~*Chapter Eight*~


I woke to the sound of his heavy breathing beside my ear, he wasn't snoring, but it was a deep peaceful sound that was so very different from my wife. I started at first, but then remembered where I was and who I was with. Rolling over on to my back, I had that split second feeling of regret and shame at what I had done to my family. My stomach roiled, the bile rising in my throat, thinking about how I was going to tell them that their father was in love with a man. I sat up with a jarring movement, the blood rushing downward, causing some light-headedness which didn't help my anxious state. I ran my hands through my hair, it was all I could do stop myself from running out the door.

Jasper's hand found its way to my back and stroked me ever so slightly. I turned to look at him, his eyes were still closed and it looked as though he was still sleeping, but then I saw his lip curl and he smiled.

"Relax," he mouthed and I took a deep, long breath.

None of the anxiety mattered. He was letting me know that last night wasn't a mistake. The bar, the bed and everything in between, including the shower, had been what both of us had wanted. I glanced to the bathroom and flushed, remembering his hand on my cock with the water streaming down overhead, stroking each other in rhythm until we both came. There was nothing wrong with what I had been feeling last night, but here in this bed in the morning light, it felt different. I had to find some way to get past this, because I loved him, and I loved myself when I was with him. We had to find a way.

I fell back on to the pillows, the bed frame squeaking beneath me. I had to laugh a little, wondering if it would always be this way. Would there always be the guilt and the shame or would it eventually go away. I imagined once I came clean to my family it would help take some of it away.

Jasper laid his arm on my chest, almost as though he was nuzzling into the side of me.

"What do we do now?" I had to ask.

"Can't you just relax a little... enjoy this?" he croaked, his voice heavy and thick with sleep. "It's too fucking early."

"It's not that early and I still have to work today." I placed my hand on his arm, lightly rubbing the hairs on it.

He groaned loudly in discontent, rolling away from me. "Fuck," he breathed out. "I feel like I've been hit by a Mack truck." He looked over at the clock, squinting at the light in the room. "I need a cigarette." He coughed into his hand.

"You left them at the bar," I said, flushing again wondering how we were going to explain our sudden departure from the bar to the guys.

"Shit," he grumbled. "That's not going to be an easy one to explain." He had the same thought as me.

"I leave tomorrow." I said it simply, without even thinking.

He turned to his side, leaning up on his elbow and scrutinized my face. "What have you decided?"

"I have to tell her," I answered, then added. "Do you want me to tell her?"

"I want you to be happy, Edward, that's all I want, and if telling her will bring you some relief, then tell her. But you have to do something." He reached out putting his hand on my chest. "I hate seeing you this way."

"I know," I said, gripping his hand. "What are you going to do?"

He looked away avoiding my gaze, and removed his hand from underneath mine. "I'll follow your lead... whatever you want to do."

"Great," I said sarcastically, "no pressure there."

He nudged me gently. "We're both in very different circumstances," he said. "Despite all that we've gone through, things are very amicable with my wife and I want to keep them that way."

"I'll probably be lucky if I get joint custody of the kids!" I had meant it as a joke, but there was more truth to it than I let on. He was quiet as he digested what I had just admitted.

"Did you ever want more kids?" he asked.

I turned to my side to face him, wondering where this was coming from. I furrowed my eyebrows and responded, "I suppose so. I haven't really thought about it. She had a difficult pregnancy this time around, and the way things are we never thought about having another. But growing up as an only child, I always thought I'd have at least a handful." I laughed remembering my countless arguments with my parents about wanting a brother or sister. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," he said quickly. "I just remember you joking you wanted to field a baseball team." There was the sad look in his eyes again... it was distant and he seemed hesitant again.

"Well, that was before I realized how much work they are!" I shook it off. "I don't want to be an absent father, and I can barely keep track of the two I have. Work doesn't exactly allow me quality time with them, you know?"

"Yeah, I suppose." He leaned down and kissed me. It was unexpected and I jumped a little bit, but then relaxed into the kiss. It wasn't filled with passion like last night's had been, but it was tender and light and natural. "I'm sure you're a good dad. You had a good role model to learn from."

"I hope so." And I really did. Not knowing what was going to happen next was terrifying. I always had a plan, I always knew what I was doing, and for once in my life everything was up in there air... but that's how it always was with Jasper. I never knew what to expect when I was with him, as a friend and now as a lover. For now, all I wanted was to spend this last day and night with him, and not care about returning home or what would happen when I did. I just wanted to relish in this moment and worry about the consequences later.

"What are your plans for today?" I asked hesitantly, trying to find out if he'd tell me if he was going to go home or not.

