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Stripped Desire—Chapter 23: Tempera
"Ultimately we know deeply that the other side of every fear is freedom."
Marilyn Ferguson.~
Edward handles the airport as if it's his second home. He moves with ease and confidence. He knows what he's doing and where to go. It's incredibly sexy.
His distracting persona and his constant touch are enough to make the start of the trip bearable. As bearable as blinding lust can be, anyway.
When we start to get close to landing, my stomach drops to my feet as nerves return.
He tries to calm me down, but the tension never leaves my body. It accompanies me all the way to luggage claim and until we're seated in a cab.
"We're here," I say when we finally arrive at my house.
"We are," he says, eyeing its enormous entrance with a curious expression.
I breathe in the air and realize it does have a distinctive smell that I can't name. But the feeling of joy I'm supposed to experience doesn't come. Instead, I wrap my arms around myself.
"Where will you take me?" Edward asks. "I've never been here."
I know he's trying to distract me again.
"Oh," I say when I realize his words. "I didn't plan any tourist activities."
He surprises me by smiling.
"If we were talking about someone else, I would be angry that you didn't. But the fact that you're comfortable enough around me not to plan anything, makes me happy."
Our smiles meet in a searing kiss.
"I could take you to the White House if you want," I offer as he leads me to the front door of my own house.
"Do you know someone there?" he asks.
I frown. "Yeah."
We're standing in front of the massive oak door, one knock away from entering.
For a moment, I regret having returned my keys when I left.
I was so sure I would never set foot back here again.
Edward runs his hands up and down my arms for several minutes, until I finally step up and ring the doorbell.
An unknown maid opens the door, her eyes widening with recognition before running away. Her reaction is shocking, making me wonder how she knows who I am.
I can't exactly see my mother sitting down next to her sharing stories about me. I mean, it wouldn't surprise me if I found out my belongings had been thrown away and all my pictures burned.
Then it would look as if they never had a daughter.
Edward and I walk unescorted to the living room, hand in hand. I let go when my palms start to sweat.
He stays close.
When the click of high heels on marble floors gets louder, he steps closer.
"Oh," my mom says when she sees me, coming to an abrupt stop.
She looks as beautiful as ever, hair in a perfect up-do, clothes as pristine as I remember. My mother hasn't aged a day.
"Surprise," I say.
I'm a moron.
"What are you doing here?" she asks, making an attempt to step forward.
Before she has a chance to move, I do. I take the wedding invitation out of my purse, leaving it on the coffee table.
She eyes it with distaste before looking back at me.
"I got this in the mail," I say, showing her the envelope. "And I figured, why not? I know what a happy and important event this is for the family. Michael Newton's wedding! At last."
I hear Edward curse under his breath behind me. We had talked about how I would handle this without letting my anger get the best of me.
My mother stares at me with a blank expression, proving that she's the master at this game. A game I will never win against her.
I try to get a sense of calm back into my features, but it's too late. She's already seen how affected I am.
While we stare at each other in silence, my dad walks in.
"Oh," he says, taken aback. "What are you doing here?"
I smile the smile I should've given to my mom.
"Hi Dad," I say. I'm tempted to kiss his cheek just to spite her, but I don't want to move away from Edward.
"Who's this?" he asks, not looking at me.
Even though this is the hardest part, I manage to smile even bigger.
"Mom, Dad, this is Edward Cullen," I say, intertwining our fingers once more.
"My boyfriend."
I have never felt younger and freer than I do at this moment.
"I'm sure you've heard my name once or twice," Edward says. I don't turn to see his face, but I know the smug expression that goes with that tone.
"No, our daughter has failed to mention you," my father says.
"I meant elsewhere," Edward says. "My reputation precedes me."
He sounds so blasé. His sarcasm makes me feel lighter.
I tighten my grip on his hand, trying to absorb his energy.
"Are you staying here?" Renee asks, pretending she's not bothered by Edward's disrespect.
"No," I say.
"Oh," she breathes, confused. It's the most emotion I've gotten out of her so far.
"We didn't want to impose," Edward says. "I'm sure you can use the space."
I can't help but chuckle.
My mother frowns.
"We'll see you at the wedding," I say. And this time I manage an easy smile. She's still frowning, her mask is gone.
I win this round.
"Isabella," she says, finally taking that step toward me. When I step back, she stops moving.
