Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of its characters etc, and I wish SM didn't own them either.

Chapter Ten – She Meets the Parents

The Volvo flew along the back roads of Forks, Edward maneuvering the car expertly over the slick roads. Though the needle was hovering right below ninety, Bella felt almost completely safe. Almost. That last part of her – that teeny bit that felt fear – relished in the danger. It was the most careless that Edward had ever been with her.

"And so after my dad set her ankle, she kept rambling on and on in Italian and yelling and hitting his shoulder. He couldn't figure out what the hell was the matter with her, and he couldn't get her to shut up, so, as he always tells people, he did the only thing he could think of."

"What?" Bella asked, genuinely curious. Edward had been telling her about how his parents met, and their story was so adorably romantic that it could have been a movie.

"He kissed her," Edward said with a grin.

"Oh, real professional," she joked.

"That's the joke my mother always makes," he laughed. "So then, she pushes him away and slugs him in the mouth. Right about that time, this guy comes storming in, and dad thinks it's her husband or boyfriend or something and – keep in mind that these are his words, not mine – pretty much shit his pants."

Bella could barely breathe from her giggles. "Oh my God. Please tell me it was her husband."

"Worse. It was her older brother. And she was barely eighteen."

"You're kidding!" she gasped.

"Nope. And so my dad's resident comes in and sends him upstairs so he and the translator can try to smooth things out. When he finally builds up enough courage to come out and apologize, she's gone. A bunch of time passes, and my dad gets into a relationship with this nurse. He was even thinking about asking her to marry him."

"But he didn't?"

"My mom showed back up one day out of the blue. Said she'd been waiting for him to come look for her, and, since he hadn't, she'd come to find him."

"She flew all the way from Italy?" Bella asked, only mildly horrified by the girlish sigh she emitted.

"More like she took the train all the way from the University of Chicago, where she'd been going to school."

"Still! That's the most romantic story I've ever heard!"

"Remember – I told you all of this so my parents didn't have an hour long story-time, cuddle fest in front of us. Please, if you care about my sanity at all, don't bring this up. Please."

"I'll do my best," she promised as he turned onto a side road. "Oh holy shit," she gasped, suddenly realizing where they were.

"What? What's wrong?" he demanded, looking at her anxiously.

"You live in the Erickson house?" she squeaked.

"Umm…if this is the Erickson house, then yes," he replied, his nose wrinkled in confusion.

"Holy shit," she reiterated as the imposing white house came into view.

There had been articles about the house built by the founder of Erickson logging when he'd first made his fortune chopping down half the trees on the Pacific coast. Charlie still talked about it from time to time – the scandal of a house the size of the entire town being built in the woods nearby when the hospital was about to go under. Seeing it for the first time, with its large windows, oversized doors, and two wings flanking the main house, Bella couldn't help but let her jaw drop open.

"My mom likes restoring houses," he said.

"Because this one needs so much restoration," she snorted, staring up at the gables scattered over the roofline.

"You're going to freak out on me, aren't you?" he asked warily.

"Probably."

"It's just a house," he tried hopefully. "With a door and a roof – "

"And about sixty rooms and hard wood floors and imported marble and Louis XVI chandeliers and an in-home theater and – "

"How the hell do you know all that?"

"It's the Erickson house," she reminded him. "Everyone knows about this house. There was an article in the Seattle Times about it when it was being built."

"Well, it's seriously just a house. Too much of a house, really. My first day here I got confused about which room was mine and…"

Edward trailed off and blushed as he pulled into a large garage on the far side of the house.

"What?" she asked, amused at his awkwardness.

"Trust me when I say you don't want to know," he grumbled, turning the key and opening his door.

Bella climbed out of the Volvo, noticing several other very new, very expensive looking cars in each of the available garage bays. When she looked back to Edward he was blushing again.

"My dad's into sports cars," he muttered, watching as her eyes ran over both a Mercedes and a vintage convertible. "The green one's a fifty-six Jaguar roadster."

"Like in – "

"Cruel Intentions," he finished for her. "Come on, let's go inside before – "

"Before you get any more embarrassed by your poor little rich boy-ness?" she teased.

"I hate you," he sighed, ushering her into a narrow hallway.

