A/N: Very little from the one-shot here, and we're continuing to set up the direction of the full story, but we're still all about the romance!

We definitely don't own the characters . . .

Chapter 4: Revelations

All About the Attitude

I gave Alice the full run down of the events leading up to the email. Our meeting. The window. The coffee. Edward's full name.

She squealed like a thirteen year old at a Jonas Brothers concert when I told her I kissed him, then immediately pulled up Google and typed in Edward Cullen.

"Holy shit! There are a ton of photos of him!"

"I don't want to know details, Alice. Nothing. Nada. Zlich."

"Hmmm, here is one of Emmett and Edward Cullen. Does he have a brother? Which one is he? Dimples or killer smile?"

"What color is killer smile's hair?" I asked as I twirled the phone cord around my finger.

"Looks red. Dimples is dark brown"

"He has red hair." I paused for a second, debating. "Send me the picture. Not the link. Just the pic."

Alice laughed. My curiosity always got the best of me.

"If that is him, then my hat is off to you for having the stones to lay one on him. I wouldn't have been able to move, let alone grab him and smooch him!"

The email appeared in my box. I opened the attached photo.

My god 007 doesn't have anything on Edward Cullen in a tux. "Yeah, that's him."

"Damn, B. If I'd have known that was what you could catch moping in front of Tiffany's, I would have taken it up ages ago."

"Haha, thanks Ali. But back to the topic at hand." I was looking for moral support and perspective, not to be the butt of her never ending jokes.

"Ah yes, you mean your little freak out once you realized you had one of People's Most Eligible Bachelors' after you? Get over it. The guy has been leaving things for you to find in the window at freaking Tiffany's. How could you not expect him to have money?"

"Please tell me you are joking on the eligible bachelor comment…" I pleaded.

"You said you didn't want to hear it, so I am telling you nothing! "

She was right, I had taken into consideration that Edward either had serious money or connections to pull off the window. But there was a difference between money and money. The Cullens were the latter. We weren't talking the Trumps here. More like Rockafeller, Getty, or Carnegie. A totally different world from small town Washington where my dad was the Chief of Police.

"Bella, what are you so worried about? He's obviously interested in you for something more than an easy lay. If not, why would he make the effort? I am sure there are women throwing themselves at him six ways to Sunday!"

She knew me so well. She anticipated my arguments, and countered before I could make them.

"Give him a chance. Get to know him. He deserves the same opportunity you would expect. Aren't you always complaining that people judge you on your looks or your gender, not what's inside? This really isn't any different."

Alice was right. She always was. I was doing to Edward exactly what pissed me off in others. It was a defense mechanism. I was afraid that once he got to know me, he wouldn't want me, or I wouldn't fit.

Yes, it was scary. I would be taking a leap of faith. But if I leapt and made it to the other side, it had the potential to so be worth it.

"My advice, be yourself. Are you supposed to see him tomorrow?"

"I don't know. He was at the window this morning, but he wasn't yesterday."

"When I doubt, wear the attitude suit, Bella."

Oh no. Not that. "No, Ali. That's for…"

"For when you need to crack out the big guns. I know. But girlfriend, the big guns are for you. Not for him."

"I know, Alice."

"So you'll wear it?"

"Yes." It was easier to give in than argue with her.

"Good. So tell me, does Mr. Too Good To Be True have any single friends?"

The next day I walked up Fifth Avenue in a mod black pants suit, a faded beastie boys fitted t-shirt, a seriously bad ass pair of pumps and my black trench coat. Alice had talked me into buying this suit last fall for when I needed to cop some attitude in editorial meetings. She swore that I radiated strength and attitude when I wore it, hence the name. I wasn't so sure about that, but I always felt better wearing it, my little bit of New York attitude that still let my own personality shine through.

Edward was standing in front of the window, his back to me. 'Attitude' I mentally repeated to myself. "Attitude. Attitude." He was here. He wanted me. Forget the last name. Give him a chance. Get to know Him.

"Hey." I went up on tiptoe and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. It was an extension. An olive branch, so to speak. I know who you are, but it doesn't change anything for me.

Someone Else's Perspective

I knew this moved us forward immeasurably. She now had my last name. A few strokes in a search engine, and she would know who I was . . . the who everyone else knew. It's happened often enough.

