First off, thanks to everyone who's stuck with me through this. I know I'm a tad on the slow side with updates, so, consider this chapter a little 'gift'...because things are going to get a little dark from here on out...dun dun DUNNN... :D

Business as usual: Twilight, it's characters and it's situations belong to Stephenie Meyer, who I really wish would write a saga based on Carlisle's adventures before coming to Forks...so, if you happen to be perusing fan fic, Steph...think about it, ok?

I hope you enjoy this chapter...and if you do...let me know! I love getting feedback from you!

Enjoy....

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Chapter 17: I Just Wanna Have Something to Do

Charlie stood outside her door, hesitating. He wasn't sure if he should knock or not. He sighed, realizing that it didn't really matter. Either way, he was going in. He knocked softly on the door.

"He's not in here, Charlie," she called out before she opened the door. She opened the door and stood in the doorway, one hand on the door knob, the other on her hip. "He had a curfew, remember? The one you made him miss?"

"I…I wasn't looking for Edward," he stammered.

"If you weren't looking for your new boyfriend, then what were you looking for?" She turned away from her father, padding back to her bed, the long hem on the black flannel Hello Kitty pajama pants slipping under her bare feet as she walked, and went back to turning down her bed.

"You," he leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms across his green flannel clad chest. "I just wanted to see~hey…what do you mean my boyfriend?" He scowled at her.

"Oh my God, Charlie! Are you blind," she shook her head and laughed. "Actually, a blind man could even see that you and Edward are in love with each other," she batted her eyelashes at him.

"Hey, we aren't in...we…we just…I dunno….bonded?" Charlie looked down at the floor as he scratched the back of his head. It was true. Somewhere along the way, Edward and Charlie had indeed bonded. There wasn't anything tangible that he could put his finger on that marked the occasion. Rather, it was just there. Poof! There it was. Bond. It could have happened while they watched football in the living room, awaiting Bella's return from her afternoon of girl time with Esme. Or, maybe they bonded over the meat on their pizza. Or, as Charlie suspected, it occurred magically during Harry Potter, the moment Bella's beloved Cedric Diggory appeared on the screen. By the time old dead Ced's pale body popped back to Hogwarts with the sobbing Harry clutching him, it was a done deal. Edward and Charlie were standing in front of the television, holding on to one another, as they pretended to sob over the loss of the most perfect boy wizard to have ever walked the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. Poof. Bond. "So…so we had some fun together," he stammered. "It's no big deal. In fact, you should be happy that your father likes your boyfriend so much, Missy. Most girls your age would kill for that, you know," he shook his finger at her.

"Don't give me that. You're just happy to have another guy in this house so you can actually make fun of me without feeling so guilty," she glared at him. "And I can't believe the absolute pure joy that the two of you had laughing at me." She huffed as she fluffed her pillow.

"Now, Bells, we were just having fun," Charlie tried not to smile, but he couldn't really help it that he did. He really did enjoy watching that movie with Edward.

"What I want to know," she turned to face her father, folding her arms over her chest. "Is, which one of you was making the kissing noises when they were heading to the Winter Ball?"

"That," Charlie smiled, as he walked toward his daughter, "would be your boyfriend." He stood in front of her, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "I have to hand it to you, Bells. That boy has quite a sense of humor when he's not crapping his pants from worrying that I'm going to shoot him."

"I thought you loved making him crap his pants?" She glared in her father's direction.

"Well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't. I mean, that fearful expression on his face is just precious. And hilarious. But I think, given the choice? I'd rather make fun of you with him," the ends of his moustache curled up into a devious smile.

She threw her arms around her father and hugged him tightly, much to his surprise. "Thank you, Charlie."

"For…what?" He returned the hug happily.

"For being there. For understanding. For understanding Edward," she let go of him and sat down on her bed, motioning for Charlie to do the same.

"Well, you have a good head on your shoulders there, Bells. I figured if you felt as strongly about that boy as you do, there had to be something good there." He put his arm around her. "And, now we know there was."