Edward led her through several side doors and into a large, bright kitchen. The cabinets were an antique white, and the upper doors had glass panes in them, highlighting an impressive collection of basket-weave dishes. As Bella paused to admire the blue granite countertops, she caught sight of the woman leaning casually against the bar across the room. She was exquisite, with pale, olive tinted skin, flowing chestnut hair, and pale brown eyes. Her full lips were spread wide in a warm smile, and the openness of her face made her relax immediately.

"Bella, this is my mother, Esme. Mom, this is Bella," Edward said, pushing her forward gently.

"It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Cullen," Bella said quietly.

"None of that," Esme said, speaking with the barest hint of an accent. She crossed the room to pull Bella into a gentle hug. "Just call me Esme. I'm so very delighted to meet you. Edward has talked about you non-stop."

"Mother," Edward groaned, shooting her a warning glare.

"Well, you have darling," she teased, winking conspiratorially at Bella. "I was so pleasantly surprised, too. He moped about for months when we told him we were moving. I'd barely had a civil word from him until he met you."

"And you're unlikely to get another after this debacle," he grumbled.

Esme's warm laugh filled the room, and Bella found herself joining in. "I apologize for my son, Bella. He can be a bit of a boor at times. He gets particularly cranky just before snack time."

"Avete detto che sareste stato piacevole," Edward said, crossing his arms across his chest in a huff.

"Sto essendo molto piacevole! It is you who are being rude, speaking Italian when Bella cannot. I was just informing my son that I am behaving, just as I'd promised."

"Where's dad?" Edward asked, glancing over his shoulder almost desperately as he so obviously tried to distract her.

The banter hit a momentary lull at his question, allowing Bella to marvel at the sheer normality of Edward's relationship to his mother. After years of basing her idea of family off of the dysfunctional lives of her own parents, the Hales, the Brandons, and the McCartys, it was strange to see. She marveled at the easy way with which Esme teased her son and the obvious affection in her tone as she did so. She marveled further at the good humor with which Edward took her spars and his ease in responding in kind.

"Did someone call for me," spoke a deep voice.

Bella looked up to see what must have been Edward's father. He was tall, though not as tall as Edward, with pale blonde hair and intensely blue eyes. Like his wife, he wore a smile that was both warm and inviting. She watched as Esme's eyes lit up, and she moved quickly to stand by her husband's side.

"Carlisle, mio amore, come and meet my beautiful Bella. I've just been telling her how very glad we are that she has managed to pull our son out of his little funk."

"You're going to put him right back into one with talk like that," Carlisle chuckled.

"That's what I said!" Edward interjected.

"Well, I'm very happy to meet you," Carlisle said, shaking her hand as she blushed. Up close, she noticed the tiny gray flecks in his eyes. "I know your father, though not as well as I'd like."

"Do you play spades?" she asked.

"Why, yes, I do," he said, confusion etched into the wrinkles around his eyes.

"Pop by the station. He's been looking for a partner to take down his deputies – Mrs. Crowley is awful – and he loves to talk while he plays."

"All right, torturing time is over," Edward said before his father could respond. He grabbed Bella by the hand. "We'll be in my room."

"Leave the door open," Carlisle warned. "Her father is the chief of Police."

Bella giggled awkwardly, pleased to notice that Edward's cheeks were as red as her own.

"I swear to God, I'm never speaking to either of you again," he exclaimed, burying his free hand in his hair.

"Yes you will, my sweet. Would you like some lemon bars to take upstairs with you? Perhaps some homemade marshmallows?" Esme asked.

Edward paused. "Fine. Lemon squares. But don't think this lets you off the hook."

"Would you like some tea, Bella? A glass of milk?"

"Umm…"

"I have drinks in my room," Edward said, snatching the plate of delicious looking treats his mother handed him. "Call me for dinner."

Bella waved a goodbye over her shoulder as Edward dragged her away from the kitchen and up two flights of stairs. She followed him down a long hallway, barely having time to take in the unique art and wall hangings interspersed amongst a huge gallery of family photos. At the end of the hall, he opened another door to reveal a steep, narrow staircase to what Bella could only assume was some sort of attic space. When they reached the door at the top, he paused and looked at her nervously.

"Oh get over it," she said, reaching around him. "You climbed into my window without even giving me a chance to tidy up first, let alone to feel awkward about you seeing my personal space."

