Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chapter 29 Whitehead
BPOV
When I was a child I wore panties. Renee made me after what I now think was probably a very embarrassing conversation she had with the nice lady that ran the kindergarten. When I started to wobble up top she bought me a training bra. Thereafter if any of these things needed replacing I made a lighting raid on Wal-Mart or Target. My 'intimate apparel' was a source of amusement to Rose when we met, and later, a source of great sadness to Alice. Nevertheless other than downgrading the amount of fabric I required in my panties and waxing the contents, not a lot changed.
Until Aro.
So you'd think I'd have been prepared for the conversation that followed Rose throwing me under the bus, but you'd be wrong.
Aro has both seen me in and discussed my underwear with me and in my defence I stopped blushing about it several years ago. However these conversations tended to be technical and result in him placing an order with La Perla for the constructions required to go under my couture and the packages arriving a few days later.
In short I was in no way prepared for the hour of hell that followed no matter how much I learned about enticing men to vigorously 'put out' with the aid of strategically exposed lingerie . . . .
...
"You don't have to talk to me if you're tired."
"I do." Edward yawns. "I'm sorry, horses don't seem to want to give birth in the daylight hours for some reason. This job would be much easier if I were a vampire."
"I can't imagine you that pale or with pointy teeth."
"But you love it when I nibble on your neck."
"That's nibbling, not sucking the life out of me, I don't get how anyone can find that sexy."
"My nibbling is sexy?"
"I didn't say that." Coy? Bella? Really?
"Bel-la." Edward croons. "Either my nibbling is sexy or it isn't and I really think you should tell me, for our, um, on-going mutual satisfaction."
"You don't know?" I ask, poking the bear so to speak.
"I am fairly certain, from the sounds you make, that you don't find my nibbling unsexy but I'm a scientist at heart and definitive proof is always welcome."
"I tell you what then Edward, you bring your best nibble on Saturday and I'll let you know what I think."
He really does have the lowest sexiest laugh, it actually makes you squirm in your seat . . . .
"Alright Bella. Challenge accepted."
...
I should be paying attention to this meeting but I find that I am unable to care about energy saving glass in our new plant in . . . . where ever the fuck it is, ah, Guangdong. Everybody else seems excited about it though, what did I miss?
...
The week proceeds slowly for some reason.
My 'getting laid' lingerie arrives at the office with written reminders from Aro on how to use it. Kill me now.
I finish packing up and labelling the contents of my apartment, noting that it was a depressingly short job completed well ahead of schedule.
I attend two business dinners and make a brief appearance at the gallery opening of a 'friend'. And I do mean brief, Demetri didn't even park the long black car, he just drove round the block a couple of times.
Char and I share a long drunken lunch and buy some shoes we didn't need and didn't want.
Edward and I talk and text.
And finally, at an inexcusably early hour on Saturday morning, Demetri hands me my carry-on and waves me onto my Kentucky flight.
Edward picks me up in his Aston Martin, the show off, and we set off for Harry's place just outside Indianapolis in high spirits.
...
As Edward storms up the long winding drive a smile breaks out on my face. I've only ever been here once before and I thought it was perfection, broad sweeps of grass, white fences, glossy horses, majestic trees that look like they were deliberately planted to enhance the view from the sprawling house and hide the myriad outbuildings. Even in the chill of January it's beautiful.
"Who's the show jumper?" Edward asks as we pass the ménage full of colorful fences.
"It used to be Sue, she won an Olympic medal, but she retired a few years ago and now she trains others. I think I remember someone telling me they pay a fortune to stable their horses here so they can work with her."
"I thought I'd heard of her, she breeds horses now too."
I laugh at the expression on his face.
"Does it not count if they aren't thoroughbreds?"
"No, it counts, a top show jumper can sell for more than a race horse." Now it's his turn to laugh as we curve around the drive and past the enormous tank parked in the middle of the grass. "I take it that's Harry's?"
"Yes. He did tell me what it was but I've forgotten."
"Its an M26 Pershing." Edward chuckles as he pulls up in front of the house.
"Okay then."
"World War Two." He adds as he climbs out of the car to come around for me. "Very big gun."
...
The visit started well enough, Edward and Harry bonded over the tank, Sue served lunch and we reminisced, sometimes tearfully, about The Old Man. After we'd eaten Sue took Edward off to see the horses and Harry and I settled in his study to talk about First Beach and his 'retirement'. I wasn't surprised to learn that he wasn't ready for it, or that Sue didn't mind as long as he at least cut back on his hours. It was easy for me to agree, Harry is First Beach and I'm pretty sure we'll end up selling it when he does finally retire.
Though he'd aged a lot since I last saw him he's still an incredibly vibrant man and I didn't even notice the passage of time as he brought me up to speed on his family and then the exciting new book he was about to publish. He called it Docu Fiction and I was absolutely fascinated by the editing and publishing process he described . . . .
"Books!" A voice trills as the study door bangs open. "Always books with you Daddy."
"Bella." Harry chuckles, rising from his chair to embrace the newcomer. "You've met my daughter haven't you?"
"Yes I have. Hello." I get to my feet and offer her my hand which she shakes with ego slashing disinterest.
"Come on." She urges, dragging him away and leaving me to follow. "Mommy has the divine Edward on a horse and it's too funny for words . . . ."
I can't remember if I liked her when I met her before, she was all over Edward like a cheap suit so I guess I must have just tuned her out. But I think, possibly, maybe, that I don't like her now. Divine Edward? Humph.