She smiled. "He's all good…except when he's making the kissing sounds at Cedric," she laughed.

"Oh, you gotta give it to the kid, Bells. That was damn funny!" Charlie chuckled softly at the memory.

"Ok, I'll admit it. That was funny," she grudgingly admitted. "But, calling me 'The Widow Diggory'? That so was not."

"The Widow Diggory. That was…inspired," Charlie reveled in the sound as he repeated it again. "The Widow Diggory," he smirked. "I gotta hand it to him. That boy's got a quick mind. Like I said, inspired." He smiled at her. "So, what's on your mind, kiddo?"

"What makes you think I have something on my mind?"

"You wanted me to sit down, remember?"

"Oh…yeah. Well," she swiped a hair that had fallen out of her ponytail aside. "I…I wanted to talk to you about what Edward and I talked about."

Charlie felt her body stiffen. "You don't have to if you don't want to, Bells."

"I wouldn't offer if I didn't want to," she replied. "I…I just thought you would want to know what he said." She looked down at her fingers as she twisted them around themselves.

"I do, Bells. You know that I'm interested in everything about you." Charlie looked down at her. She was so small, and in the baggy Hello Kitty pajama pants she wore, she reminded him of the little waif like creature who he would find curled up on the living room sofa in the mornings after sneaking down to the living room to watch TV and eat chips when she was with him on her summer visits.

"Well, then," she took a deep breath. "I want to tell you."

"I'm listening, Bells."

"Well," she bit her lower lip nervously. "He said I…I was the grand prize, Charlie," she smiled softly. "Not the consolation prize, like I thoght. I was like…like, a Lotto jackpot," her lips gave way to a big, toothy grin as she looked up at her father.

Charlie smiled back at her. "Smart boy."

"And…" she took a deep breath. "And he said he would always choose…me," she smiled as a tear slid down her cheek. "No matter what."

"I'm guessing that's a happy tear," Charlie wrapped his arms around his daughter.

"Oh, Charlie, you have no idea," she giggled as she rested her head against her father's shoulder. "I feel elated and…relieved."

"I'm sure you do, Bells," he pulled her tightly to himself. "I see the way that boy looks at you. I don't think he even notices that there are other girls in the world anymore," Charlie rocked her gently. "He's truly smitten, although he hasn't put you on a pedestal so high that you are beyond teasing."

"You just love that about him don't you?" She pushed out of her father's embrace. "You love it that he teases the crap out of me!"

Charlie held his hands out in front of himself as he shrugged his shoulders "Guilty as charged."

Bella squinted her eyes at him. "You are a harsh man, Charlie Swan. But I love you anyway." She kissed him lightly on his cheek.

"Well, that's a relief," he smiled as he pecked her on the top of her head. He stood up and headed for the door. "Sweet dreams, Bells."

"Hey, Charlie?"

"Yeah?" He turned and looked at her.

"You know how you're always saying there's more to what happened in Phoenix than what I tell you?"

"Yeah?"

"Well…you're right," she looked down at her hands, twisting them together in her lap nervously.

Charlie nodded slightly. "I know I am."

"And, well, you know how you always say I'll talk about it when I'm ready," she bit her bottom lip again.

"Yep."

"Well, I think I'm ready to talk about it," she sighed.

"Well, like I told you, I'm ready to listen." Charlie moved quietly across the room and sat in the rocking chair.

~*~*~*~*~*

The full stock cart shimmied and jerked as he expertly maneuvered it down the narrow aisle, stopping in front of the condiments. Mayonnaise. Mustard. Pickle relish. His least favorite aisle to stock. He much preferred canned vegetables. He wasn't sure why.

Silently, he sliced the brown cardboard boxes open, and began to expertly rotate the stock on the shelf, moving the jars of mayo that were there already to the front of the shelf while backfilling behind it with the new jars, lining them up evenly, labels facing out. He hummed quietly to himself along with the muzak that was playing softly in the background over the Thriftway's speaker system.