She turned the knob, pushing the door open and stepping neatly around Edward to pause on the threshold. The walls of his room were a slate blue that blended seamlessly into the dull gray of the sky visible through his large, uncovered window. Ebony hardwood floors were covered by a large oriental rug in muted blues and greens. One whole wall was covered in walnut colored shelving complete with a built in desk. His tall, four poster bed – covered in a blue and green flannel duvet – took up the other wall. Hanging over it was a black and white photo that was out of focus, though in an artful way. The last wall held a well-worn black leather sofa with a silvery-blue blanket tossed over it.

"See," she said, scowling playfully. "You at least got to hide all your dirty undies and put away all embarrassing items before I showed up."

"True," he agreed, moving to fiddle with the iPod attached to his elaborate looking stereo system.

When he was satisfied with his musical selection, he moved across the room and sat the lemon squares on the table next to the sofa before sitting down. Bella, casting a long glance toward the bed, went to join him.

"Your parents are great," she told him.

"That's what they're always trying to tell me," he said. "Lemon square?"

"No thanks." She scooted closer to him, surprised by her own boldness.

"Something to drink?"

"No thanks," she said again, carefully placing her hand on his forearm and staring up at him.

"You sure?"

"Edward?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up," she said, closing the distance between them and pressing her lips firmly to his.

For one fantastic minute he responded, his fingers sliding into her hair and his mouth just barely opening. She felt the same tingles she had the first time he'd kissed her – tingles that seemed to warm her through rather than burn her up as the previous night's kiss had. Her hand was just sliding to his chest when he pushed her away.

"That wasn't fair," he said angrily, standing up and storming across the room.

"What wasn't fair?" she asked, embarrassment and rejection flooding her.

"You. Kissing me like that."

"What's unfair about me wanting to kiss you?"

"The fact that less than twenty-four hours ago you were kissing someone else!"

Bella froze, unable to move as she watched him stand perfectly still and absolutely straight as he stared out his window with his hands buried in his hair. She wanted to go to him, but she knew she deserved whatever he might say. And she knew he deserved to let it all out.

"Can you honestly tell me," he said, turning to face her again, "that you didn't think of him even a little during that kiss?"

She couldn't, and so she didn't try.

"That's why it's unfair, Bella."

"So what exactly do you want from me?" she asked, and she was surprised that she could feel her temper flaring up. "What, exactly, do you want?"

"Excuse me?"

"What do you want with me, Edward? Tell me. Answer me that question, because I still don't have a clue. You tell me you want me to be your girlfriend. But then you tell me to give up my friends. You tell me that you want me to be with you, but then, when we're alone, you don't want to be with me. You only seem interested in me that way when we're at school. When he's watching. So now, you look at me. You look at me and tell me you didn't think of him, even a little, during that kiss. That you didn't think about the fact that you've ostensibly won the battle. That you took me away from him."

"I didn't take you away."

"You're right. You didn't. I left, Edward. And it's hard. I thought…I mean…I fucking explained it to you. I've loved him for so long it's hard to remember a time when I didn't. I've wanted him even longer than that. Did you expect all of that to just go away because you showed up?"

He stared at her, mouth half open, and smugness radiated off of her in waves as she saw how quickly his self-righteousness had deflated.

"I wanted to kiss you. I chose to kiss you. Just like I chose you over him!"

"But – "

"No. I picked you. I wanted you. And not because Jasper makes me miserable and because you make me safe. Because you've let me be me. Because I can yell at you when I'm mad and not be terrified! Because I can joke with you. Because I can sit in comfortable silence with you. Because when I'm kissing you I feel like everything can finally make sense…like I'm doing something right."

"Bella, I'm – "

"Don't. Just don't. Why the hell did you bring me here? Why'd you act like you could forgive me this morning only to completely freak out just now? God, you are fifty times more confusing than he is."

"Oh fuck that," he bit out with a glare.

"He at least said he didn't want me and followed through. You're telling me you want me and then pushing me away." She knew this wasn't strictly true, but she was angry and ranting, and she didn't have time to take it back now.

"Just because I wasn't ready to kiss you just then doesn't mean I don't want to kiss you ever, Bella!"

She just stared at him for a long moment, her eyebrows raised in amusement. "You brought me to your house. You ushered me up several flights of stairs, basically as far from your parents as you could get. You brought me to your room and closed the door even after your dad told you not to. You put on this…this…" She paused to wave her hand in the direction of the stereo. "This mood music. You didn't even turn on the lights, Edward. What was I supposed to think you wanted?"

"Shit. I'm a total fucking creep."

"I wouldn't go that far," she said, rolling her eyes. "You certainly have a penchant for the dramatic, though."

