself."

"I need you too Bella," I said, my kiss punctuating my statement. "And you won't lose me. This? You and me? It's breathing, in and out, every day, until there's nothing. It's everything. You're everything. To me."

She said nothing, but nodded frantically and blinked back more tears. Then she kissed me and with a touch renewed the fire in my belly. My words gave me strength and I put them to use. We fell back into silence as Bella climaxed forcefully and cried out, her body going rigid as I moved a few more times and came with her.

***************

In the silence of the dark bedroom I listened as our hearts eventually slowed to an even thrumming, pulses no longer straining against arterial walls. When the sheen of now-cold sweat on her naked form made Bella shiver, I untangled my arms only long enough to reach for the white comforter and blankets. We lay together silently, a mess of arms and legs and skin-on-skin and in that moment I was completely content. Monday was an alien threat, a distant dark cloud on the horizon. It had no power over us here, in this room.

Bella was quiet, and I assumed she was asleep. When I traced a line down her arm, from her shoulder to her fingers, however, her quickening pulse gave her away. Suddenly she lifted herself off my chest and out of my embrace, pulling my discarded shirt off the floor. I watched as she slipped it over her head and slowly her naked form disappeared from sight. She smiled at me slightly, but it did not reach her eyes, and she silently padded away.

The bright light flicked on in the bathroom and then the door shut with a muffled click. My weary heart broke into a gallop for the umpteenth time since I'd met Isabella Swan, and with a groan I rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling and hoping I was just overreacting to her expression. I'm not overreacting, though. I know that fucking look.

After a few long minutes the toilet flushed and the door opened, and after a brief blinding light the room was bathed in inky blackness once more. Bella seemed to have trouble locating the bed, and I heard her stumble when she tripped over the articles of my clothing we had left in our wake. The mattress gave as she joined me on the bed and I was saddened to feel the material of my shirt between us as she resumed her previous position.

Neither one of us wanted to say a word, it seemed. Bella was obviously warring within herself; I was powerless to console her. Not that I hadn't tried numerous times before. By now this dance was familiar to me -- as familiar as the much more pleasing one we had just finished -- and I felt my optimism falter with the realization. When will she ever let herself go? Will she ever be able to simply be with me and enjoy it? What good is love if there's so much regret chained to it?

The tension in the room was suddenly palpable as we lay together. I refused to let this place be one associated with the angst that had become such a central character in our story. With determination brewing in my gut, I took a deep breath to brace myself for this uninvited conversation. But Bella cut me off, as if she read my mind.

"Edward, I'm so sorry. I don't mean to torture you," she whispered, propping herself up on her elbow in the dark. I could see through the curtains that dawn was fighting for dominance over the horizon, and Bella's form was slightly backlit against the window.

"God, and I do it without even realizing it," she exclaimed, slapping her free hand across her leg. "I'm so horrible at this. I'm all fear and loathing and stress and paranoia. I infuriate myself; I don't know how you put up with it."

"It's not without some difficulty," I admitted, shocked at my own honesty. If Bella was off-put by my statement, her dimly-lit face didn't reveal it. Instead she seemed to internalize the comment for a moment and then she forged on.

"I want to be good for you Edward. Really I do. And I don't want to drive you away," she said, trailing her finger across my jaw as it flexed. "These past few months have been…challenging. But I feel like they were all a precursor to something significant -- they were leading to this." As she spoke, she rested her hand over my heart, which promptly started skipping every few beats.

"Bella, why won't you let yourself be happy? It's not that difficult," I reasoned. "For once, throw aside your doubts and fears about what people might think of you. You deserve happiness. Please believe that. Focus on what you have; focus on me."

It was a plea for Bella to stop caring so much about what everyone else thought and said. This was about her inability to stop trying to control her destiny long enough to enjoy the journey. I hated to see her wasting herself, crippled by her own success and held captive by her insecurities.

She sighed and at first said nothing; her fingers played lightly with the chest hair under her hand. Come on baby. Stay with me.

"It is difficult for me Edward; don't you see that?" she asked, her voice desperate. "Do you think I want to make this hard on us both? There's nothing I want more in this world than to love you without consequence. Please know that I'm trying."