"That one's a little crooked," a familiar voice teased.

He turned around, smiling. "Why, thank you, ma'am."

"You're quite welcome, Mr. Ward."

"So, what brings you to the Thriftway. No left over cheese pizza at home?" He leaned against the heavily loaded cart.

"I ate it for breakfast," she confessed with a sheepish look.

"Cold?"

"Nah, heated it up in the toaster oven. Charlie thinks its nuts."

"I eat it cold. I don't like to linger in the kitchen in the mornings," he smirked.

"I like to flaunt my insanity in Charlie's face," she smiled at him. "I call it an Italian Danish."

"A…what?"

"You know, like a cheese Danish? It's bread and cheese. Sometimes there's a fruit in it, like pineapple or cherry."

"I'm familiar with actual Danish, Bella," his green eyes danced with amusement as he took her in. She was back to being Bella again. He had enjoyed the few days after their fight and subsequent makeup when she dressed down, wearing jeans and sneakers, with no makeup at all. She was beautiful, regardless. But this…this was his Bella. The tight black denim mini skirt was worn with thick black stockings that had a hole just above the right knee. The Doc Martens were back as well. Her long hair was blown straight and the orange streaks framed her face. Her makeup was, as always, plentiful and meticulous.

"Then why'd you ask what it was?" She startled him back to reality.

"I meant an 'Italian Danish'," he rolled his eyes. "What the hell is an 'Italian Danish'."

"Oh, well, that's what pizza is. Or at least when you eat it for breakfast," she leaned on her cart. "It's bread with cheese and you do realize tomato is a fruit, right?"

"I'm very well aware of that fact."

"Oh. My. God. Stop rolling your eyes at me, you freak!" She smacked his arm lightly.

Edward giggled before leaning forward to plant a quick kiss on her cheek. "I've missed you this weekend," he sighed.

"Me too."

"Sadly, Thanksgiving is an eating holiday, so we're hellishly busy," he scowled. He'd rather be spending time on the sofa in Charlie Swan's living room, watching bad 80s movies, with or without Charlie. "I'll be working a lot between now and Christmas," he looked down at his feet.

"It's ok, Edward," her voice was soft. "The more you work, the more you make…the better gift I get for Christmas," she let out a wicked whoop of a laugh.

"Ha ha. Won't be so funny when I'm working so much I don't have time to go shop for you," he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Then I will happily accept your I.O.U, with interest, of course," she smirked as he rolled his eyes. "And stop rolling your eyes at me! I swear, , those eyes are going to just roll out your head if you keep that up!"

He laughed softly at her mock anger. "So," he went back to the box containing jars of pickle relish he had just slashed open. "What really brings you here?"

"I'm looking for stuff for Thanksgiving."

"Thanksgiving?" He lined up the labels on each jar he placed on the shelf so that each one faced out, jars standing in a uniform fashion like soldiers standing at attention.

"Yeah, Thanksgiving. You know, fourth Thursday of November? The day we celebrate the Pilgrims and the Indians making a big, peaceful feast? Turkey day? Gobble gobble? Macy's Day Parade? And, if you're Charlie, Football day."

"Um, guess what? I know what Thanksgiving is too," he turned and gave her a big, cheesy grin, his sparkling green eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Then why did you ask," she huffed, feigning irritation.

"Why are you so literal?"

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. "Seriously, Edward."

"But I thought that you and Charlie coming over for Thanksgiving?" He broke down the now empty relish box and tossed it on top of the other now flat boxes on the floor. "Has something changed?"

"We are coming over. Nothing's changed." As if she'd ever pass on the chance to spend time with him. "But we can't expect your mom to cook everything."

"My mom loves to cook. Besides, Dad and Alice help her." He flicked his wrist quickly and another box flopped open.

"But we can't come empty handed," she protested. "And, since Thanksgiving is Thursday, I have to figure it out, like, now."