"I don't like the idea of you thinking about him when you're kissing me."

"And that's perfectly fair."

"And you were."

"Fine. I was. But not like that."

"Then what were you thinking," he asked, starting to move slowly back toward her.

"I told you," she stalled, suddenly very sure that it was too much, too soon to tell him what she had been thinking.

"You didn't," he argued.

"Does it matter?"

"To me it does."

"What if I told you I'm not ready yet?"

"I'd respect that," he said, sitting down at her side. "But it wouldn't stop me wanting to know."

"It's like I told you," she said, shrugging her shoulders in an attempt to seem nonchalant. "When I kiss you I feel warm all over. Like it's right…like it's supposed to be that way."

"And when you kiss him," he said, his lips pressing into a hard line as his eyes bored into her own.

"When I kiss him…" she trailed off, biting her lip. "When I kiss him I feel like…God, this is so stupid."

"Like a band-aid, Bella."

"I feel like the entire world is on fire…like everything is going to get caught up in the flames and burn up right along with me."

"You feel wrong," he said quietly.

"Yes," she whispered, though inside she couldn't help but think that it had felt wonderful in all its wrongness. Too wonderful.

"You know that's true, don't you?" he asked, tentatively reaching for her hand.

"Yes. I don't want to see myself destroyed, and I don't want to destroy you or Alice or anyone else, either. I want things to feel right."

"I'm sorry I went a little spastic. I...I have a horrendous temper. And I'm judgmental. And I think that I'm better than everyone. And I always think I'm right, which makes me stubborn as hell. And…these are things you should know about me."

"I kind of already did," she said, bumping his shoulder and smiling cautiously at him.

He returned her smile. "It's just…I wanted you to know. Because what happened just now will probably happen again."

"Good," she said. "I hardly ever get to yell at anyone. I'm almost looking forward to it."

"So do you want to watch a movie?" he asked, changing the subject, and handing her a lemon bar.

"Not really," she replied. She wanted to kiss him again, but that clearly wasn't going to happen and she knew that sitting in a dark room right next to him would only leave her frustrated and annoyed. She took a bite of the chewy, tangy bar and her mouth almost exploded from sheer deliciousness. "This is the most amazing thing ever!"

"That's nothing…wait till you try her cannolis. What do you want to do?"

"I want to sit here and listen while you tell me all about your life before Forks."

"There isn't much to tell."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"What do you want to know?" he asked. "This may go better if you just ask the questions, and we'll play quid pro quo."

"Ok, Hannibal. Girlfriend?"

"I'm pretty sure. She's awfully cute too."

"I mean before," Bella sighed in mock exasperation.

"Several."

"Were they pretty?"

"No. Hideous. Every single one."

"All right, that was a stupid question," she conceded.

"It really was. And I'm not just sucking up when I say that none of them were nearly as naturally pretty as you."

"Naturally pretty is just another way of saying plain," she argued. "Next question."

"No wait! It's my turn," he scolded.

"You already know the answer to that."

"You mean to tell me you've never had a boyfriend before?"

"Nope," she said, blushing a little and shooting him a glare. "I've gone out with guys. I went out with a guy named Jacob for a few weeks to try to make Jasper jealous, but it didn't work so I stopped. I wouldn't call him my boyfriend though."

"Well, the rules of quid pro quo are that it doesn't have to be the same question, just so you know. Though I wondered about that one."

"Did your mom decorate your room?"

"Yes. What happened to your mom?"

"Wow. I mean, umm…" Bella stumbled, caught off guard by the question.

"I didn't mean to be blunt," he apologized, reaching for her hand.

"No, it's ok. I just forget people exist who don't know the story."

"There's a story?"

"Not really. My parents got married when they were young – right out of high school – and had me not long after that. My mom wanted to move, to get out of the rain…but my dad's parents lived here and he couldn't just abandon them. So one day my mom just took me and left. We moved to Phoenix. Then, when I was three, she bought two plane tickets, flew back to Forks, drove to Charlie's, and left me in the living room."

"Are you fucking serious?" he asked. "Fuck, Bella. I'm sorry. I thought maybe she'd died or – "

"And death is clearly superior to abandonment. No, it's fine," she said, waving her hands to halt his impending apology. "It's actually kind of funny. Charlie's a good dad. He isn't fabulous with the talking, but there're always snow chains on my tires when it ices, there's always pancakes on my birthday, and he – "

"What?" Edward demanded.