In the grey-gold light of the early morning I could see her face now, still partially hidden in shadow, but clearer than before. It was pained and hungry for acceptance. I had vowed to grant her the time and space she needed, and I would continue to do so. Not that it wasn't exhausting.

"I know you're trying, love," I said soothingly, resting my hand over hers. "Just keep talking to me, okay? It will get easier. And we will figure it out.

"I have plans for us this weekend, you know."

I hadn't planned to change the subject, but it eased the heavy air in the room somewhat when I saw her smile. Curiosity lit her features as she leaned over me, her hair falling around us. She kissed me with purpose and momentarily I forgot what my plan was, exactly.

"So…what are you planning, Mr. Cullen?"

"Some quality alone time, just me and you," I said, holding her to my side. "I thought I'd cook you dinner tonight and we could just relax. On Sunday, maybe go for a walk or into the city after breakfast. Assuming you're willing to be my prisoner for the weekend."

Bella looked like she was pondering my invitation, playfully tugging on a strand of her hair and chewing on her bottom lip while her eyes scanned the ceiling. She was toying with me. With one hand wrapped around both of her wrists and the other on her back, I spun her onto the bed and against the pillows. She giggled and squirmed, trying to free herself from my grasp. After our laughter quieted I watched Bella take a steadying breath.

"Edward, I'm yours for the weekend," she said with a smile. "I'm your willing prisoner. Do with me what you will." Her eyes darkened considerably when the truth of her own words filtered through her brain. My free hand skimmed her side and came to rest against her neck.

"Bella, tell me you're mine again," I whispered, surprised at my own need for reassurance. The words had sounded like bells on Christmas morning, and I craved to hear them once more.

"I'm yours, Edward," she murmured. "Always."

Her last word crushed me like an anvil on my chest; suddenly the thin cotton barrier of my shirt was too much distance, as frustrating as a wall separating us. I released her wrists and with both hands quickly slipped the shirt over her head. Surprise registered across her face when she realized my intentions, but the look was quickly overshadowed by lust.

"Good. I'm going to endeavor to remind you of that every day," I said, running my hands down her naked form and pressing myself against her. As Bella moaned I kissed her. We were oblivious to the sunshine trying like hell to force its way into my bedroom.

****************

We finally got out of bed around noon; for once Bella didn't seem driven to accomplish any monumental tasks by some pre-determined hour of the day. I made us scrambled eggs, homefries and toast, which Bella wolfed down in record time. And she was oddly at ease in my home, lounging on the couch in my thermal and sipping her coffee.

"Edward, you have a wonderful home," she said to me when I brought her the second cup. "I mean it; it's a perfect little house."

"Thanks," I said quietly. "It's not the palatial estate I'd always hoped for, but it's home." Bella laughed at my sarcasm and I sat down next to her.

"So what do you want to do today?" I asked her. No sooner had I finished my sentence when a loud rumble of thunder alerted me that we would not be doing anything outdoors. "Well, that narrows it down a bit."

Bella scooted over so that she was nestled against my chest, and said, "Why don't we do this? It's been ages since I did nothing on a Saturday."

"Sounds like a great idea," I said, flipping on the TV.

Later that night, as promised, I made Bella dinner. She watched me for a while from her perch on the edge of the counter (I had refused help), sipping from her glass of wine. My kitchen was comfortable, and I loved cooking in it. I moved from the center island to the stove and back again with ease; the smile on Bella's face as I peeked at her every once in a while was approving.

"I love to watch you cook, Edward," she said, crossing her legs at the ankle and swinging them gently against the lower cabinets. "You're a natural. What recipe are you working from? It smells delicious!"

Smiling, I shook my head, instead reaching for the wooden spoon in the pot I had on the stove. Scooping a small amount of the liquid, I blew on it and brought it to her lips, saying only, "Taste."

"I never use recipes," I admitted as she moaned in enjoyment of the sauce.

"No recipes? Ever?" She seemed to ponder this bit of incredulity.

"Nope," I confirmed, sampling the sauce myself. It tasted damn good. "I just let it happen…organically."