Just out of curiosity, I Googled myself. I cringed when I saw that what seemed to characterize the public me were terms like "playboy," "eligible bachelor," and "sexy millionaire." Ah yes, exactly the kind of description that forms the basis of a lasting relationship. I wasn't sure which fear was stronger—that she would not want me because of the titles or that she would.

I clicked on the tab for images. At first, I felt some relief. The first up was one of Emmett and me arm and arm at a charity gala from a couple of years ago. Several were solo shots of me at various events. But then there was the digital parade of women. If you didn't know the span of time between the photos, it would be easy to misinterpret my intentions.

Subjected to constant scrutiny, anyone's life would appear to be something other than what it was.

Though in this case, unfortunately, it wasn't as far off the mark as I would have liked. I had dated a lot. And it wouldn't matter whether the relationships were physical or not. Any way you looked at it the pictures fit the description—playboy.

I needed reinforcements, and Emmett was out of town on business for a couple of days. I'd offered to go since Rosalie didn't like him traveling now when Haley was so little, but it was a project he was intimately involved with, and he was committed to the account.

I took off a little early, calling on the way to give fair warning. Rosalie was surprised, to say the least, but she didn't turn me away. I considered other options first, of course. I could have called my best friend, but Rosalie had perspective he didn't.

I got to their house in the 'burbs around 5:30. She was already feeding the baby some kind of mush. I don't know how much was actually going in her mouth, but it was all over her face and high chair.

Rosalie and Emmett were natural parents. I never would have guessed it about Emmett. I always imagined he'd be good with the older kids—when he could play ball or video games with them. And I assumed he would express some disappointment that his first born was a girl, but that never happened. He was as in love with Haley as he was with Rosalie.

"What's up, Edward?" She seemed tired and a little suspicious.

"I could use some advice."

"From me?" She ran her fingers through her hair, and some of the food she'd been feeding the baby got stuck in her blond locks. Even at that moment she was gorgeous, maybe even more so than in the days of cocktail dresses and club gear. Motherhood brought out her natural beauty.

"Yes, you are exactly the right person for this, but I would appreciate some discretion."

"You want me to keep a secret from Emmett? You know I can't do that."

"Not really a secret, but maybe employ a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy."

She thought for a moment. "I think I can handle that, but I have to reserve the right to change my mind when I find out what this is about."

"Fair enough." She continued scooping food in the baby's mouth and making faces at her to encourage her to open her mouth wider. "I met someone."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything else.

"I know what you're thinking, but she's different. This is special." She dropped her eyebrow, and faced me head on.

"And why does the great Edward Cullen need my advice?"

I was blazing a new trail here. Rosalie and I had never really talked about our past. It wasn't much of one really. In the end, it had been a night of misses. First we were misjudged. We were set up on a blind date. Someone assumed she was a gorgeous bimbo, just my type. When she'd walked into the restaurant and saw me there, she'd looked contemptuous. If someone thought she was my type, it would have to feel like an insult. People rarely thought highly of my relationship potential. We had a chilly dinner until the wine flowed freely enough to figure out the second miss. We'd just been mismatched. I set her up with Emmett for the next week. They've been together ever since.

"What did you think when you first heard about me?"

She laughed. "You don't want to know!"

"Actually, I do. She just learned my name today."

"She didn't know who you were?"

"I don't think so. She never gave any indication. I Googled myself today, Rosalie. How could anyone get past that?"

She sighed. "It's not that hard, Edward. If you stick around long enough let her get to know the real you."

Bella already knew me, though. Didn't she?

I told Rosalie the whole story. About the window, the charms, the kiss, and the emails.

"So you haven't even been on a date with her?" By then she was cleaning up Haley's face and the high chair tray.

"Not exactly. I want to work through the plan first."

"I don't know whether you're the most romantic man on earth, or an idiot for not jumping her," she laughed as she walked over to the sink to rinse out the dishes.

"Thanks, I think." I was laughing too.

"Seriously, it all sounds cute, but be careful. You know things could get dicey. Carlisle would not be happy if this ended badly."

"I know. That's why I asked for discretion from you. I just need to know whether my past ruins me for a girl like this."

"You're a good man, Edward. She'll see that. But at the same time, I hope you mean all this. These charms and everything. You could destroy a girl if you didn't mean it."

"Thanks, Rosalie." Haley dropped her toy, so I bent down to pick it up.

"You know, you might want to talk to Tanya about it." I hit my head on the high chair when I came up too quickly.

"You're not serious." I said while rubbing the top of my head. Haley had promptly tossed the toy back on the floor, and she giggled like crazy.