"Work," he said simply.

"Then what?"

He smiled and leaned down to kiss me again. "Dinner?" he asked and I nodded. "Then..." He smiled suggestively and I laughed.

"Are you going to go home?"

He rolled away from me and sat up, placing his legs over the side of the bed. "I don't know, Edward, probably," he said stretching and yawning. "I have to get some clothes and some other stuff."

"Will you tell her?"

"No," he said without hesitating, his back to me. "Not yet."

"When?"

"Don't," he said. "I don't want to talk about that right now, okay?"

"Okay," I said.

"It's just... let's just enjoy this. Can't we do that?" His shoulders slumped over and he leaned down to grab his boxers off the floor.

"Sorry," I apologized, "you're right... again." I leaned over and touched his back and he sighed, exhaling though his nose.

"I'll be right back," Jasper said, standing up heading for the bathroom holding his boxers in his hand.

I smiled lazily, admiring his form in the morning light while I watched him go. I wondered when my view of the male body had changed... or maybe it was just Jasper's body. Yes, definitely, it was Jasper's body. I thought it would be awkward between us this morning, but it wasn't. It was as natural as it could have been... like it always had been. Me, always worrying about what was next, and him always telling me to take a step back, relax and enjoy the moment. He was absolutely right. There was nothing either of us could do about it now, and with one day left I wanted to enjoy it, so when I did go home, there would be absolutely no doubt in my mind that we had done the right thing.

My thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing sound of one of our phones vibrating on the nightstand. As luck would have it, we both had the same phone, so I picked it up checking to see whose it was.

1 Text Message, the screen read.

I pushed accept and saw that it was Jasper's phone and the message was from his wife. I moved to put it back, but then curiosity got the better of me and I clicked to read the message.

Hey Sweetheart. Did you ask Edward, yet? What did he say? Please call me, I'm dying to hear if he said yes! We'll be a family soon, I can feel it. I love you.

That sick feeling in my stomach returned. At first I thought it was just jealousy at the intimate way his wife spoke to him, but then the hairs on the back of my neck stood up like I had just witnessed something terrible. What was so important to ask me that she would be waiting so impatiently to hear? And then it clicked. My world started to crumble all around me as I lost all feeling in my limbs and the sounds in the room became muffled. All the questions, all the prompts about my family...my children... me being a father.

It was like watching everything happen in slow motion. Jasper came out of the bathroom, and he said something, but I couldn't hear it, all his words became one long low-pitched drowned out sound. I blinked a few times, trying to focus on his words, but it wasn't working. My throat was constricted, while my heart was pounding in my ears, I thought it would shatter as fragile as it was just now if I didn't gain control of it.

I took a deep breath, counting to ten, and then everything stilled. The sounds came rushing back with crystal clarity as the anger swept over my body.

"Edward," I finally heard Jasper's voice, "are you okay? What's wrong?" He stood at the edge of the bed wiping his hands on a towel with a concerned look on his face, but he made no move to comfort me, my face clearing indicating to keep a distance.

I lifted up his phone which was still in my hand.

"What did you need to ask me?" I said, my voice steely and heated.

"What?"

"You have something to ask me, so ask it," I spat out, throwing his phone at him. He caught it and glanced at the screen and the expression on his face dropped.

"Edward." He looked at me sadly.

"Save it." I stood up pulling on my pants. "So that's why all the questions! That's why you don't want to talk about her. You have no intention of leaving her, do you?"

"Edward," he said again, moving toward me.

"Don't. Don't even fucking think about it." I picked up my shirt, throwing it over my head, suddenly wanting every bit of my skin covered up from him. "So what was all this?" I gestured to the bed. "Huh? A pity fuck?" I threw his clothes at him. "Get out."

"Please, just listen," he pleaded.

"Why would I do that? What could you possibly say to me to tell me I'm wrong?" I was close to hitting something. I looked at the wall... I looked at him, and instead clenched my fists hard, willing them to stay steady.

"I don't regret it... it's just... it's just I can't live this life. I don't want to."

"Right... so what the fuck was all this, then?"

"I can see how miserable you are... I just wanted to make you forget. I wanted to make you happy. If I could do this for you then maybe..."

He trailed off, not finishing his sentence so I finished it for him. "So you pimped yourself out so you and your wife could have a baby," I said incredulously. "Wow! And you said you didn't know who I was."

"It's not like that," he said quietly, but not denying my accusation.

"Oh no? Then you want to tell me what it's like? Cause from where I'm standing, it looks to me as if you're a whore, and I'm the fucker that got played. You thought you'd sweeten the deal for me, huh? That if we fucked that was payment enough?"

