Chapter Two

BPOV:

The sun streamed in though my window, waking me up at the ungodly hour of freaking six in the morning. I threw the blanket over my head, trying to block out the offending light, but my attempts were in vain. Giving in to the inevitable, I stretched and made a mental list of things I needed to get done for the day. I really wasn't planning on getting up though.

I mean, come on, what self-employed person wants to get out of bed at seven in the morning?

Maybe today I would just lie in bed and watch Mystery Diagnosis. Yep, that sounded like a good plan.

I stretched, staring up at the ceiling. I turned to get into a fetal position again when I felt something wet on my leg. Andy.

Andy, my dog, my true companion. There was no way I was staying in bed. Andy had an annoying licking behavior, but he was a cute little Katrina rescue dog that I couldn't live without now.

"Want some breakfast Ands?"

Woof.

I took that as a yes as I walked into the kitchen and started my gourmet coffee maker after pouring Andy his chow. When I sold my first book to Cheney and Cheney publishing, I splurged on a Krupps 1-cup coffee maker with all the bells and whistles. My mother called it impractical, my father called it genius.

My dad and I were a lot alike like that. Don't get me wrong, I love my mother, but I definitely considered myself a daddy's girl. I lived with my mother until I was twelve, and she never let me forget that I was a product of a drunken one-night stand.

Dad tried to do the right thing and marry my mother, but it didn't work out. They were too different, and they knew that they were better off as friends. It kinda worked out though in my favor; I had two Thanksgivings, two Christmas celebration . . . well you can see where I'm going with that. I always knew though that I was loved.

My mother settled in Phoenix after several years of living the nomadic lifestyle. Then, when I was twelve, she married a minor league baseball player, and shipped me off to live with my father.

That was fine with me.

I ran the carousel around, trying to decide on my flavor for the morning. Was it a mint chocolate chip or vanilla kind of day? Vanilla won out like it normally did. I poured the high-calorie sweetener into my coffee, knowing that I would be running in a couple of minutes.

I finished my coffee quickly and began to stretch for my morning run. I groaned as my neck cracked, working out the kinks that I had acquired during my marathon session of writing, hunched over. Charlie always said that bad posture was going to get me one day. Strapping on my tennis shoes, I walked into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. I went to unlock my door when my phone rang.

Who would call me at seven o'clock in the morning?

I reached for my cell, groaning at the ID. Angela. Knowing I could put it off any longer, I answered the call.

"Please tell me that you finished the chapter?"

I laughed at her hurriedness. Her husband had told me stories of the sweet, gentle, soft-spoken teenager that he had fallen in love with in high school. That certainly didn't fit her description now. Corporate America had a way of changing people, and luckily for the both of them, Ben seemed to love the hell-cat in his wife.

"Hello to you too Angela."

"Please Bitch, you know I don't have time for pleasantries. I'm up to my eyeballs in manuscripts and none of them are gold. Please tell me that you have something for me . . ."

"Whore, you know me better than to ask me that. Of course I got the chapter done. In fact, I was so inspired last night, I almost finished the entire thing. I mean, it's no Iliad, but it will suffice for right now." I always heard I was a good writer, but I always had some issue about my books. Angela kept telling me that my writing was great, but deep down, I was really worried about how is was going to be received. My first book, Promise of a New Life, was received well by both critics and readers and spent 32 weeks on the New York Times best sellers list. I was "an up and coming author."

But, you know what they say, when you are on top, the only way you can go is down. The pressure should have gotten to me, and it did on certain days, but for right now, I was fine.

"Please, home girl, Homer has nothing on you."

I laughed as I listened to Angela compared me to a literary great. I had studied the Iliad and the Odyssey when I was minored in English. I knew I was nowhere close to his caliber, but I appreciated her vote of confidence.

"So what kind of manuscripts have you seen?" I asked as I stretched more.

"Some person submitted a story about a doctor who is a Zombie. It was really quit laughable. I thought it would be a half-way decent read, but it was really very boring. So tell me what you decided on for Declan . . . does he pick Amy or Meredith?"