"No way," Bella replied, shaking her head obstinately.

"I'm using my next question. What?"

"That isn't how it works! You can't just make me answer the questions!"

"Those are the rules of quid pro quo!"

"The rules you just made up," she laughed. "I'll tell you what. You tell me what happened when you were lost in the house and I'll tell you about this."

"Fine," he sighed. "It isn't that embarrassing. I mean, they do it all the time so I guess I shouldn't get so upset about it."

"Holy shit. You walked in on them?" Bella asked, laughing even harder as she clapped her hands to her mouth in shock.

"Yes. I was looking for my bedroom, but I opened the door and…there they were," he said with a pained expression. "On the table in the crafting room."

"On the table?" Bella giggled.

"That's when I moved my room to the attic. There was no confusing of which space was mine. And there were also at least two doors between me and them at all times."

"It could have been worse," she said, patting his shoulder reassuringly.

"Believe me, I know," he said darkly, scowling at the floor. "Your turn."

"God, next to that mine's nothing. It's more embarrassing for Charlie than it is for me. It's kind of cute that he's willing to do it."

"You don't make him…"

"Force him to buy my…feminine products? No, but somehow they are always there, waiting for me under the sink when I need them. I don't say anything about it, he doesn't either, and the world keeps spinning. I don't know why I get so embarrassed talking about it. It's stupid really."

"Yes, well…please let's not talk about it anymore."

"Fair enough. Why didn't you want to make friends at Forks?"

"Because I thought if I was miserable and unhappy and not making friends my mom would move us back to Seattle while my dad finished up his study."

"I doubt they could be apart that long," Bella smirked. "What, with the insatiable need for – "

"If you complete that sentence I'll…I'll think of something to do to you, and it will be both creative and terrifying. My turn. Why aren't you friends with anyone but Jasper and Alice?"

"I wouldn't say I'm not friends with them. It's just…when we were little, the Hales wouldn't let Jasper play with a lot of the other kids. They didn't want him associating with the lesser citizens."

Edward barked a laugh, and Bella smiled at him indulgently. "I know. It's seriously the dumbest thing ever, but his mother is a total loon. She has these delusions of grandeur because her husband is the principal of the high school and her dad was an attorney in Port Angeles. It's hysterical, and it embarrasses Jasper to no end.

But! It meant we didn't really play with all that many of the other kids. Then Alice came, and she and I were friends so she was friends with J too. And Emmett and Rosalie used to hang out with us, but Emmett, who is normally so great at reading people, figured the best way to get Rosalie to finally go out with him was to ask me out."

"And you said no."

"And Rosalie kicked his ass. Tell me about your experiment."

"I…well…it's complicated," he said, his eyes shooting unconsciously to one of the large, lower cabinets next to the desk area of his room.

Bella followed his gaze. "You know the rules."

"I made the rules up."

"Too bad. I liked the rules."

"You didn't like it so much five minutes ago."

"I was worried about talking about tampons with you five minutes ago. I'm over that now. This honest thing is fun, so please partake and spill your secrets," she said, parroting back his earlier command with a grin.

"It really is a very long story…" Edward trailed off, cocking his head before standing and pulling her up and toward the door. "A very long story that I will have to tell you at another time, because my mother is calling us for dinner."

"I'm not going to forget," she warned.

"Of course you won't," he groaned as they hit the second flight of stairs.

"Do I smell spaghetti?" she asked in a fit of compassion.

"And chicken parmesan. It's my favorite."

"I love chicken parm! With a delicious – "

"A deliciously rich marinara and some crusty garlic bread? You've come to the right place," Esme called out as they entered the kitchen.

"This smells fantastic," Bella said, breathing in.

"That's because it is," Carlisle replied.

They all gathered around the table, and Bella sat and watched. She was comfortable around people who were effectively strangers. Breaking bread with the Cullens made her feel like a part of a family in a way she hadn't in a long time. Charlie did his best, and the Brandons were always polite, but family dinner was a seldom if ever sort of event. She got the distinct impression that for Edward and his parents, it was the center of their day, and she liked it.

"Pass the bread please, Bella," Carlisle said, his eyes twinkling. "You may be a guest, but that doesn't mean I'm letting you eat more than your fair share."

"No problem," she said and handed him the basket, realizing in a flash that picking Edward had the potential to be the best decision she'd ever made.