Bella snickered at my choice of words and kitchen bravado.

"So are you going to tell me what you're making then, master chef?"

"It's my variation on chicken marsala," I offered. "Not quite as salty, and with Kalamata olives. The olives add the saltiness and an extra little kick, I think. It's one of my favorites."

After she'd finished her first glass of wine, I gently shooed Bella out of the kitchen with a kiss and a refilled glass. She laughed but accepted my explanation of wanting to set the table and finish the meal to make our dinner date authentic. With her out of the room I finished the chicken, cooked the pasta and made a tossed salad with almonds and dried cranberries. Then I located a tablecloth, candles and candlesticks and set the table.

I found Bella curled up on the sofa in front of the fire, her knees tucked against her chest. She absentmindedly stared into the flames and sipped her wine, and for a moment I just watched her. She seemed completely relaxed.

"Bella, love, dinner's ready," I said quietly, hating to disturb the quiet calm in the room. As if in a trance, she blinked a few times and then turned to smile at me. I reached for her hand and lifted her off the couch, planting a kiss on her nose.

"Mmm…it smells wonderful Edward," she said as we entered the kitchen. The only light in the kitchen came from the candles; Bella gasped when her gaze fell upon the table. "You are too much. This is…perfect." She reached up and kissed me slowly, her lips sweet from the wine.

Dinner with Bella this time was an entirely new experience; I'd never heard so much culinary-induced moaning in my life, and the sounds Bella emitted both drove me wild with lust and made me laugh. This woman obviously enjoyed my cooking.

"Edward, that was…orgasmic," she said finally with a giggle. "That was absolutely the best meal I have ever eaten. Thank you so much."

"No, thank you. I've never enjoyed watching someone eat before," I said with a smirk and a chuckle. Truly, it was endearing. Just another thing I now loved about her. We sat in near silence for a few minutes, letting our meals settle and finishing the wine. It was so comfortable that it seemed we'd been doing this for years. Then I rose and cleared the table, protesting again when Bella offered to help me load the plates into the dishwasher. Insistent on washing the larger dishes, however, I let Bella start on the pots and I dried them. Once more we fell into an easy rhythm, her washing and me drying and putting them away.

How had she become so essential to my life? How did something as simple as washing dishes together give meaning to our relationship? There were no answers, but undoubtedly I knew this woman was revealing pieces of herself that she might never have shared with anyone else; yes, even doing this together seemed special in its own right. Damn, I'm such a girl.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked as she handed me the last pot lid. "Four hands are much better than two. I like washing dishes, actually; it relaxes me."

"Is there a domestic goddess hidden under the suit?" I asked playfully. I couldn't resist; part of me couldn't imagine Bella in her kitchen, making meals and baking pies. The two images – work Bella and home Bella – just did not mesh. "You enjoy doing dishes…anything else?"

She deliberated for a few moments, distractedly playing with a lock of hair, and then Bella's eyes found mine again and she smiled knowingly.

"I have this…secret infatuation," she began and then paused to gauge my reaction before proceeding "…with making pizza. Buffalo chicken pizza, to be specific. And bacon and black olive. And Greek. Every Friday night, I make pizzas for the girls and we have beer and watch old movies."

To say I was surprised by her "secret food obsession" would have been a gross understatement. What should I expect, though, after all this time? I think I fell in love with her all over again. Bella. With beer…and homemade pizza, hanging with the girls.

"Edward, say something!" Her urgent request pulled me away from visions of Bella, beer and pizza.

"Oh. Sorry! I was fantasizing about all of that," I admitted unabashedly. "And I was wondering when you'll be making me some pizza!"

Bella giggled at my confession and reached up on her toes to kiss me. I wrapped my arms around her and lifted her off her feet, savoring the taste of her lips and the smell of her hair and it tumbled around us.

"How does next weekend sound?"

Bella was asking me to her place next weekend – for pizza. She was offering to make me dinner, and show me her little corner of the world. This was a big deal. I knew this. We settled on Friday night and Bella assured me that Alice, Rose and Esme wouldn't mind taking a rain check, just this once. Unwilling to piss the ladies off, however, I offered to make it a group pizza and beer night if Bella preferred. I can share.

