Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chapter 24 Turbulence
BPOV
Dutch courage to admit what you want is one thing but actually doing it is quite another.
Fortunately the natural comedian that is Em rescues me before Edward can utter a word, carrying me off to the dance floor caveman style.
It's not until we're in a cab on the way home that the reality of the situation dawns on me, I can't put a finger on what I'm freaking out about exactly but I am positively vibrating with freak. And it both helps and doesn't help when Edward quietly takes my hand and calmly runs his thumb over the back of it.
When he told me, in Rose's guest room that night, that he wanted to try I was flabbergasted, in less than twenty four hours he'd gone there from 'I think we should stop'. His reasoning could have been described as logical but all I could see was a fast ride to a broken heart. And I wasn't getting on board for that so I did the only thing I could think of, I asked for time. I didn't think I'd give it any serious thought, after all I'm not noted for being a crazy person.
But I did.
And I can't entirely blame Rose and her 'I think he actually does love you' crap. Because I'm not entirely convinced she's wrong. Or at least I don't want to be entirely convinced that she's wrong.
Oh fuck . . . .
It's not very romantic but if I view Edward's words as a business pitch they do make sense.
We're friends. We care about each other. We can't keep out hands off each other. If we talk, which we've proved we can do, we might be able to make this work, we might be able to make each other happy. And if we can't then we're big enough to stay friends.
Win, win.
A fresh start he said. No different to any other couple that meet and are attracted to each other, they don't know how it's going to end either.
I know I want you he said. And I know I don't want anybody else, he said. I just don't know what that means, he said.
...
Sunday morning is a long lazy breakfast, cooked by Alice and Rose, much to the relief of my guests.
I'd been at a fever pitch of freak when we got in last night but Edward had simply pressed a kiss to my forehead and made a big show of clearing everyone and everything off the couch so he could go to bed. Considerate of him I'd acknowledged, nevertheless feeling wistful as I'd made my own way to bed.
Right now we're all lounging around in the 'culinary space' drinking coffee and fighting good naturedly over the newspaper sections. But there's a doom hanging over our heads. Serious shopping. Both Alice and Rose want New Year's dresses. I'm not much of a shopper, never having had the money when I was younger and having had an Aro for several years since. On this I am apparently a traitor to my sex because I join in with the whining from Edward, Em and Jasper.
Not that it does any of us any good at all, on the stroke of noon Alice is ushering us out the door with Rose's motivated assistance.
Edward and I stroll along at the back, silent and awkward again until he takes my hand.
"What's this party tonight?" He asks.
"Some women's magazine."
"Hmm."
"It was voted the best last year and its sales are streets ahead of any other at the moment."
"Hmm. What time's the photographer tomorrow?"
"Two I think."
"Will you have lunch with me first?"
"Okay."
He squeezes my hand and we stroll on in silence.
...
The party was actually quite good and though we didn't get a chance to talk Edward and I managed to exchange more than a few words, jokes and smiles. Especially when Alice cut both us and Jasper off at two drinks warning that she didn't want our inability to hold our drink ruining the photographs. How well she knows us.
...
I didn't think she'd give me any trouble about changing her schedule to have lunch alone with her brother but I could have done without the squealing, I was fucking nervous enough already.
And I could have done without the fuckers all waving us out the door like a couple of teenagers going on their first date.
But shit if that wasn't just how I was feeling . . . .
"Bella." Edward murmurs taking my hand as we descend in the elevator. "We're going to eat lunch, we're grown-ups, we do it all the time."
"Okay."
"Okay."
...
"This place is great." I observe once we're seated. "How did you find it?"
"I cheated." He chuckles, going a bit pink.
"Cheated?"
"I asked Demetri." He admits. "His girlfriend works here."
"Ah."
"Ah?"
"Ah. I knew he had a girlfriend but not that she worked here. I wonder which one she is?"
"I have no idea." Edward shrugs. "Demetri and I aren't close enough to share that kind of information. Although . . . ."
"Although?"
"Although he did express the hope that I was in possession of a seriously big shovel and a genuine desire to use it. What did you tell him?"
"Nothing."
"Hmm." He observes, perusing the menu. "He's protective of you."
"It's his job." My turn to shrug.
"You pay him to put the fear of God into potential boyfriends?" Edward asks with a smile.
"From time to time." I drawl as the waitress returns to take our orders. "But you'd have been a freebie."
Edward laughs and we both order steak.
Conversation is light while we eat but I can feel it coming, like an ominous storm, the heavy stuff.
"So." Edward says when our plates been cleared and coffees poured.
"So." I respond, fighting the urge to fidget or flee.
"Bella, I know you really hate talking about this stuff, I do too. But it's important."
"I know that." I sigh. "But I'm entirely blaming you for it being necessary."
