A/N For those of you who are not aware, I post teasers on both FB and Twilighted, but I'm currently more active on FB. You can find the links on my profile page.

Here goes…

Chapter 13

Edward Pov

~ December 24th, 2011 ~

~~ 0 ~~

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~~ 0 ~~

I woke up the next morning with my face firmly pressed into my soft pillow. There was light penetrating through the crack where the heavy curtains met, and I turned my head in the other direction to avoid it. My eyes fell on Isabella's brown hair and a smile tugged at my lips. I was lying on my stomach with my hands under the pillow while she was on her side facing away from me. The sound of her steady breathing filled the silence, and I took a moment to just listen to it.

The notion that I had shared the bed with a woman, other than Tanya, was starting to really sink in. I had asked Isabella to spend the night, and even though she was reluctant to accept, in the end she did. As I lay there, analyzing how I felt about it, I realized that beside the satisfaction of having her so close and intimate, there was also a sense of guilt overshadowing the initial contentment. Surprisingly, this guilt had nothing to do with Tanya and any feelings that I might have left for her. No. It had to do with the fact that I had specifically told Isabella I wasn't ready for more, and yet I had manipulated her into staying anyway. Yes. By pleading and insisting that I didn't want to be alone, I had enforced my will on her, and that in anyone's terms is called manipulation. I didn't think it was intentional. Not really. But with the holidays so close and the condo so quiet and deserted, I needed the company. I had never been alone for Christmas and I didn't plan on starting now.

Not only did I enjoy having Isabella around, but the feelings I was starting to develop for her made me want to be with her day and night. And even though I desired her sexually, I had been a complete gentleman, letting her chose if she wanted to sleep in one of the guest rooms or in my bedroom. After briefly debating the matter, she had chosen my bedroom. I had offered her clothes to change into, and we had both slid under the covers, staying up chatting until late into the night.

Now… keeping my hands to myself hadn't been easy. She was soft and warm and feminine, and I was sexually deprived and sporting a painful erection. She had fallen asleep with her head on my chest and half of her body resting on mine, making it very hard to ignore the way her breasts pressed against my side. At some point, I had even considered getting out of bed and crashing on the couch instead, cursing the moment such a bad idea arose in my head. But I didn't want to leave her. The deed was done, and I had to grit my teeth and bear the consequences. So, doing a Herculean effort, I forced my eyes closed and willed myself to sleep.

I could have had her. The temptation was so big, I could have simply acted on impulse, letting my urges get the best of me. The only thing stopping me was the blind faith she was showing me by accepting to share a bed with a man who wasn't yet ready for a commitment. She trusted me not to take advantage of her, and I respected that.

During my struggle with the insomnia caused by Isabella's nearness, I had time to ponder the reason why I was still so reluctant to commit to her. And there was a simple, common-sense explanation for that. In order to give myself to Isabella completely, I had to leave Tanya behind. For that to happen, I felt like I needed to wait until her death's one year anniversary passed. Irina's visit the other night had been a complete surprise, but not an unpleasant one. She and I had always got along extremely well. Her idea of having a memorial for her sister was not only welcome, but also needed. Although I hadn't been in love with Tanya for quite some time, I still loved her, and I strongly believed she deserved at least one year of mourning on my part. The passing of that year marked not only the ability of finally letting go and coping with the fact that she was gone forever, but also the critical point of leaving the past behind and orienting towards the future.

And it was strange how I was trying to somehow keep Isabella at arm's length but at the same time I couldn't wait to take things further. I wanted to honor Tanya, and every time I kissed Isabella or touched her like only a lover would, I was doing anything but that. In all honesty, I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I wanted us to take things slow, yet I was eager to speed up. I was eager for more. So much more. In fact, sometimes my eagerness went as far as thinking that maybe someday Isabella was going to be the most important person in my life, just like Tanya had been for so long. I even dared to hope that my biggest dream of having a family of my own wasn't going to remain something I fantasized about forever.

Isabella started to stir next to me, and I turned on my right side, inching closer to her.

"Morning," I breathed in her ear, wrapping an arm around her waist.

She sighed, turning onto her back and smiling up at me sleepily. "Morning."

With my hand now on her stomach, I leaned down to give her a soft kiss. She grimaced, turning her head to the side and causing my lips to land on her cheek instead.

"Morning breath," she protested, and I frowned.

"Yours or mine?"

She chuckled. "Mine."

"I don't mind," I said, trying again.

"I do," she replied with another chuckle, pushing me away.

Directing my lips downwards, I began placing small kisses on her neck.

"Mmm…" she moaned quietly, craning her neck to give me better access. Her skin was warm and slightly damp with sweat.

"You need a shower," I observed, pulling the comforter down to her waist.

"What?" She looked at me horrified.

"And so do I," I assured her with a laugh. "This thing is like a bear skin." I had half a mind to kick the heavy comforter until it was off of us, but not wanting to reveal my morning erection, I abandoned the idea. "Do you want to go first or should I? Since no one uses the other bathroom there isn't even soap in there, so we'll have to take turns."