Turning the kitchen lights off, I led Bella back to the living room couch. While I watched the news, she snuggled into my side with her legs draped over my lap. Five or ten minutes in, Bella's breathing evened out and her body relaxed against mine. Once I was briefed on what was going on in the world, I clicked off the TV and sat in the dark, the only light coming from the streetlight that shone through the picture window. Listening to Bella's slow, rhythmic breaths soothed me and I started to nod off.

Gently I wrapped one arm around Bella's back and the other under her legs, and lifted us both off the couch. Her arms wound around my neck but otherwise she didn't stir as I made my way upstairs. Unsure of whether to wake her, instead I opted to slip off her flat shoes and leave her in her leggings and oversized shirt. It seemed comfortable to sleep in, I reasoned.

After undressing and brushing my teeth I climbed into my bed and molded myself to her sleeping form. I wrapped one arm around her and hugged her against me, bringing us even closer. Bella snaked one hand behind her and cupped my face against her palm.

"Goodnight Edward," she whispered into the dark. "I love you."

"Good night love," I replied, kissing her wrist.

****************

Sunday was a great day; Bella and I went for a walk through my neighborhood and then we shopped in one of the open-air markets for produce and fresh meat. The sun was uncharacteristically cooperative; it felt good to feel the warmth on my face and shoulders as we walked. Bella was just as cheery and held my hand as she suggested food options.

"Do you like Bosc pears Edward?" she asked. I nodded and she released my hand as she began filling the basket with the sweet brown fruit. "How about apples? Strawberries?"

"Yes to the apples and definitely to the strawberries," I answered, an idea forming in my mind. Bella. Berries. Yum.

As she and I walked through the market, we talked about lots of different things; strangely, Bella seemed very open to discussion. We talked a bit more about my family -- Carlisle and my parents, how we were when we were kids, about the piano and my playing. We chatted about high school and college and the stupid things we did when we were younger: Bella got a nose ring as soon as she'd turned 18; I'd decided to shave my head and start a rock band when I was in high school. Yep. Such a rebel.

"Bella, why don't you ever talk about your folks," I asked as we browsed the vegetable stands. "I know you told me a little about them, but you never mention them." She kept walking and gazing at the brightly hued vegetables -- peppers, eggplant, broccoli, fresh herbs -- as if they had asked the question.

"I don't know," she began. "What's there to say? They separated when I was little and for more than 10 years I got shipped from one house to the other. In the summer, I'd go visit my dad in Forks; during the school year I lived in Phoenix with my mom. She got remarried when I was a senior in high school and I decided I'd had enough. I moved in with my dad and finished high school there."

For a moment I was stunned by the torrent of words flowing from Bella's mouth. This was all new to me, and damn it if I was going to mess this up with my mouth. I simply nodded and she continued.

"Me and my dad are very similar; we're both pretty stoic people," she said wistfully. "My mother is very childish and lives in the moment. I'm sure you know I'm not like that. And even though my dad and I didn't always have hours-long conversations about the meaning of life, we just got each other, you know?

"He's a rock," Bella added, and I could have sworn she blinked back tears. "Charlie's the chief of police in Forks. Actually, I think he's planning to retire in a few years. Knowing him, though, he'll put it off. He loves what he does."

I couldn't believe she was just pouring her heart to me like this. And it hadn't been forced or alcohol or rage-induced. For a minute or two, I just took it all in, and couldn't help but be proud of her.

"Thank you," I said simply in reply.

"For what?"

"For sharing…all of this…with me," I answered. Right there, among the cabbage and lettuce, I pulled Bella into a hug and kissed her with all my might. If anyone cared to comment on the two people making out in the market, they could go ahead; I didn't give a shit. Once again, this woman had amazed me, and shown me that her heart was real, beating and vast.

"I love you," she said when I released her. "For letting me be myself. For letting me meet you halfway."

We walked in silence for a while; Bella stopped occasionally to smell oranges or shake the small seedless watermelons. I had no idea what squeezing a grapefruit could prove, but she did that too. I watched, rapt as always.