"That's fair enough. And I'm sorry. But, I, we . . . ." He smiles ruefully. "You're right, this is really fucking hard."
I smile to myself, somewhat mollified by his epic lack of suaveness until he reaches across the table and takes my hand gently in both of his, eyes becoming dark and serious.
Oh fuck . . . .
"Did you mean what you said?" He asks. "About giving us a chance?"
I'd really love to remind him that wasn't exactly what I said but I can't because that was exactly what I meant.
"I'm scared." I admit.
"So am I."
"That's not very reassuring." I point out, trying to pull my hand away but failing miserably.
"I think it's okay to be scared." He murmurs. "This is new, to both of us. I'm not asking for . . . . I just want us to start again, and see, like everyone else does. And I really believe, hope, that if we're honest with each other, we can work out whatever we need to as we go along."
"You mean the epic failure 'how can we stay friends now' part?" I can't help asking.
"And if we're there already?"
"I don't hate you yet." I inform him, going for his weak spot. That was his fear, that if we didn't work out as a couple he'd lose me completely, because it would prove once and for all that he's defective, not good enough for me.
"I could never hate you." He counters, recognising what I'm doing.
"You could Edward, Jake did, in the end."
"That's not the same and it's not true." He growls quietly. "We aren't going to treat each other like that. And he doesn't hate you, he's on the list of people that cares about you enough to have vowed to kick my ass if I fuck this up."
"And yet you still want to do it?"
"Yes."
Oh fuck . . . .
"We live in different states. We have busy lives. Careers. Our family . . . ."
"Yes." He states again. "We do. We have. I still want to do it. Do you?"
Oh fuck . . . .
"I might do."
He smiles.
"Edward." I warn.
"Bella." He chuckles. "We're late, Alice is going to kill us."
...
Edward settles the check and we hustle outside to hail a cab which deposits us at the photographer's studio before I have a chance to collect my scattered wits.
Through the glass doors we can see Alice talking animatedly to a rather frightened looking young man but Edward pulls me to a stop as I move to push the doors open.
"Bella, will you have dinner with me on Christmas Eve?"
"Esme's Open House?" I gasp.
"I'm hoping, though I've never tested it, that the 'open' part is the key." He chuckles. "We can go out to dinner and then come back."
"To Esteban's?"
"To Esteban's."
"Okay."
"Okay."
The outer door opens with a blast of cold air and Char and Pete hurry in with the babies.
"You're late." Edward observes, nodding his head at Alice through the doors.
"So are you." Char fires back, as sharp as ever.
"United front?" Pete suggests.
Laughing I push the glass doors open to a welcome wave of heat.
...
I can't go the airport with them because I have a dinner engagement for work so I bid them goodbye at the studio before Demetri collects me to take me t the office so I can change, my cheek still tingling from Edward's chaste kiss.
I hope they don't think it's strange that he's not taking them to the airport, I asked him to but he refused because of the stalkery radicchio.
...
Dinner is fruitful for Cask but the weekend has worn me out and I collapse on the bed fully clothed, too tired to worry about anything until the alarm wakes me in the morning.
...
There are flowers in my office.
Not the usual brash stuff either, Freesias, my favourites.
I pick up the card.
'Till Christmas Eve, Edward'
Oh fuck . . . .
...
Work, party, work, party, work.
It's all the same . . . .
...
"You did the right thing." Rose assures me through the phone.
"Did I?"
"He's a fuckwit, but he's your fuckwit, if you want him."
"What if he can never love me?"
"You mean what if he can never say it?"
"I don't have your faith."
"Fine Cyggers, just borrow my balls."
...
Work, party, work, party, work, work, work . . . .
...
"You want to turn them all down?" Lauren asks incredulously as I hand her the list and the tickets for New York's most sought after New Year's parties.
"All of them." I confirm.
"But what are you going to do, where are you going to go?"
"I have no idea."
She wants to ask me if I'm insane, I know she does, but she hasn't the nerve.
"You take whichever ones you want." I inform her, leaving the tickets on her desk as I head out to have walking lunch with Demetri.
...
I am still mad with Edward, and by extension Em, this situation is making me question a lot of things. Principally what I've accepted as opposed to what I've wanted. Or more specifically my lack of thought about what I've wanted.
It's uncomfortable.
There are some obvious things, like getting off my ass first week of the New Year and getting out of my apartment and into something I want. Not that I'm going to find what I want in the city which leads onto a whole host of other things that I need to think about but can't.
Oh fuck . . . .
...
Edward and I have texted a few times, light and friendly, and spoken once.
I don't know what to make of that as I board my plane on Christmas Eve, its felt totally normal and I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. All I know is that the thought of going out to dinner with him tonight, an activity that even I can't pass off as not being a date, has me in a tail spin.
Turbulence causes the plane to drop suddenly.
Shit, tail spin, such a poor choice of words . . . .