"You don't have to bring anything but yourselves, Bella," he smiled.

She shook her head. "No, we really do. We can't walk in with nothing like we were raised in a barn or something."

He snickered. "Ok, then why don't you bring a vegetable & dip platter? We have them already made up over in produce. I'll pick one up Wednesday and bring it home for you, ok?"

"No, Edward. It wouldn't be the same," she shook her head.

"Then, what do you want to do?" He ran his hand through his hair as he took a deep breath. Once she set her mind to something, he knew he'd be hard pressed to change it.

"I want to make some stuff. I want to…to help," she pleaded with her eyes.

He looked at her earnest face softly. "Ok," he sighed. "How about you bring something for desert? Pick up a pie over at the bakery department?"

"I can actually make an apple pie. I have an awesome recipe," she beamed.

"That's perfect," his crooked smile made her sigh to herself. So beautiful, and he was all hers.

"And I was going to make these artichoke heart things I saw on Food Network," she furrowed her brow as she thought. "I printed some recipes out and brought them with me." She opened up the ever present black messenger bag and foraged around inside for a moment before pulling out a clump of tattered sheets of paper. "I think it was that Barefoot Contessa who made them. Or maybe Giada?" She shuffled through the papers thoughtfully. "I have to get breadcrumbs."

"Bella, don't go overboard," he laughed.

"I'm not. I just want to help."

"Ok, but, really, that's enough."

"And stuffing. What kind of stuffing does your mom make?" She studied his face. He hadn't shaved for a couple of days, and the russet scruff that adorned his strong jaw was sexy as hell. It made her want to run her tongue along the sharp angles there, making him groan.

"Um, I think it's…it has…it's…there's some…uh…," he stammered.

"Is it cornbread stuffing?"

"I know there's bread of some sort in it," he offered lamely.

"Sausage?"

"Uhh…"

"Do you eat it?"

"Yeah, I do."

"But…you don't know what's in it?" She gave him a sharp look.

"Bella, I don't care what's in it. It's good and I eat it," he shrugged.

"Maybe I'll make some plain bread stuffing. Do you like cornbread?"

"Bella, how long have you known me," he shook his head.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot…you eat anything," she grinned at him adoringly.

"You want me to ask my mom what kind of stuffing she makes," he offered.

"Would you," she looked at him sadly. Of course he would. She looked like a sad little kitten. How could he refuse?

"Sure. I can call her right now." He looked around quickly to ensure the coast was clear as he pulled out his cell phone and hit a number. "Hi Mom, it's me….yeah…no, everything's ok. Look, Bella's here. She wants to make some stuffing for Thanksgiving and…yeah, I told her…No, she's insisting. I know…I know…she insists…no, she didn't like that idea…she wanted to make some stuffing…corn bread? Ok, so, regular bread stuffing? Uh huh…Ok, thanks Mom. I love you." He flipped the phone shut as Bella stared at him.

He smiled at her. "She said the only thing you have to bring to dinner is Charlie, but since you insist, she's making cornbread stuffing. So, you can make regular bread stuffing if you want."

"Thanks, Edward," she grinned at him. "Well, I have some shopping to do, so I better get moving."

"Yeah, I need to get back to work before Jenks starts riding me," he laughed.

She moved closer to him, bringing her lips so close to his ear that her hot breath made him shiver as she whispered seductively, "Hey, I thought I was the only one who was going to ride you."

He felt the color rising in his face, and felt what her tone was doing to his body. He pulled away slightly, sucking in air. "Bella…I'm at work!"

She threw her head back as her deep, throaty laugh escaped. "Oh, Edward, ya gotta lighten up! Just wait till I tell Charlie! He's going to pee!"

"Bella! You can't tell Charlie!" Panic took over his face.

"Oh please," she waved a hand at him and leaned up to place a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. "Charlie will laugh more than I did, and I was here."

"You really want him to kill me, don't you?"