"Bella? Tonight, if you'd like, I'll play for you."

As soon as the words leapt from my lips my heart was in my throat. Had I just offered to play for her? What the fuck was I thinking? I'd never played for anyone, other than the occasional -- and painful -- school recitals growing up. And I'd only done those for my mother. My mind flashed back to our plane ride to Chicago and my admission to her about my composing. Did I dare? It wasn't finished and was extremely rough in design, but maybe I could play it for her. It was for her anyways.

"Oh, I'd like that so much Edward," she said in a hushed and breathy voice. It seemed to skip across my lips and trickled down my spin, eliciting a shiver as it went. It was the sweetest answer I could've hoped for. "Thank you."

The two of us unpacked my groceries when we returned; Bella busied herself with putting the produce in the refrigerator while I put everything else away in its proper place. After making us big salads for dinner -- a chick meal, I decided -- I led her upstairs to my study.

Bella's gaze fell immediately on the ebony instrument and when I sat down on the bench and lifted the piano lid she audibly gasped. I turned to her, concerned there was something wrong, and when our eyes met, hers were wide and glassy.

"Are you alright love," I asked her. She bit her lip and nodded. She crossed the room and stood next to me. Bella seemed to be processing the combination of me and the piano. If she hadn't looked so serious, I might have chuckled.

"I'm sorry Edward," she whispered. "I've just never seen…just the sight of you…this isn't coming out right." She tugged a strand of hair hanging from her ponytail and started chewing on her lip again. "You look so perfect sitting there. It's like you were made to sit at this piano."

No one had ever described it to me like that. I'd always liked to think I was good at playing and it had always been like therapy. But since I'd never had a private audience, I'd never heard someone describe the scene. It was strangely satisfying to see Bella so affected by me. And I haven't even touched the keys.

Taking her hand, I kissed her wrist and motioned for her to sit in the chaise -- an antique that had been my mother's -- and once she was comfortable I took one more glance at her and then turned my attention to the 88 keys before me.

The world faded away and only the black and white, yin and yang of the wooden keys were visible as I began to play. I didn't have sheet music for the complex lullaby; I didn't need it. The melody served as the soundtrack to my dreams and even some of my waking moments. Its essence coursed through my veins along with my blood and flowed through my fingertips and onto the cool, polished keys. My fingers moved quickly and my body rocked back and forth as needed. I'd utilized all seven octaves for this piece -- the multifaceted inspiration warranted an intricate theme song, I reasoned.

When the last notes lingered and then faded into the walls of the small space, it was quiet. With my head bowed, both with the uncertainty of Bella's reaction and from the exhaustion of playing, I sat on the bench waiting for something. Anything. And then I heard a noise and turned my head toward the source.

Bella was crying. My heart sank at the sight of her tears, big and plentiful, and my body moved on its own, off the bench and to her side. Streaks of moisture paved their way down her cheeks and dripped off her jaw, leaving dark spots on her turtleneck. Words failed me; I had put them all into the music, so I waited.

"Edward," she began, sniffling loudly and grasping my hands in her lap. "That was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard." She stared at my fingers wrapped in her own, and then lifted them to her lips. Kissing each one of them reverently, she looked at me again with her big, brown eyes.

"What do you call it," she asked, kissing my pinky.

"'Bella's Lullaby,'" I confessed. The clock on the bookshelf seemed to stop ticking in anticipation of her response. Her eyes filled up once more and she smiled.

"Thank you. I couldn't have asked for a better gift."

A/N: Awww…did you like that? It made me all warm and fuzzy and sniffly just writing it. These two needed some happy times, don't you think? And I hope I succeeded in giving it to them! Please tell me what you thought.

I think next chapter we're going to go back to Bella. Maybe her head's not so crowded and angst-filled after this weekend. Here's to hoping!

Please leave reviews! I love them like Edward's piano playing. (And let's face it, I'm totally picturing Rob. Damn it.)

Now for the reward. When I reach 550 reviews, I will write a one-shot of epic lemony proportions…and I will let YOU choose the topic. Leave your suggestion along with your review, and let your imagination run wild!