A/N: Have I told you all lately that I love you?

Cuz I do.

I will not be a jealous ass. I will not be a jealous ass. I will not be a jealous ass.

Edward clutched the arm of his chair, trying not to glower. Beside him at the dinner table, his wife's head was turned not attentively toward him, but to the man who sat beside her, Jacob Black.

As Emmett had asserted, Jacob was a nice sort of man with a sunny disposition and a sense of humor that matched. Edward had liked him quite a bit on their first meeting.

Of course, his like for the man had soured somewhat when it became obvious how much he enjoyed Bella's company. And how much the sentiment was returned.

Taking a long, slow drink of his wine, Edward reminded himself just how hard things could be for Bella. Still an outsider, she didn't really have many friends outside of Alice and Esme. Those women who did call socially - Jessica and Angela chiefly - spoke, like most women, of the gossip about town and the business of keeping house. Neither subject held particular interest for Bella.

Jacob, on the other hand, was easy to talk to, and spoke to her with as much respect as he would any other man, taking her opinions into account carefully during any discussion. More than that, he made her laugh.

Many men in his position would have chafed at the attention Bella was paying to another man. It was a logically ridiculous notion that women could not have friends of the male persuasion. Edward had absolutely no doubt that his wife loved him, adored him even. He continuously told himself there was no reason why he should want to kick Jacob out of his house. Bella deserved friendship where she could get it.

He slipped his hand under the table, squeezing her knee briefly. Bella glanced over, seeming to realize she'd been talking to Jacob rather than to the rest of the table, and straightened in her seat.

Dinner continued without much issue, but Edward kept his hand at Bella's knee, occasionally squeezing. She didn't acknowledge his gesture, but she didn't push him away either.

Finally, Jacob began to make his goodbyes.

"You must join us for our Christmas Ball, Jacob," Alice said as she walked with him to the door. "It's three weeks from tomorrow."

He paused, looking from Alice to Edward and back again. "That's very kind of you, Miss Cullen, but are you sure that's what you want?"

As Jacob well knew, it was one thing to have an Indian man over for a private dinner. It was quite another to invite him to a party.

Quieting his admittedly irrational distaste for the man, Edward cleared his throat. "I'll see to it that you get an invitation," he said decisively.

Jacob's smile was brilliant. "A proper shindig, eh? Well, time to buy a new suit."

When he was gone and they were alone for the moment - the women in another part of the house, going about the business of preparing children and themselves for bed, Emmett clapped his little brother on the shoulder. "You've learned to control your temper somewhat," he said, his voice teasing. "I'm impressed. I thought you were going to leap across the table and take a swing at him."

Edward made a face at his brother. "What, and embarrass Mother?" He shook his head. "I need a drink."

"If my wife preferred the friendly company of men, I would need a drink too," Emmett said with a chuckle. "As it is, Rosalie is rarely fond of anyone."

He walked to the bar, pouring two tumblers of whiskey, and held one out to his brother. Edward took it, drinking it all and ignoring the burn in his throat.

"Incidentally, little brother, that wife of yours has eyes for no one but you," Emmett said lightly.

At that, Edward did smile. "Yes. I'm aware."

~0~

By the time the house was quiet and everyone had retired to their rooms, alcohol and foolish male territorial nature had been long simmering in the pit of Edward's belly. He was watching Bella as she sat in front of her vanity, brushing out and plaiting her hair.

That was the first sign he should have noticed. She didn't usually plait her hair. There was no point if he was just going to muss it again.

Still, that little fact didn't seep into his consciousness. He watched her, his gaze fiercely catlike, and she stared back at him in the mirror.

When she stood, he stood, and crossed the room. His hands on her shoulders, he leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her head, and his lips brushed only cheek.

Startled, he stepped back, his hands still on her arms. She turned back to him, her gaze steady.

"Is there something you wish to tell me?"

He blinked, his mind muddled by the alcohol. He tried for his most seductive grin. "Speaking is not forefront in my mind at the moment." He tried to kiss her again only to be met with the side of her head once more. This time, he stepped away from her entirely.

She'd folded her arms and was staring at him pointedly.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair and feeling out of sorts. "Do you have something you wish to say to me?" he deflected.

Scrunching her nose, she walked to their bed and sat, looking up at him. "I thought I was imagining it the last time Jacob was here, but now I know I'm not."

"Imagining what?" he asked tightly.

"You glare at him," she snapped. "Edward, if you don't wish me to speak to him, that is your right to ask. I will obey, though I can guarantee I will not be happy about it."