"No! God damnit! You know how I feel about you, but I love her too and want to give her a child. You're the only one I thought of when we talked about finding a donor. The only one I wanted to share this with."

"Fuck you," I said disgusted. "You're such a fucking hypocrite! You want me to leave my wife, my children but you had no intention of doing the same. You lied to me... this was a fucking lie!" My fist came up and he lifted his jaw, expecting me to hit him... almost as if he wanted me to. "Get out!" I screamed, my chest pounding, breathing heavily with rage. Dropping my hand and my head, I turned to the bathroom and shut the door. I sunk to the floor, and grabbed a towel to try to stifle my cries so he wouldn't hear them. My entire world came crashing down around me in only a few short minutes. I had thrown everything away for him. I couldn't go back and face my family now and pretend that none of this had happened. What was I supposed to do now?

The panic started to lace itself deep within my body until I thought I was surely going to suffocate. I turned on the shower, hoping the sound of it would drown out any of the noises I was making. I hadn't heard him leave, I knew he was still out there, and there was no way I was coming out of this bathroom until he was gone.

Wiping away the steam from the shower, I looked at my disheveled state and my blood shot eyes. I'm ruined, I thought. Broken completely from the lies of a beloved friend, who—in twenty-four hours—had taken me through a gamut of emotions and feelings that I thought had finally been real, only to realize that one more thing in my life was forged. I really did have nothing that was genuine.

I heard a soft tap on the door followed by his voice, "For what it's worth," Jasper sighed, "I love you, that wasn't a lie." I heard the outer door open, and when it clicked closed, I sunk to the floor again.

I had managed to take an excruciating long, hot shower, trying to wash the remnants of the evening off of my skin… the trace of him off of me. I felt used, dirty and so terribly low, that I wasn't sure if I could talk to anyone, even enough just to check out, but my only thought was to get out of Chicago. I needed to leave this place far behind me, I wasn't thinking about anything but that. I knew I had responsibilities to my job, they would be furious that I skipped out of town before I closed the deals and I would probably be fired, but I didn't care, I was beyond all that at the moment.

The elevator doors chimed open, and I held my breath, hoping I could check out without drawing any attention to myself. I saw him at the far end of the lobby, near the concierge desk. His back was turned to me, so I quickly walked to reception with my head down, my garment bag resting on my left shoulder trying to hide my face while I waited for the woman to notice me.

She eventually looked up and said, "Checking out?" I nodded a 'yes' handing her my keycard.

"Would you like that to stay on your credit card, Mr. Cullen?" she asked.

I winced at my name, and sure enough a quick glance in the direction of the concierge confirmed that he had heard it.

His voice echoed across the lobby as he asked the person he was speaking with to excuse himself for a moment.

"Edward! There you are!" he said with laughter in his voice. "But why the bags? You're not scheduled to check out until tomorrow." Alec had reached my side, and with my downcast eyes, I noticed his pocket square was bright yellow this morning, sunny almost, like his disposition, in direct contrast with mine.

He leaned down, trying to look up at my face and his expression fell. He said, frowning, "Oh, dear."

"Alec, please… don't." I glanced at him, and then back to the woman who was taking care of my bill.

"What's he done?" he asked placing a hand on his hip, looking at me over the top of his glasses. I ignored him, turning my back ever so slightly.

"Charlotte? Mr. Cullen's bill will be taken care of, there's no need to check him out. I'll take care of it." He shooed her away with a flick of his hand.

"Please," I whispered, closing my eyes, pleading that he would leave me alone.

"Edward," he said, his tone dropping. "Come into my office?"

"I just want to get out of here," I said through gritted teeth.

"What's happened?" he said again, placing his hand on my arm and I couldn't help but flinch. I didn't want to be touched.

"You'll have to ask him." I pulled away and ran my hand over my face, trying to calm my nerves, distracting myself from letting my emotions take hold.

"Oh believe me, I intend to. But I'd like to hear it from you, too. It's you who looks as though your heart's been trampled on." He tilted his head frowning. "Come… let's go talk."

I took a deep breath, wondering how best to handle this. I no longer wished to be in this hotel, the walls felt as though they were closing in on me and I was having difficulty breathing. There was a pain in my chest and I recognized the signs of yet another anxiety attack just waiting to happen. I grabbed my credit card, and picked up my bag.

After another deep breath, I closed my eyes, turned to Alec and said, "Thank you for taking care of my bill, if you need anything from me, the card's on file."