Like everyone else in the world apart from Char, Alice and I she has long legs and I practically have to run to keep up with them as they exit the house and cross the yard to the indoor school, where Edward is indeed on a horse. Only he doesn't look funny to me, those long thighs, hard muscles flexing as the horse moves and jumps . . . . I assume a veterinarian would notice if I swallow my tongue . . . . at least I hope he would . . . .
Eventually The Daughter's voice penetrates my fog of lust, instantly dissipating the hazy molecules so that it can irritate the living fuck out of me. Harry is smiling at her indulgently and she isn't saying anything objectionable, she really isn't. But I'd still quite like to throw her face down in the nearest pile of droppings and suffocate her . . . .
Oh my god. Am I . . . . jealous?
Oh god I am.
She's seen those thighs unclothed, touched them, probably squeezed them in horny wonder. Fuck, maybe they've even held her up in the shower . . . .
I feel sick.
"Bella? Are you alright? You look a little pale. Here, sit down." Harry guides me over to an upturned bucket.
"Bella?" I hear Edward call.
"Is she alright?" Sue asks, hurrying over.
"Pfft." The Daughter dismisses. "She's fine, probably not used to all the dust in here. Edward, that was wonderful, she's such a difficult mare . . . ."
"Excuse me." He says politely as he rides past her and dismounts while the horse is still in motion. So polite. And athletic.
"Here." Sue says, taking the reins from him
"Bella, love, are you alright?" Edward demands, edging Harry out of the way so he can hunker down in front of me.
I shake my head to clear it but his concerned face and over bright green eyes have rendered me speechless.
"Bella, please, what's wrong? Does anything hurt?"
Yes. No. I don't know. God he looks so worried and I'm being so completely ridiculous.
"I . . . . I'm fine . . . . it is dusty in here though."
"Let's get you outside. Can you stand?"
I nod and Edward helps me to my feet, clamping me firmly to his side and walking me slowly out with Harry and The Daughter trailing in our wake.
"Deep breaths." He orders and I comply even though I suspect there's actually fuck all wrong with me that a slap to the face wouldn't cure.
I feel so incredibly stupid right now, clinging to him like some damsel in distress but his warm chest does feel lovely against my cheek and his arms do feel nice around me. And The Daughter's face does look like someone's smacked it with a decomposing fish . . . .
...
"Are you sure you're alright?" Edward asks for the millionth time as we speed back to his barn through the gathering darkness.
I nod and squeeze his fingers which are entwined with mine.
He says we should talk to each other, tell each other what's going on in our heads, but how much is too much? Surely it's not a good idea to share every mental pimple? Or giant chin defining whitehead in this particular instance . . . .
But, I don't know what the fuck just happened and who else would I ask about it? Rose. Thing is, I know what Rose will say, about fucking time and welcome to the real world. And I already get that part, I really do. What I care more about, am more interested in, is Edward's take on it. His take on me for feeling it. Which I'm not going to get if I don't . . . . jesus I really hate him right now . . . .
"Edward?"
"Hmm?"
Chew lip, chew lip, fuck it . . . .
"Do you ever get jealous?"
He's quiet for a moment, sneaking a sideways glance at me.
"Warm, slightly tight chest envy like when I see William's name on our headed notepaper? Or green gut gnawing nausea like when anyone used to mention Jake around me?"
"Um, the second one." Breathe Bella, breathe.
"More often than I'd let myself think about." He admits. "Remember Steve Slominski?"
"The basketball team captain in college?" Tall, gangly, awkward as fuck?
"Yeah. Old SS was totally hot for you. I used to fantasise about beating the shit out of him in the showers."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because you weren't mine. Then."
Oh Edward, I was totally yours. Then. If you'd just asked . . . .
"Why the question?" He asks quietly.
"You know why."
"I know part why. You know talking is really . . . ."
"Shut up Edward! I'm getting there."
"Okay."
"Humph."
Kentucky, the trees and the odd horse, is very pretty when briefly illuminated by the main beams of an Aston Martin.
"You slept with her."
"I did." He confirms and I don't know what to make of the fact he didn't try to joke about it. Good, maybe? Except now I don't know what to say . . . .
"I . . . . fuck . . . ." He groans. "How much information is too much Bella?"
"I don't know." I admit. "I don't think it's the details that bother me, but I've never felt like this before . . . ."
"You're jealous? Of her?"
"Well yeah." I admit feeling incredibly stupid again.
"Oh god." He moans, squeezing my fingers so hard I almost snatch them to safety. "Don't be Bella. Don't ever be. She was just. Fuck! I'll sound like such a dick but she was only ever . . . .I wouldn't . . . . now . . . . Fuck!"
Silence.
"Isabella Marie Swan you are the only woman for me."
"But I'm not the only woman you've ever had."
Silence.
I guess it would be only fair of him to mention not being the only man but I love that he hasn't. Yet . . . .
"What is it that bothers you most?" He asks eventually.
Oh shit. Pimple or whitehead? Disingenuous or honest?
"It bothers me. Fuck I can't believe I'm saying this. It bothers me that the things I I-ike about you . . . . that they weren't just for me . . . . shit . . . . that I'm not the only one that knows about them."
Your thighs Edward, your fucking thighs, they should only ever have been mine and I shouldn't have ever had to think about them being anybody else's. And clearly being in a relationship with you is making me irrational, and unstable, and swoony and . . . .
"We're home." He announces.