"Sure, but not until after we're married. I'd rather be 'The Widow Cullen' than 'The Widow Diggory'. Flows better." She pushed her cart past him, and waved a hand behind her as she walked slowly down the aisle, wiggling her butt from side to side for show.

~*~*~*~*~*

"I thought we were going to the Cullen's for dinner?" Charlie pulled out his usual chair at the kitchen table and flopped down into it, dropping the newspaper he was holding on to the table in front of him.

"We are, but I have to bring something. We can't just walk in there like a couple of empty handed mooks," she looked up from the apples she was slicing.

Charlie gave her a look. "I wasn't aware that we had that many pots," he nodded toward the pile of pots and pans sitting in the sink, waiting to be washed. "So, what are you making there?" He took a deep breath. "It smells fantastic, whatever it is."

"Well, so far, I've made some regular bread stuffing with celery and onions. Then I made these artichoke hearts with seasoned breadcrumbs." She slid the apples she had been slicing off the board and into a large metal bowl.

"So, veggie stuff?" Charlie flipped open the paper to the sports section.

"Well, yeah. I need to eat something too," she giggled, peeling a Granny Smith apple. "I also made these asparagus patties. So easy! I'm going to make them for us for dinner next week."

"Asparagus?" he scowled at her.

"You won't even know you're eating them. You put them through the food processor, then blend them with eggs and fry them." She struggled to core the apple. She'd been cooking most of the afternoon and this was the last thing she had to do. She would put the pie together, and bring it over to the Cullen's and bake it there tonight, since their oven was much more reliable than any appliance in the Swan kitchen. And, of course, the prospect of stealing some extra time with Edward while she was there was always appealing.

"Well, as long as it's fried, it has to be good," he grinned at her before turning his attentions back to his newspaper.

"I just love ," she smiled. "I hadn't realized how many really good meatless recipes they have on there."

"I'm happy for you," he snorted.

"Laugh if you must, but you don't even realize how many meatless meals you've eaten since I've been here," she dropped a carefully measured tablespoon of cinnamon into the bowl of apples.

"Well, Bells," Charlie stretched. "I guess I'm having the last laugh...because every day, at lunch, I eat meat!" His dark moustache curled up into an evil grin.

She shook her head. "I should have known. You and your boyfriend, Edward."

"Hey now, my boyfriend and I have a mutual respect for all meat," Charlie teased. "Did you make that pie crust yourself?" He watched as Bella spooned a giant gooey mound of apples mixed with cinnamon and sugar into a pie crust.

"No, it's frozen. Edward ran it by after school. The one I tried to make failed miserably."

"So…is this a secret?"

"Yes it is," she giggled. "Along with the fact that there are two kinds of apples in this pie."

"Two? Is that rare or special or something?"

"I'm not sure, but I used Granny Smith and Macintosh. You know," she rolled out the top crust for the pie as she spoke. "Sweet and tart." She took a paring knife and slowly cut the rolled out crust into strips, then began painstakingly weaving the strips on top of the apple mound in the shell until she began forming an intricate basket weave.

"I bet no one's ever had a pie this good," Charlie smiled as his mouth watered, the smell of her cooking hanging heavily in the kitchen.

"I wouldn't bet on it. Edward says that Esme is quite the cook." She cracked an egg into a small bowl and added a splash of water before beating it with a fork.

"Making breakfast too," Charlie teased.

"No, this is an egg wash," she took a new pastry brush that sat on the counter and dipped it into the scrambled egg, painting it along the woven crust. "It's supposed to make the crust all shiny and brown."

"Let me guess…Food Network?"

"Dot com," she finished for him.

"That's pretty awesome, Bells," he folded up his newspaper.

"I'm going to run this over to the Cullen's tonight and bake it there. Do you mind?"

Charlie looked up at her and grinned. Her hair was pulled back into a pony tail. While she still wore her full Bella makeup, she was wearing a pair of black leggings flecked with flour and a much too big tshirt who's faded lettering read FORKS POLICE DEPARTMENT under a smear of…something. He wasn't quite sure what it was she'd spilled on herself. Furry leopard print slippers adorned her feet, completing her outfit. Was it any wonder Edward loved her so?

