Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chapter 38 One Giant Step
BPOV
"Jesus." Edward groans, his forehead dropping to mine. "Can't we get a fucking break?"
I haven't the words to express how much I agree with him so we're still forehead to forehead when Moira, William and Demetri crest the top of the stairs.
"Oh-oh." Moira sing songs. "Are we interrupting something?"
"Yes." Edward sighs. "But it would be very rude of me to say so."
"We can go out and come back in again." Moira offers.
"Hell no." William objects. "This grocery bag weighs more than you do and I'm starving, they can finish whatever they're doing when we're done eating."
And so endeth our moment . . . .
…..
Visitors, laughter and food certainly brought the emotional roller coaster of the day safely into the station but I was acutely aware that I hadn't gotten to tell Edward everything I wanted to. And nervous about how I'd get back to that point again.
Nevertheless we had a good night, which poor medicated Edward mostly managed to stay awake for. Moira gave me and impromptu cooking lesson, which was probably a well intentioned waste of her time, and the boys talked animal husbandry. Even Demetri, which was oddly endearing. Though, for the record, I still feel entitled to be a little bit mad at him for outing me.
When I haul myself upstairs after seeing out our guests Edward is already tucked up in bed, all sleepy and open arms inviting.
"Hurry up." He mumbles. "It's cold in here without you."
I don't need to be told, going to bed with Edward should go on my list because his warm body wrapped around mine is like my own personal sleeping draught cum muscle relaxant.
"We're not done with today's conversation." He reminds me through a sleepy yawn.
"I know."
"Okay."
"Okay."
"Night Bella."
"Night Edward."
…..
My cell drags me out of my warm fuzzy sleep.
Beep, beep, fucking beep.
"Make it stop." Edward groans.
"Let me go then, I can't reach."
His arm releases my middle and I scoot across to slap my cell back to silence.
"Come back." He demands, grabbing me and pulling me back into his chest before I can swing myself out of bed.
"I have to get up."
"No."
"No?" It's more of a question than a declaration of independence, since its way warmer here than outside, but his grip tightens anyway.
"Here and now you're mine and nobody else's." He growls, nibbling my neck. "Not sharing before eight am."
"Its seven fifty five."
"Bella." He sighs. "Work with me here."
"Okay."
"Okay."
Silence.
"Have you gone back to sleep?" I ask eventually.
"Rude. No. I'm just breathing you in."
"You've breathed into my free time."
"B-ell-a."
"Okay, okay, sorry. I can spare a bit extra I guess."
"Don't do me any favours . . . . What?"
"Your breath is tickling my neck!" I squeal, curling in on myself.
"You are extremely difficult to romance." He huffs, letting me go and rolling away.
"Sleep humping is not romantic." I point out as I spin over to wrap myself around him.
"Is."
"Isn't."
"Is."
"Argumentative." I remind him.
"So this is what Dad means about never winning an argument with a woman." He drawls snaking an arm across my back to hold me to him.
"He's right." I snicker, kissing his bare chest. "Better give it up."
"Fine." He sighs dramatically. "I'm prepared to give it a go, for you."
Feeling stupidly giddy I give his pectoral muscle another kiss, such lovely, smooth, lightly freckled Edwardy skin . . . .
"I could get used to this." He sighs, hugging me tighter. "Waking up with you is going on my list."
I nod in agreement, too relaxed to bother with words but then the alarm on my cell chimes again reminding me that I have other demands on my time.
"Work?" He queries.
"Work." I confirm as I slap it into permanent submission.
"Do you have to start at 8am?"
"Mmph."
Is now the right time to tell him? Maybe? I suppose? What if he thinks I'm doing this for nefarious purposes? You know, like marriage and baby making purposes? Attempted entrapment? But so what if he does? Better to know how 'ripe' his issues are, right? And it's not like he isn't going to notice that I've quit my job, it'll be headline news on Bloomberg. There are a couple of people I should tell before I do it but there is no one whose opinion matters more than Edward's.
"Hey." He chides me. "Have you gone back to sleep?"
"No. Just thinking."
"Wanna think out loud?"
"Yes."
Silence.
"That's not very loud." He points out after a while.
"I'm going to quit?"
"Quit what? Are you a secret smoker?"
"No. Quit Cask."
"What?"
"You heard me."
He rolls me over so we're facing each other and his green eyes search mine.
"Seriously?"
I nod.
"Why?"
I shrug, which isn't easy when Edward's gripping your shoulders.
"You can do better than that." He says softly. "You're not a quick decision maker as a rule, too stubborn."
"It's not what I wanted to do, you know that."
"I do. But you're very good at it."
"And you were a great quarterback but it wasn't what you wanted to do either." I sigh heavily and he drops a kiss on the tip of my nose. "I've lived a fairy tale in a lot of people's eyes and I can't deny that I've enjoyed some of it. Still do enjoy some of it. And I love Cask, but not enough to keep running it forever, even though it feels disloyal to The Old Man after he placed his trust in me."