"I am. She might surprise you."

"You won't say anything to her!"

"No, just think about calling her. She's got a lot of insight on you."

I changed the subject quickly, by talking about Haley.

I felt better after our conversation, but I was still cautious on Wednesday morning. Bella greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. I slipped my hand in hers, looked her in the eyes, and said, "For you, Bella, I not only did, but I always will."

"Shel knows his stuff," she said sweetly. I squeezed her hand lightly, and gently pulled her away from the window.

I walked her to work, still connected. I wished her a pleasant day with a kiss on her hand.

"Until tomorrow."

I made it sound easy, but those two words meant waiting. I had always prided myself on my unending patience, but I'd found its limit.

Getting to Know You

It used to be that I lived for the end of the work day. Now I longed for the beginning.

We had both made leaps of faith yesterday, exposed ourselves.

He knew who I was. I knew who he was. He tried to play it off with the silver E charm, the acknowledgment of who he was, what he was. He walked me to work keeping conversation light, but I could tell it was a challenge for him.

When we arrived at my building, he placed a single, innocent kiss on the back of my hand. His eyes never left mine. I think it was the single most intense and magical moment of my life.

Once I was settled into my office, it would have been easy to pull up my browser and type in his name. News stories, society photos, and press clippings weren't going to tell me what I needed to know.

So I swallowed my curiosity. Instead I pulled up the photo that Alice had sent me. Edward and a man that I assumed was his brother. I studied his face; the easy smile was at odds with his eyes, which had the same look that I saw in the coffee shop last week. I had interpreted it as sadness, but with a chance to look closer, they seemed almost empty.

I couldn't suppress the nagging thought that I needed to do something. All of his wonderful, lovely gestures made such an impact. What have I done? I gave him the newspaper one day. Classy, Bella. If this was going to become something, it needed to be equal. Both giving, both receiving.

I sat in my office for a long time, staring out the window, lost in thought. If he was concerned about what I might find, he needed to know it didn't matter. Question issued, problem solved.

I popped up my email, typed past in the subject line, and tabbed to the body. He put himself out there. I needed to meet him halfway.

Edward -

When I was ten, I stepped on a rake and had to get ten stitches in my foot

Freshman year of high school I got a D in geometry

I am allergic to cashews

You won't find that out if you Google me. That's what matters.

I never liked mornings before I met you. Now I hate the rest of the day, because it's not morning.

B

Not five minutes later, a reply hit my inbox.

Bella -

When I was 10, my brother broke my nose with an errant baseball.

Freshman year of high school, I got a 3 day suspension for skipping too much school. I thought it was a reward.

I have no allergies, but I cashews disgust me.

You are my life now. No matter the time of day.

E.

I wanted to pinch myself. I closed my office door, and danced around like a giddy teenager. The man in an office across the street paused in the middle of his office pacing to give me a funny look. I didn't care.

I wasn't sure where this was going, but it felt absolutely amazing.

I settled back into my chair and tapped out another message.

I always wished that I had a brother or sister. It was lonely growing up an only child of divorced parents. Are you guys close?

I am horrible at sports, but I love football. I think my dad is still living down the shock of the first time I shouted 'hit him, hurt him!' at the television set. He was afraid to introduce me to baseball for fear that I would cheer when a batter was hit.

B

I hit send and sat back to wait for what came next.

We swapped emails all day. We started by talking about our families. I told him about my parents divorce when I was little. How my mom had basically bailed out on us to go live her own life. I tried to play off the impact, but the more we 'talked', the more I opened up. In return, he told me about his family, especially his brother, sister in law, and niece. It was clear that he loved them all dearly.

He didn't speak much about his mom, but it was clear that she hung the moon. He hardly mentioned his dad. There was something there, but I respected his boundaries and didn't probe. He would tell me what I needed to know in due time.

As we reached the end of the day, we were both getting punchy, venturing into goofy questions like favorite books, music, food, that sort of thing.

The last email that hit my inbox was a doozy.

What are you afraid of?

What is your biggest regret?

Name the best Mel Brooks movie ever.

E.

Best Mel Brooks movie ever? Good lord, I love this man.

I typed out a quick reply.

What am I most afraid of? Not leading a significant life

My biggest regret? Letting my mom hurt me so much. It was mine to control, but I chose to let her have the power

Hands down, best ever – Robin Hood Men in Tights. 'Blinkin! Fix your boobs; you look like a bleedin' Picasso!'