"Do Esme and Carlisle know your plan?"

"Yeah, Edward ran it by them last night," she wrapped the uncooked pie tightly in tin foil.

"Well, ok then. Just don't stay out too late."

She shuffled over to the table and put the silver covered pie down, leaning over to kiss Charlie on the cheek. "Thanks. I'm just going to run up and throw on some clean sweats and sneakers. Be right down."

~*~*~*~*~*

"Oh, Bella, that looks beautiful," Esme gushed as Bella unwrapped her creation.

"If it tastes half as good as it looks, it will be an awesome pie," Carlisle salivated.

"Well, if it doesn't taste good, blame Food Network," she teased as she slid the pie into Esme's new stainless steel wall oven. Everything about the Cullen's house was sleek, new and pristine. It was almost as if no one lived there at all. She set the timer for forty-five minutes.

"So, what can I do?" She looked around at Esme and Carlisle, both relaxed, sitting at the granite breakfast bar. Carlisle, with narrow reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose, was looking at the newspaper, much like Charlie had been earlier, except that Carlisle was reading the news instead of the sports. Esme had poured herself and Carlisle steaming cups of coffee and sat there, enjoying a sip as she looked at Bella quizzically.

"Do?"

"Yeah, I want to help for tomorrow."

"Oh, that's so sweet, Bella," she smiled. "But, everything that can be done tonight is already done, dear," Esme took another sip. "Why don't the two of you go up to Edward's room? I don't think he's ever shown you his room, has he?"

Edward had been unloading the dishwasher, and looked up, feeling slightly panicked. "I…um…why don't we go hang out in Alice's room?"

"Because Alice went to bed about an hour ago," Carlisle didn't look up from his paper as he spoke. "She had an intensive physical therapy session today, because of the long weekend, and she was just exhausted."

"Oh…uh…," he looked at Bella, swallowing hard. "Sure, we can go up to my room. It's kind of messy, but as long as you don't mind a mess…"

"Edward, you've seen my bedroom," she rolled her eyes. It was true. He'd been in her bedroom. He'd seen the piles of books on the floor, the laundry piled in the corner waiting to be washed, the light layer of dust that seemed to cling to everything, no matter how often she dusted. Worse than anything, though, he'd seen her bras hanging on the closet door knob. Her stretched out, faded and hole filled bras. She shuddered at the memory and made a mental note to order some new undergarments.

He put the last bowl in the cabinet, and closed the dishwasher. "We can listen to some music," he mused as he looked at the timer on the oven. "Pie won't be done for almost an hour. I want to introduce you to George Gershwin," he nodded his head in the direction of the stairs.

"Who's George Gershwin," she asked as she followed him up to the third floor.

"He's an early twentieth century American composer."

"Oh. I thought he was some friend of yours from online."

"Bella…" he stopped on the third floor landing, shaking his head.

"What?" She furrowed her brow.

"Nothing. There's just, well, there's so much I want to show you," he sighed, reaching up and gently pulling the scrunchie that held her hair back from her face. "Music is very important to me. I listen to all kinds of music."

"I know," she smiled at him, orange tinged hair cascading across her face in a wave. "I hear it all in the car, remember?"

"Yeah, but you've never heard the Rhapsody In Blue, have you?"

"I…who sings it?"

"Come on," smiling, he took her hand, leading her toward his bedroom. "I'll play it for you."

He closed the door behind them and flicked a switch, turning on a small lamp on the dresser, and led her to his big, overstuffed reading chair in the corner, motioning for her to sit down.

"This is my reading corner," he seemed almost shy to admit it.