"Edward…"

"I'm sorry, but I just can't," I said and walked away from him across the lobby to the stairs leading to the parking garage.

I don't remember leaving the city. I had driven through downtown to get to the Skyway, and instead of heading north to the airport, I went south on I90. The thought of sitting in a cramped airplane surrounded by strangers was not exactly something I thought I could handle. I needed to drive. I needed to think and be alone in my thoughts. So that's what I did. Blindly following a highway, not really sure of where I was going, but just driving anyway, heading for a place that seemed to draw me toward it.

Fifteen hours later, I pulled into the driveway to see all the lights in the house were out, which just seemed to compound the idea I was alone. I had hoped that there would be one small lamp in a window to give me a sign that I had made the right decision. With my hand on the car door, I hesitated, second guessing my arrival. It wasn't until I was at the halfway point that I realized where I had been driving, it was as if I was on automatic pilot and my body was seeking solace and comfort, leading me here. The hour was late, much later than I had thought, but time never really meant anything in this house, so I gripped the handle tight and opened the door, forever changing any future that had already been laid out in my path.

I waited with my breath held as I rang the doorbell, wondering if I could run back to the car, even though I knew it was too late to turn back now. After a few minutes the upper lights flicked on, and I heard the footsteps of someone coming down the stairs to the front entrance. The porch light switched on and I winced at the brightness, shielding my tired and, more than likely, bloodshot eyes from it.

The door swung open and there was a collective gasp from the both of us. Mine filled with sorrow, while his was filled with surprise.

"Son!" my father exclaimed, wrapping his housecoat around him from the late night, chilly air. "What are you doing here?"

"Dear? Who is it?" I heard my mother ask from the top of the stairs, her voice heavy with sleep.

"It's Edward," my father answered, ushering me inside.

"Edward?" she said, and the sound of her footsteps rushing down the stairs were followed by her voice. "What's happened?" She came to me, pulling me into a strong embrace, and finally, I could let go all of my demons I'd been holding in for the past fifteen hours, even for the past eight years. I buckled in her arms, sobbing and the two of them held me only as a mother and father could.

"Sshh…" she soothed, caressing my hair. "It will be all right." We were sitting on the floor in front of the door, and all I could do was cry. I couldn't move, I couldn't say anything, my body was racked with guilt and shame and every other emotion that hammered home that I was a failure. My father removed himself, probably putting on some coffee and lighting the fireplace in the living room. He left me with my mother, the one person I needed right now, and let us have our privacy.

"Edward," she said softly, holding me and rocking me just like I remembered she used to do when I was hurt as a child. "Is everyone okay? The children?"

"Fine," I managed to mumble to ease that part that was causing her to worry. She breathed a sigh of relief at the news.

"Okay…" she soothed again. "That's good, that's what matters."

I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but eventually, I had cried myself out, and the two of us were silent. I heard the wood in the fireplace crackling as the flames took hold, and could smell the coffee from the kitchen.

"Come," she said rubbing my back. She took off my jacket, leading me into the living room where my father was sitting, one hand holding a cup of coffee, the other holding his lip in thought. He was staring intently at the fire, and stood up immediately when we walked into the room. He didn't say anything, just poured two more cups of coffee from a carafe and handed me a mug and one to my mother. I could smell the whiskey in it and was overcome with gratitude at how much comfort my parents were offering. I was shaking, my teeth were chattering uncontrollably, and I couldn't make them stop.

"The whiskey should help," he said, smiling sadly, and immediately the shame came rushing back, as I thought about what I had just done, and wondered how I could possibly tell them.

We all sat in silence for awhile, as I fought hard to gain control of my shivers. He was right though, the whiskey helped through the shock of it all.

Eventually, my mother sat her mug down, rubbing my thigh gently, and asked, "Can you tell us what's happened?"

I shook my head, the tears running down my cheeks, but the sobs had stopped, these were silent tears that I couldn't seem to get under control.

"I'm ashamed," I said, finally. My voice sounded foreign to me, I hadn't spoken in over 15 hours and it was raw and strangled almost.

"Son, there's nothing you can't tell us." My father leaned forward, and he placed his hand over my mother's, which was still resting on my thigh.

I grew up in this house. These walls held so much adoration and reassurance, the only place I ever felt truly loved. I was a grown man now, but this place would always be my home… these people, my parents, were the only two people who had ever loved me unconditionally. I had nowhere else to go, there was nowhere else I wanted to be. With a heavy heart, I told them everything, from the first day I met Jasper, to last night's endeavors. We talked until the sun rose, and while I left out a lot of the details to spare them from any embarrassment, I was honest with them, for the first time in many, many years.