Your turn. You can't lob questions like that over and not reciprocate. I'm headed home, so you have time to think through your answers. And I'll throw an extra one on for you to lighten things up. Watcha wearing :p ?

B

I hesitated for a second. We were still feeling our way through this, learning each other. Humor was a huge part of the equation for me. I had to know if he could roll with my droll approach to life. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I hit send, and powered down my laptop. I'd know one way or another in about an hour.

Jonesing

It was a rare day. I had no meetings. I intended to work on returning phone calls and emails, and playing catch up with paperwork. I would probably be up very late now as I spent the majority of my day engaged in an email exchange with Bella. When I wasn't writing, I was reading and re-reading what she wrote. I may have spent a chunk of the day determining clever questions I could ask which would tell me the most about her.

We digressed rapidly from innocent stories about our families to questions which tended to go deeper into our hopes and dreams. It felt like a first date.

She amazed me. The spirit she had, the grab life by the seat of your pants attitude. Fearless. Given how lonely her upbringing must have been I couldn't imagine where it came from.

I'd known women scarred for life because their mothers sent them to school with the wrong brand of jeans. Hers had abandoned her.

I sent off the last few questions at the end of the day, feeling rather proud of myself. I'd lost track of time, and Jane buzzed to remind me that I had a dinner meeting in a half an hour. Grudgingly, I logged off and took a moment to make sure I didn't look terribly disheveled.

Before I stepped into the restaurant, I took a minute to check my messages on my phone.

Her first two answers floored me. God, this woman had depth. And then I literally laughed out loud, as I read her Mel Brooks response and follow up question.

I was anxious at dinner. I wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere she was, even if it was virtual. I tapped my foot rapidly under the table. I fidgeted with my napkin. I wasn't the kind of man who had excess energy. I didn't know what to do with myself. I began to think I wasn't all that far off with calling her an addiction. I was jonesing.

When the dinner finally ended, I flew home. I grabbed my laptop, and sat down in my leather recliner.

Bella,

I just got home from a dinner meeting. Sorry for the delay. I don't know if you check messages in the evening. Perhaps I'll see you before you get a chance to read this.

What is your biggest regret? Letting my relationship with my father deteriorate.

Name the best Mel Brooks movie ever. 'tsk, 'tsk, Bella. Never underestimate the power of the Schwartz!"

Watcha wearing :p? Ignoring the meticulous grammar of the question, right now I'm wearing a silly grin because I love "talking" with you. I leave the rest to your imagination . . .

E

Give as Good as You Get

There was no email from Edward when I got home. I tried to distract myself by menial things. I went out to pick up my dry cleaning. I decided to stop and rent Robin Hood Men in Tights from the local video store. I picked up some take out.

I got home around 8:30, and threw the DVD in. While it queued up, I quickly changed clothes and grabbed a pair of chopsticks out of the utensil drawer in the kitchen. I quickly lost myself in bad dialogue and hideous green tights as I demolished my dinner. Only then did I allow myself to power back up my laptop.

Edward had replied. And he gave as good as he got. Interesting, he hadn't answered his greatest fear. I wonder if that was intentional or an oversight?

It was getting late, and the movie was winding down. I typed out a quick reply.

I notice you didn't answer the first question. Too much to drink at dinner, an intentional oversight, or too afraid to tell me?

As for my meticulous grammar, I spend all day lecturing people on dangling participles and run on sentences. Cut me some slack.

You didn't ask – but I'll offer anyway. Boxers, t-shirt.

I am signing off for the night. I meant to tell you earlier, what you said about being your life. Thank you. No one has ever cared enough to say something like that to me. Not my parents, not my friends, definitely not a guy. Anyway, thank you.

See you in the morning

B

I turned off the movie, and tossed the take out carton in the garbage. I was about to power down my laptop when one more email appeared in my box.

These days, the only thing I seem to fear is that one day I'll get to the window and you won't be there.

Sleep tight; dream well. Mine will be about you.

. E

I smiled, typed out a quick reply, and powered down my laptop.

Mine too, Edward. Mine too.

B

E/N: Okay, loves you've got to let us know what you think. Next chapter is V-Day, and it's the last of anything from the one-shot. So, who is Tanya? What is going to happen after Bella gets that bracelet? Reviews are like love notes from Edward in your email inbox.

And H is staking some heavy claims on BATward, so come play on twilighted dot net if you want in on it.