I make it to the door without interruptions, just as I knew I would.
She won't chase after me.
Once outside, I lean against the door and sigh. "I know you thought that was funny, but you wouldn't believe how suffocating it can get in there," I say.
Edward pulls me against him. "Let's get some air back into you."
"I'd rather you leave me breathless," I say, high on the feeling of success. I walked away from my parents for the second time in my life, and it feels amazing.
"I know just the way."
As we walk away, I glance at the empty spot where my reading bench used to be.
After a day of walking around town being tourists, we are now at our hotel under the covers of our bed. The events of the day are weighing me down even after the pleasant distractions Edward had provided for me.
Massages, warm bath, excellent dinner, amazing sex… And yet, I'm thinking about my parents.
It's unnerving.
"Come back," Edward whispers in my ear, running his nose down my neck.
"Sorry," I say.
We stay quiet for a while, holding each other.
"So, your portrait," he starts out of nowhere.
I sit up and face him. "What about it?"
"I was thinking about adding it to the next viewing," he says. I look at him for a moment. Something about his tone is off. It's as if he's not sure about it.
"Oh," it's all I say.
"Unless you don't want to," he adds, way too fast.
I shake my head, frowning. There are many implications that can come out of showing that portrait. My own conflict with allowing the world to see it only being one of them. The thought of Renee Swan finding it, is even scarier. The fact that we're having this conversation just hours after seeing her in forever, makes me uneasy.
Still, I stand my ground.
"We made a deal. You... you warned me," I say, remembering how serious he was that first session about his conditions. I gave him my word.
"Yeah," he says, touching the back of his neck. "But that was before."
"Before what?" I ask, raising my eyebrow.
He gives me a soft smile. "It's too intimate."
I nod. "Well, I'm not wearing clothes."
He shakes his head. "Bodies are just bodies, Isabella. Yours is beautiful, but it's just skin. That's not what I mean."
Edward moves closer to me, and before I know it, I'm on my back with him hovering over me.
"What do you mean then?" I whisper.
He takes a moment before speaking. "You're not only nude in my portrait," he says, looking at me. "You're naked. Everything you are—everything we are—is on that canvas. I don't think I want to share it with anyone. It's ours."
I sigh and touch the side of his face.
"What?" he asks, kissing my hand.
"You're just so... poetic," I say, smiling.
He pulls me closer by the waist and speaks to the skin where my neck meets my shoulder. "Only because you're poetry."
I think I just swooned.
He pulls back to look in my eyes. His smile matches my own.
In a second, he's out of the bed and turning on the radio.
"Let's dance," he says, walking back to bed to offer me his hand. As if he didn't just take my breath away with his words.
Ever since I started taking the dance lessons with Rose, Edward's trying to get me to dance with him—for him. One of the conditions I asked to start the lessons was to not let him sneak into the studio.
He had to promise he wouldn't try to see me until I decided to show him.
I still haven't found the courage even though he asks me almost every day.
Now, I look from his offered hand to his smiling lips and sigh. I don't have to dance my ballet routine right now. I can just lay my head on his chest and sway.
For the next couple of minutes, that's exactly what we do.
"Is this practice for tomorrow?" he asks, directing his words to the top of my head.
"I don't know," I say. "What if we get kicked out?"
"Then we get kicked out," he says as if that wouldn't affect him. "You have an invitation, though. Michael invited you. He wouldn't kick you out."
I draw myself back to look at him. "I'm not worried about Michael. I'm talking about my mom."
He stops moving. "Would she really do that?" His question sounds so innocent, like he can't believe things like these happen in the real world—in my world.
I nod in answer, not bothering to expand on the times I've seen her in action, humiliating whoever became her target.
"But that would cause a scene. She wouldn't like that, right?"
"Trust me, Edward. If she wants us out, we'll be out. It can get loud and ugly or she can make us disappear like magic without anyone noticing it. We'll see."
He tries to get my mind back to dancing, and when it doesn't work, he tickles me until I'm gasping for breath.
I'm about to get my revenge when someone knocks.
We walk together to the door, me wearing Edward's shirt and him wearing basketball shorts.
It's in that disheveled state that we meet my mother's shocked face.
You, readers, are all amazing. Thank you for the support. If you found my story via a rec, I'd like to know, so I can thank that person.
Also, we have like 2 more regular chapters and the epilogue. I thought you should know.
See you next time.
xo