She sat at the edge of the huge chair, looking around the dimly lit room, wondering where the mess he had mentioned was. Not a thing in the tastefully decorated room seemed to be out of place, not even on the wall across from the large windows, where Edward now stood, selecting a cd from the ceiling to floor shelves that were crammed full of books and cd's. In the middle of the shelving unit, sat a very high tech looking music system. Edward pushed a button and dropped the cd into an open slot. Within seconds, the room filled with the sound of a solo clarinet glissando that was soon joined by a jazz piano. Edward stood at the cd player, smiling at her. She'd never heard anything like quite like this. It was intricate and lively.

"What does it sound like?" He sat down on the edge of his bed, watching her intently as she listened.

"It sounds like…it sounds busy…like a big city!" Instruments began clashing together at a frenetic pace.

"The idea for the piece came to Gershwin during a train ride to Boston. It debuted in 1924, but it's really timeless," his eyes flashed in the dim light. "It's generally accepted that Rhapsody in Blue is about New York City," he continued, "but, it can really be thought of as representative of any big city. For me, it's Chicago," he smiled his crooked smile at her.

She stood up from the chair and moved over to sit next to him on the edge of his bed. "It's beautiful, Edward," she shimmied up against him. "I mean, you can really feel the city. The pace, the sweetness, the harshness…it's…wow…" She leaned her head on his shoulder and he slid his arm around her, holding her tightly.

"Gershwin wrote some of the most amazing music of the early twentieth century," his voice was low.

"I take it he's a favorite of yours," she smiled against him. She didn't care what he talked about, as long as he held her like this.

"He is," he sighed. "His music is just inspired. I bet you've heard a lot of it and you don't even know it."

"It's possible. You'll have to play more of it for me some time," she looked up at him and ran her fingertips across his stubbled jaw.

"There's some other songs on this cd," his voice was husky as he looked down at her, licking his lips.

"Edward?"

"Yes?"

"Kiss me?"

His lips were on hers with urgency, molding them to his. He sucked her lower lip in between his, finding her lip ring, and flicking his tongue against it. She groaned as he gently took the tiny silver ring between his teeth and tugged on it gently.

Sighing, they fell backward onto the bed, wrapping themselves around one another as they became lost in the sensations of each other's mouths. Her lips had parted for him as his hands slid up inside the back of her loose sweatshirt, feeling the warmth of her smooth skin. Her small hands fisted into his hair, tugging gently at the back of his neck as tongues twisted together. Edward groaned, rolling over onto his back and taking her with him, shuddering at the sensation of her breasts rubbing against his chest, her hard nipples poking against him as Gershwin swirled around them.

He nibbled on her bottom lip, once more tugging on the small ring there as the frenzied strains of the Rhapsody in Blue played on, forgotten by the lovers in the throes of their passion. She straddled him, grinding her hips into his obvious arousal, moaning her pleasure as her hands traveled up under his shirt pushing the white tshirt up, long nails gently scratching a path through his soft tummy hair up into the wisps of hair on his chest. His hands slid down her sides and grabbed onto her hips, fingers digging into them.

"Bella," he groaned, pulling his lips away from hers and trying to catch his breath. "Please…"

"Edward," she sighed, leaning down and running her tongue along his jaw, the stubble tickling as she went. "I want you." She sucked on the soft, sensitive skin under his chin and his hips bucked against her. They groaned their pleasure together.

She slid her body down his, kissing, licking, nibbling, caressing his exposed skin as she went, until she was kneeling between his legs.

"Please," he moaned, breathing hard as he glanced toward the door. "Someone might come in." His fingers fluttered lightly up her body and filtered through her soft hair.

"No one's coming, Edward," her voice was soft as she ran her fingers lightly over his button fly. "Things are different now. I'm different. I'm not her. Edward, I love you. Let me do this for you. Please?"

He lifted his head, looking down at her pleading chocolate eyes with his own, dark, hooded ones. Yes, he wanted this, wanted her. Of that he was certain. It was time to stop over thinking things, he knew. Stop worrying about the past and embrace his future. Bella was his future. Swallowing hard, he ran his fingers down her cheek softly, nodding.