"I..." Frustrated, Edward blew out a long breath. "That's not what I want."

She stood, splaying her hands on his chest. "Tonight, you looked at me like I was something you owned, like you were looking at me just a moment ago. You've never made me feel like that."

His hands at her waist, he tugged her closer. "Do you remember what you told me the first day on the train before we were married?"

Her glare faltered.

"You are mine as I am yours," he reminded her. "You know I don't think I own you."

She arched an eyebrow. "As you must know that Jacob Black is harmless. Not he, nor any other man, is a threat to you."

Edward's laugh was hard, and he pulled her up against him, wrapping her in his arms. "I wish that were true," he murmured. "But there are forces yet that may conspire to take you away from me, and so I am wary." Spinning her around lightly, he stepped her backward until she was leaning against the wall and he was leaning into her. "He does look at you that way, you know. As if the thought has crossed his mind."

Winding her arms around him, she stroked the back of his neck. "I think you are mistaken. Either way, looking and acting are two different things." She regarded him curiously, breathing in deep. "If it truly makes you unhappy for me to speak to him-"

"It makes me unhappy to think of you unhappy," he murmured, tilting his head to nip lightly at her neck. "The thought of any other man thinking of you like this..." His fingers tugged up at her sides, hiking her nightgown up, exposing her shapely thighs. "I'm sorry, my love. The things you do to me, I can't always explain."

She said nothing, but whimpered when he kissed her, arching her body up against him, tugging him closer.

"Do you forgive me," he asked, hitching her leg up on his waist. He kissed her again. "Forgive me."

"Perhaps," she said, her voice breathy.

He chuckled because he knew he was forgiven. Still, he snaked his hand between them, cupping her over her gown. He watched her to make sure she wasn't uncomfortable. They were both still so new at this, discovering together what their proper upbringings could never teach them.

He was learning she wasn't made of glass, that she welcomed his touch, and was not, as some pretty prose might have believe, as tender and fragile as a flower. She was learning that it was not so undesirable an attribute to be an active participant in their love making.

"Forgive me," he asked again, the words ending in a low moan when her hands tugged at his pants, pulling them down.

"Perhaps," she said again.

They didn't make it as far as their bed that evening. Instead, Edward pulled Bella down on the carpet by the fire.

After all, the night was chilly. It wouldn't do to have his wife catch cold.

~0~

Every other week or so found Edward in the small back office of the grocery store he now owned, going over ledgers and otherwise seeing to the business end of things.

As per usual, Mr. Jenks had left a small stack of letters dead center on the desk. This had become his habit - his not so subtle statement - after he'd argued himself blue in the face and come to the conclusion that Edward could not be shaken in his desire to open his store to all peoples. Jenks gritted his teeth and, at Edward's express direction, treated all people who patronized the store with respect. However, when letters arrived - which they frequently did - protesting Edward's decision and further withdrawing patronage from the store, he left these front and center so Edward could not ignore them.

And Edward did not ignore them. Every day he sat down, he took those letters, put them into his briefcase, and went about business. Each were answered with the utmost politeness and sincerity. Each writer was assured that Edward thanked them in the highest for looking out for his establishment - which many of them swore would be ripped to pieces by the various savage races - and thanked them for their past purchases. He wished them sincere luck in establishing a relationship with some other grocer, and added that he was sorry to see them go... especially as he had recently acquired this or that item that he knew was of particular interest to them.

The ploy had a mildly good success rate, but those customers that did not get over their aversion did not bother Edward. Those that boycotted his store were welcome to do so. Profits continued to rise, given the increase in patrons the store saw.

Privately, he'd sat through several dinners where he'd had to nod politely, pretending to be truly listening to impassioned pleas of what a good, holy man would do. Likewise, Bella had taken tea with many a concerned wife and mother begging her to talk sense into her husband.

He knew that the gossip mongers thought him foolish and pig-headed. They melodramatically talked amongst themselves that this would surely bring ruination and squalor to their prim, pristine lives.

It was going on two months since Edward had taken over the store and, despite their dramatics, life seemed to go on as normal.

"You've another dissenter, sir," Jenks commented, stepping into the office one afternoon.

Edward glanced up. "Well, add the letter to today's pile, and I'll deal with it when I get home," he entreated.

"This one has come in person. Mr. James Hunter wishes to speak with you presently."

It took some effort for Edward to keep the distaste from his expression. He'd had thankfully little exposure to James and wished to keep it that way. "Fine," he said slowly, setting his pen down. "Send him in."