"Still trying to get me to give it away?"

"Come on, you know I'm going to find out anyway."

"He picks Meredith," I replied taking a sip of my water.

"Really, I wasn't expecting that. I mean, Meredith was so unpredictable, too moody. Amy was solid, always there for him!" Angela exclaimed.

"Sometimes, Ange, the most solid person isn't the best person," I told her, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. I had solid, I had the guy that was always there for me, or so I thought.

"Speaking from experience?"

"Well, we write about what we know," I told her. She knew about Mike. We were engaged and then one day, during a teacher's workday - which I had forgotten to tell Mike about - I decided to come home early and found him banging my maid-of-honor on my newly acquired leather sofa. I kicked his naked ass out of my apartment and sold the sofa on Craigslist the next day.

In the long run, I realized that I was living life the way I thought it should be lived. Graduate high school, go to college, meet man of my dreams (or so I thought), get married after graduation and have three children. It was supposed to be easy. If I could build a time machine and tell 18 year old Bella what 25 year old Bella knows know, I would tell her to seek out passion and romance. I settled for Mike, I settled for comfortable. After I realized what I was doing, I revamped everything. I quit my teaching job and decided to write full-time.

Don't get me wrong, I missed the kids, but I needed the change.

"Earth to Bella."

"Sorry Ange, I spaced out there. What was it you wanted?"

"I wanted to know when you wanted meet to give me your jump drive."

We would have done it via internet, but some things have a habit of getting hacked or leaked. There was no way I wanted my shit going all Midnight Sun on me. So, we opted to keep everything on physical hard drives instead of transmissions through the internet. It kept everything safe, for the most part.

"Well, I have a full day of running errands. I have to go to the grocery store, the ABC store for some Tequila, and the bank. We could probably meet tomorrow for brunch. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like a plan my friend."

I nodded, even though I knew that Angela couldn't see me.

"Have you made an appointment with Alice Cullen yet for your personal shopping experience?"

I groaned.

"I'll take the groaning as a negative."

"Angie, I hate shopping," I moaned into the phone. "I don't know why I can't just wear what I have on the book tour."

"Because Bells, you are an up and coming author and the new face of Cheney and Cheney Publishing. And as much as I hate to say the old cliché, it's true: image is everything. Besides, Ben and I are footing the bill for this. It isn't going to cost you anything."

I sighed, knowing that Angela had a good point. I couldn't very well go around wearing my Doc Martens and Vans for the book tour. I wrote about romance and intrigue, and I wasn't those two things by any stretch of the imagination. I was plain, the girl next door, nice and wholesome Isabella Swan, ex-kindergarten teacher. They wanted to turn me into this sexy-confident person.

"Please Bella." I heard Angela whine, hoping that I would change my mind.

"Fine, but I have a say in what stores we go into."

"Bella, I have known Alice for years. She isn't going to fly like that. She'll bring clothes to you in her boutique from all over," Angela explained. "You just have to trust her. She's trendy and gorgeous."

"Everything I'm not." I sighed, reaching for my coffee. "Look, I said I'll do it."

"Great, so you'll call Alice this afternoon."

It was a command, not a request. "Yeah, text me the number. I'll go on my morning run now. I'll call you later Angela."

"Have a great run chick."

I ended the call and strapped on my Nike Shox, heading for the four mile run I was planning on subjecting myself too.

I groaned. I hated going to the bank, especially during lunch time, but it was on the way home from my lunch meeting, and I needed to deposit the payment that Angela had supplied me with so I could pay the bills this month.

Okay, well, I really didn't need to deposit the money at that second, but it was on my way home, and I really didn't want to make another trip out, interrupting my date with Mystery Diagnosis.

I sighed, walking into the bank. There was a mob, but, what where you going to do. I filled out the bank deposit slip and stood behind some guy that smelled like tobacco and mint. Closet smoker. He was definitely trying to hid his habit from someone. Probably a wife that would leave him if he didn't quit his habit.

I let my mind run with the possibilities - of course it was a hazard of being a writer.