Her small fingers deftly popped the buttons on his jeans one by one, and he lifted his hips, helping her as she pulled his jeans and boxer briefs down, freeing him.

"Oh, Edward," she sighed as she ran her hand up and down his length. His hips bucked again and he let out a soft moan. They had both waited for this for what seemed like forever.

Her lips were on him.

He groaned softly, twisting his fingers through her hair as she moved, her tongue caressing and loving him.

His breathing quickened and he began to moan her name as her lips moved around him.

"Please," he begged. "I'm going…aahhh…Bella…" he sucked in a breath and hissed. It hadn't taken very long. "I'm going to come!" His grip on her hair tightened as she increased her rhythm, moving her mouth around him faster.

"Please," his breath was ragged. "I don't want to…aaahhh…I don't want to come in your mouth…Bella…" he began to moan incoherently as her long fingernails caressed the soft skin on his stomach. "Please…" Her tongue swirled over him.

"Bella…" he moaned as his climax took him, his fingers tightening in her hair as his muscles tensed and he shuddered. The room seemed to twist and spin around him, and light became dark, only to illuminate with a brightness much more intense than ever before. "I love you so much," he panted as he tried to catch his breath, coming down from the strong orgasm. He grabbed her arms, pulling her up and laying her down on top of his chest again, wrapping his arms around her lovingly.

"I love you too, Edward," she smiled at him, her eyes soft with love. His fingers traced the line of her jaw as he kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth.

"Ah," he sucked in a breath. "I can taste myself on you." He slid his tongue back into her mouth, twisting it around with hers.

"Did I please you," she pulled out of the kiss and ran her fingers through his hair, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"Bella, you don't have to do…things to please me. Just being with you pleases me," he sighed, resting his damp forehead against hers. "But…yeah…that was amazing."

"And we all survived," she giggled, running her fingers down his chest gently.

"And we all survived," he smiled, closing his eyes. The music had changed and a soft, ethereal piano version of Summertime filled the room as they lay together, listening to the sweet notes float around them.

"I think I need to go check on my pie," she finally pulled away sitting up on her elbows. "You might want to pull your pants up, you know," she giggled skittering to the edge of the bed as she watched him hop up, quickly adjusting his pants and buttoning them, smirking at her as he did.

He leaned down, putting one hand on either side of her, and kissed her tenderly. "Thank you," he breathed. "I love you…and…I owe you," his emerald eyes flashed mischievously at her.

"You're welcome," he took her hand and pulled her off the bed. "And, I'm going to hold you to it. You definitely do owe me." She slid her hands up his chest and wrapped them around his neck, feeling his hands slide around her waist as he pulled her close. They kissed softly. "I love you."

"I love you too," he sighed. "But I think I might love that pie more."

"So I'm going to lose you to a pie?"

"It's a definite possibility," his eyes danced as he looked at her. He couldn't remember ever feeling this way before. Not even with Victoria.

"Well, can a pie do this?" She wiggled her hips against him suggestively.

"No, but the pie can fill my growling tummy," he laughed. "Unless you burn it, of course."

"Honey, if that pie is burned, it was all for a good cause," she slid her fingers up into the hair on the back of his neck and pulled his head down, kissing him hard and long.

"We need to go check on the pie," his voice was thick with lust and she knew she wouldn't be waiting much longer.

~*~*~*~*~*

Yeah...I know...finally, right? :P

I might be wrong...but something tells me their happiness won't be long lived...

Now, I'm not much of a chef, and it's been a few years since I last baked an apple pie, but that is how I make mine (Smith and Mac...awesome combo!)...but the timing on the baking might be a bit off. I even consulted as I so often do (so you see where Bella gets it from) and I came up with various timings on pie baking. So, I took an average. Be advised that pie cooking time is subject to how your oven cooks...mine's really slow LOL

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you did~or even if you didn't~please hit the little review button there and let me know. The only way I can tell how you feel about the story is if you let me know :D

Once more, thank you so much for all of your continued support!