Hunter appeared a moment later, all charming, dangerous grins. They shook hands, and Edward offered a drink. They sat down across from each other, too close in the small space for Edward's comfort.

"How is that sweet little wife of yours, Edward?" James asked, and Edward had to taper down the urge to punch the other man in the jaw at the slow smile that spread across his face.

"She is well, thank you."

"You haven't managed to get her big in the belly yet, eh? I'll admit, I'd have no patience for that sort of thing. As luck would have it, Victoria conceived very shortly after our wedding," the man said conversationally.

Edward bristled. He hated the way this man spoke, as if his wife was a breeding mare instead of a person. And how ignorant he sounded - as if Bella was failing at some task by not having conceived a child as of yet. "Mr. Hunter," he said through clenched teeth. "Mr. Jenks intimated that you had some business with me."

James looked amused at Edward's deflection, but nodded. "Then let's cut the pleasantries and get right to it, shall we? I'm curious, Edward, as to what you think you're getting at, doing what you're doing here. Is it your aim to upset people?"

"I'm not sure what you mean. This is a grocers. My aim here is to sell groceries."

"Edward," James chastised. "You know of what I speak. Your clientele leaves much to be desired. It's not right, what you're doing, bringing filth to such a beautiful neighborhood as ours."

At that, Edward had to chuckle.

"You find your actions humorous, sir?" James asked, his voice hardening slightly.

"My actions?" Edward returned easily. "No. I find my actions that of a man wishing to turn a profit like any other. What I find humorous is the idea that my clientele is, as you say, filth. You have a negro servant, do you not?"

"Yes. Charles. His mother was my father's slave."

Edward grimaced but didn't comment further. "When Charles is in his uniform, he frequented this store to purchase goods for your household. Now, he can come here after hours to purchase goods for his own family. Really, Mr. Hunter, what is so filthy about a man providing for his family?"

The conversation continued for a time in this vein - James trying to get Edward to see the error of his ways and Edward mildly pointing out the illogical thought process that the color of a man's skin dictated his behavior.

"Let me put this another way," James finally said. "I will be clear with my intentions. It's my desire to find a place in the running of our great state and further, our great country. The world is changing, my friend. You'll want to be on the right side of that change." He tilted his head, the look in his eyes glinting with a spark of veiled anger. "I would hate to think you and your family might be ruined by your poor choices today."

Edward sat stewing in the little office for a long time after James left. There was no part of him that was scared by James's subtle threat. In fact, he was livid. More than ever, the idea of James finding his way to the political arena seemed like it could only equate to disaster for the country he'd fought so hard for.

He stood, suddenly eager to be home where he could talk to Bella. There were more ideas brewing in his head, and he knew he could trust his wife to be honest with him. If he was being foolish or impetuous, she would tell him so.

~0~

Edward arrived home an hour or so later, having stopped by the florist to pick out a pretty bouquet for Bella. After all, she hadn't technically forgiven him for being rude to their guest and embarrassing her with his territorial nature.

"Alice," he said as he walked in the door, setting the flowers down momentarily on the end table. "There's a letter from Jasper for you."

He watched the way her eyes lit up and she reached eagerly for the correspondence. He quickly pulled it out of her reach. "Should I be reading these letters?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

His little sister glared. "He's written to me, not to you," she said shortly, grabbing the letter from his hand. "For goodness sakes, Edward. He talks of nothing but his son and how much he misses seeing him, that's all. It'd do no good for him to write to you about it. You aren't around Peter to have much to say."

"Oh, that's not true, is it buddy?" he asked, stooping to pull Peter - who had toddled over when he heard his father's name being bandied about - up into his arms. "Oof. See? I know that Peter grows like a weed. I think he will skip directly from three to a great boy of six or seven at this rate."

Peter looked at him, apparently decided he was amusing and giggled. Then he reached for the letter in Alice's hand. When she obligingly gave it to him, he turned it over in his tiny boy hands, looking curious. Jasper had last sent him a relatively large package filled with games and toys for his birthday.

"Nothing for you today, buddy," Edward murmured, bouncing the boy to coax a smile out of him. He swapped Peter into Alice's arms. "Where's Bella?"

"Laying down in your room," his sister answered.

Edward furrowed his eyebrows. "Laying down? At this hour?"