Silence.
"I'm not happy with my life in New York." I admit. "And I feel like I need to change it before it's too late."
Silence.
"I don't want to buy an apartment or a house there. I don't want to be driven everywhere like some kind of incapacitated deity. I hate parties and having my photograph taken. I hate all the boardroom politics even if I am the best at it. Financial reports give me a headache and if I have to mentor another senior manager with the emotional intelligence of a two year old I'll probably end up killing them. And I hate that even though I'm perfectly happy laying here with you I still feel like I should be working."
"You want to retire?" Edward asks, his face comically surprised, brows knit together.
"Fuck no." I laugh. "We both know I'd go crazy in a heartbeat. I figured my six month notice would give me a chance to work something out."
"You?" He snorts, eyes twinkling. "CEO of one of the world's biggest companies has no idea? None at all?"
"I might have one, teeny tiny, idea." I confess.
"Mmm-hmm. Might it have anything to do with Harry Clearwater?"
Damn it Edward, it's creepy how well you know me.
"I did always want to work in publishing."
"Yes you did."
Silence.
Green eyes on brown.
"Not much point living in New York if your office is in Indianapolis."
I can't breathe . . . .
"You'd be better off in Louisville." He pauses. "Or here."
Nope. Still can't breathe.
"You've stopped breathing." He points out. "I'm not a human doctor but I'm pretty sure they'd consider that a bad thing."
Real helpful Edward, what about performing the Heimlich manoeuver for whatever's stuck in my airway?
Gah! Air!
"You wouldn't mind? Because, you know, Harry wouldn't really want to move. Not at his age . . . ."
"I'm pretty sure I've indicated that I wouldn't more than once already."
He has. More than once already.
His green eyed gaze is too much for me so I bury myself in his chest, taking the chance to breathe him in.
"Are you sure you don't mind me moving to Kentucky?" I mumble.
"At the risk of exposing just what a selfish asshole I actually am? Yes, I'm sure. It knocks me having to move to New York into a cocked hat, I'd probably end up getting arrested for stalking the NYPDs' horses . . . ."
…..
The rest of the week passes in a mostly Edward centric haze of what I am assuming is happiness.
Am I aware that there is something I still need to tell him? Yes. Am I stressing over it? No. I'll get there.
On Wednesday Demetri and I went into town to deplete the store's ready meal and frozen pizza stock again. I told him I'd decided to quit, he said he wasn't surprised and we left it at that.
On Thursday we took Edward to the hospital for his x-ray, his leg was healing straight and didn't need an intervention. Which was good because I remember getting my arm re-set when I was a kid and ouch. He's now sporting a very fashion forward royal blue cast and looking forward to doing a couple of hours in the small animal surgery next week.
On Friday I helped Moira get her guest rooms ready for the descending Cullens and got another cooking lesson. It turns out learning to bake a cake is something I can get behind.
Cask is continuing to function with only minimal input from me but I haven't quit yet . . . .
…..
Demetri and I went to the airport and I knew I'd been 'ratted out' over the stalkery radicchio when Esme descended on me with a screech, sweeping me into a tight hug. She clung onto me all the way back to the parking lot which made me a little teary.
But once we were safely ensconced in the car she let me have it.
With both motherly barrels.
Much to Rose's amusement.
…..
"Oh my liver." Moira groans, collapsing on the couch between Rose and me. "I don't know how you stand it."
"Everyone who breaks bread with the Cullen family ends up in the spirit, and into the spirits." Rose drawls, indicating the room with a majestic sweep of her non-alcoholic cocktail.
"The trick." I intone. "Is not to try and keep up with them."
"I know that." Moira chuckles. "But perhaps one of us should tell Demetri?"
"Nah." Rose shakes her head. "He can work it out on his own, same way the rest of us did."
"When Edward first started with us Esme and Carlisle came down and took us out to dinner." Moira sighs. "I can just about remember arriving at the restaurant but the rest of it is a complete blur."
"Welcome to Edward's world." I snicker, well into . . . . whatever number rum and coke this is.
Moira and I chink glasses and Rose rolls her eyes at us. Which is funny . . . .
…..
When it's obvious that Edward can barely stay awake the whole party takes it on themselves to see us home. Nevertheless we're alone for most of the walk as there are Moira's chickens and William's cattle for everyone to inspect . . . .
"Do they know they're voices carry more at night"? I ask him as we stroll and hop ahead of them.
"I don't think they care." He laughs.
"Your Mom and Moira are planning our wedding." I remind him.
"They're harmless. I'll worry when they start on baby names."
"Jesus Christ." I groan and he pauses for a moment, releasing a crutch so he can wrap an arm around to squeeze my shoulders.
"Deep breath Bella." He murmurs, planting a kiss on the top of my head.
"Aren't they perfect together?" Moira whisper yells at Esme.
"They always were." Esme responds in kind. "I just hoped and prayed they would realise it one day too."
Edward laughs again as I hustle him back to forward motion, I don't want to hear anymore . . . .