"I don't know why people let their kids run around without supervision." I heard the man mutter.

I looked up and saw a very familiar mop of bronze hair trying to reach for the lollipops.

Masen Roberts. That kid was always a sugar addict. I looked around for Gretchen, knowing that she was probably somewhere here, looking for him, when I saw the bowl getting ready to tip over.

It seemed like it happened in slow motion, the lollipop was securely in his hand, but the shards were everywhere. Masen looked like he was getting ready to cry.

"Masen? Masen Roberts?"

I called out to him confirming it was indeed the child I had previously taught in my last class. He was such a smart and adorable child, mixed with just a little bit of trouble. I saw the little boy getting ready to move, and I cautioned him to stay where he was at. I knew from experience that Masen was a brave boy, but foolish at times.

I reached him, scooping him up in my arms. I checked his legs and arms for any injuries, as he might have gotten some from the flying shards. Next thing I knew, tears were flowing from his eyes as he whimpered about people getting mad at him.

"Honey, it was an accident. No one is going to get mad at you. Are you here with your grandma?" I asked again looking for Gretchen Roberts. I knew that there was no way his mother, Jane, was going to be at the bank. From what I could remember, Jane all but relied on her mother for everything and wasn't a true mother to Masen.

When Masen uttered that he was here with his father, I was astounded. I thought that his father had died, or at least that was what Jane and Gretchen had said. I'm pretty sure that is what Masen believed as well.

Masen pointed over to a man, who was undeniably his father. He thanked me for helping his son, as my ovaries screamed at me. This would make some interesting material for my newest book series.

I introduced myself to his father, whom I learned was a doctor, and had custody of Masen, whose last name was now Cullen. I was genuinely happy for him. Masen seemed happier, lighter, no doubt all because of this god-like man who was standing next to me.

Dr. Edward Cullen was the epitome of the image of God. When God created man, he should have made all of them look like him. His eyes were an intriguing almond shape with sea-green hues. He had a strong jaw line which I just wanted to lick. I could tell that he was well-defined underneath the clothes that he wore. There was no way that a man could wear clothes that well without having a nice body underneath.

Stop it Bella, this is your former child's parent.

I looked over, noting that I had lost my place in line, and was once again stuck in line. It had taken me forty minutes to get through it the first time, but it was worth losing my place to help one of my favorite students.

I asked if I could wait in line with them, which Edward had no problems with. As we stood in line, I told him of some of Masen's antics, so I knew full well what the child was capable of. He was a handful, but for the most part, so were most children his age.

Edward laughed in all the right places, lapping up all the information that I had on his son. I felt bad for the man, he had missed nearly four years of his son's life, something that could never be replaced. I had a box of old projects that the parents never picked up. Masen had a couple, so I would get those for him one day.

I finally made it to the front of the line when Edward graciously let me go ahead of him. When I was finished, I looked back so I could tell him about the projects. It may have been a pathetic way of being able to see them again, but hey, I would take whatever I could get.

That's when I noticed little man wiggling.

It was the same potty dance from a year ago.

The old teacher in me came out, and I offered to take him to the bathroom.

"Mif Swan?"

"Yes Mase?"

"Can you sing the potty song?"

I laughed, singing the song I used to sing for the kids when it was time for the bathroom. He giggled, while swinging his feet to the beat. I was walking with him out the door when I heard the sounds of gunshots. I pulled him back into the bathroom and hid with him in a stall.

"Mif Swan? What's going on? I'm scared."

"Mase, there are some bad men out there. I need you to as quiet as a mouse for me, okay."

I held him, on top of a toilet, when I heard someone thundering into the bathroom. I held my hand over his mouth to keep him from crying out. Tears were coming down his face, but he was trying to be brave. He was such a good little man.

"Bathrooms are all clear," I heard a man cry out.

I kept my hand over his mouth for a little bit longer, until I was assured that he calmed down.

I kissed his face, trying to figure out what we were going to do next, and how the hell was I going to keep use safe from these madmen out there.

AN: Here it is, the next installment. I hope you guys enjoyed it. As always, reviews rock my socks.