"She's not feeling well. Doctor Gerandy was here earlier, and-"

Edward didn't stay long enough to hear Alice's words. Though he had the urge to treat his wife's every headache or sniffle as a national emergency, Bella took illness in stride. If she had summoned the doctor, there had to be something very, very wrong.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he hurried to their room. He calmed only slightly when he saw her whole. Even from across the room, he could see her breaths were even and not labored.

Quiet as possible, Edward removed his hat, jacket, shoes, and tie. Bella stirred when he climbed into bed with her, and rolled over, snuggling close against him, letting him gather her into his arms.

Her skin, as he kissed her forehead, was clammy and more pale than usual.

"Bella," he murmured, kissing along her hairline. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she promised. "The sickness has passed for the moment. I'm a little shaky is all."

"Hmm." It sounded like she was trying to convince herself as well as him. Moving his hands to cup her cheeks, he brought her face up so he could look her in the eyes. She certainly seemed very tired but also, there was a touch of inexplicable nervousness reflected in her normally warm, soothing brown. "Are you certain? Bella, if there's something wrong..."

"Nothing is wrong," she said more firmly, shifting closer to him. "I don't feel well. Please, just hold me," she asked quietly.

He tightened his grip around her, hating that she was hurting even in the slightest. "I brought flowers for you, but I seem to have left them downstairs," he murmured, trying to think of something that would make her happy, distract her from whatever small malady had struck her.

"I'm sure they're very pretty."

He raised a hand again, stroking her cheek. "I had planned to surprise you at Christmas, but given my behavior recently, perhaps now is a better time," he mused aloud. "What would you say to taking a trip this summer? I was thinking to Italy or possibly England. We can visit the stage where Shakespeare's plays first saw light. Would that not please you?"

For a second, her eyes lit up, but then she seemed to shrink backward, her expression uncertain. "That would please me quite a bit," she said in a whisper. "But I must decline your generous gift, my husband."

Edward blinked, sure that he had to have heard her wrong. "You don't wish to travel? I thought-"

"I do wish to travel," she interrupted quickly. "I just think that this summer will find me quite unable to go that far from home."

Edward's heart skipped a beat as he tried to wrap his head around what she was trying to say. She was biting her lower lip fiercely, her expression oddly shy and uncertain. "What are you saying?" he asked finally. Though he thought he knew, he didn't dare hope.

"I'm saying... I'm going to have a baby," she said quietly.

At her words, Edward was absolutely powerless to stop the grin that spread, quickly tugging at the sides of his cheeks - a smile larger than his face was capable of holding. "You are certain?" he asked breathlessly, his hands on either side of her face. "This is not another bad bowl of clam chowder?'

Her lips quirked up, clearly happy to see his barely contained joy. "I'm sure. Dr. Gerandy confirmed my suspicions today."

"Your suspicions? How long have you suspected?"

"Just the last week," she assured. "I didn't want to get your hopes up." She raised a hand stroking his cheek. "You're happy?"

"Of course!" Happy was putting it mildly. He was exultant. His elation was such that he was surprised he hadn't rocketed straight to the moon. "Oh, Bella..." he murmured, peppering her face with kisses.

She giggled at his antics, wrapping her arms around his neck as he shifted so he was hovering above her.

Just as quickly as he began, Edward sat up, putting some distance between them. "I'm not... I don't want to hurt you."

"You will not hurt me," she said, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She reached for him again.

"But last night... I was... we were..." Suddenly his head was filled with a thousand different worries. They'd been less than gentle the night before. He'd taken her on the floor for pity's sake!

"Stop being silly," she demanded, pulling him back down toward her.

He acquiesced but was careful as he lay back down with her, holding her close but not too tight.

Putting a hand on her still flat stomach, he allowed himself to wonder at the miracle beneath his fingers. It was a rite as old as the world, but no less astounding to him because it had been the beginning of every person.

They'd created life together.

"When?" he asked, his throat tight with emotion.

"Mid-summer, the doctor believes."

He smiled again and laughed, joy quickly overtaking his worries. "Mid-summer," he repeated wonderingly. He kissed her again, this kiss slow and serious. "Bella, do you know how much I love you?"

"I know," she said against his lips. "As I love you."

Those minutes they spent in bed together, quietly celebrating their love and the life they'd sparked together, the rest of the worrisome world faded away. For those minutes, life, the universe, and everything was exactly as it was meant to be.

A/N: I loved that the lot of you thought she was pregnant last time. Well, she wasn't then. She is now. 3

Thanks to barburella and GinnyW, and to all of you. Your response means the world to me. I'm sorry I haven't been able to stop and reply.

MWAH.