"You go," she murmured, letting out a lazy yawn. "I'll doze off for a few more minutes."

"None of that nonsense," I scolded, pushing a few strands of hair from her face and tucking them behind her ear. "We need coffee. You can make it while I take my shower and then I'll make breakfast while you take yours."

"You are going to make us breakfast?" she asked amusedly.

"Yes. I know how to boil eggs. Not to mention that I'm extremely skilled at pouring milk and cereal into a bowl," I said playfully.

She sighed heavily, turning onto her stomach and closing her eyes as she hugged her pillow.

"I'm craving French toast."

I sat up and stretched my arms over my head. "Unless you want me to burn down the building, you'll have to settle for cereal."

"Just… go take your shower." She waved me off dismissively, her eyes still closed.

"Not until you get out of the bed," I said, leaning over to tug at the large t-shirt she had on. I repeated the motion until she groaned in irritation and swatted my hand away.

"You are so mean," she whined, giving me a one-eyed glare. "Did you forget I'm not a morning person? At all."

I smirked. "Did you forget that I am?"

"Ugh."

With a huff, she sat up on the edge of the bed, fumbling on the nightstand for her phone. She checked the time, frowned, then rose to her feet, starting to drag herself out of the room.

I watched appreciatively as her slim form departed. Even though my short sweatpants were pretty large on her, they reached just below her knees, exposing her smooth, creamy ankles. The contentment I felt at seeing her wear my clothes brought back memories from a time when Tanya used to do the same thing. And although we hadn't put a label on what we had, deep inside I knew that contentment was mostly due to a sense of possessiveness that I wasn't even entitled to have. And yet… I couldn't help but feel that way.

Reluctantly, I made my way to the bathroom. As I stood under the shower spray, I contemplated whether to take care of my persistent erection or not.

Not only was I not the kind of man who found the process of jacking off that appealing, but the knowledge that Isabella was about eighty feet away, made me self-conscious. However, given the fact that she was supposed to spend another night in my bed, I was somehow forced to do it. Placing my palm against the shower stall, I closed my eyes and reached down to grab myself.

It was the first time in months that I had masturbated.

Stepping into the kitchen twenty minutes later, there was a bit of guilt hovering over me, knowing that I had used Isabella's body as visual stimulation to reach my release. But leaving the guilt aside, I had to admit I felt much better. I was more relaxed, and it was now safe for me to touch her without having to pitch a tent every time I did so.

Isabella stood in front of the stove, flipping a pancake. The TV was on while a strong smell of coffee lingered in the air. She didn't hear me come in, so I walked over to her, leaning down to kiss the nape of her bare neck.

"It smells delicious in here," I said, lifting her half-full mug from the counter and taking a sip.

She smiled over her shoulder briefly then went back to her task.

I poured myself some coffee while she finished making the pancakes.

"Sit," she ordered, nodding her head towards the table.

I did as she said, my stomach grumbling savagely at the delicious smell coming from the plate she set in front of me.

"Thank you," I said gratefully, grabbing the maple syrup.

She glanced at me over the rim of her mug, her brown eyes twinkling with merriment. "You're welcome."

I ate with gusto while Isabella took small bites, focusing her attention on the TV where a movie was playing. When we were done, she washed the dishes while I took a business call. She finished cleaning everything up just as I was hanging up. I motioned for her to come and sit in my lap.

"Do you have plans for today?" I asked.

She shrugged. "No. Why?"

"I was thinking you could help me pick out a few presents. I have no idea what to buy when it comes to the women in the family. Usually, Tanya was in charge with Christmas shopping. "

"Okay," she said, uneager.

I couldn't blame her. If they weren't my family, I probably wouldn't have wanted to get them presents either.

"And since you already agreed to spend Christmas with me, how about I take you home so you can pack an overnight bag?" I coaxed. "I also need help decorating the Christmas tree."

"Did you even buy one?"

"Of course I did. It should be delivered this afternoon."

"Okay. But wait." She suddenly frowned. "How am I supposed to buy you a present if I'm spending the entire day with you?"

I smiled indulgently. I didn't give a damn if she bought me something or not. All that mattered to me was having her close.

"You company is enough of a gift to me," I replied sincerely.

"Seriously, Edward," she said, repositioning herself in my lap so that her body was more angled towards mine. "I know I should have thought of it sooner. Usually, I never leave my Christmas shopping to the last minute, but this year I've been working late and I had more classes, and then there was spending time with you, and …"

"I really don't mind," I cut off her babbling. "As you can see, I do leave my Christmas shopping to the last moment. I hate shopping of any kind. I never know what to get."

"So, what, when it was Tanya's birthday, did you hire someone to get your wife a present?" she joked.

I chuckled. "No. I always got her jewelry. So don't expect anything too creative. I'm getting you the same thing."

"Nuh-uh." She shook her head adamantly. "If I can't buy you a gift, neither can you."

I scowled, not liking the fact that she was conditioning me. If we were to have a future together, she had to get used to the fact that I enjoyed spoiling the woman I cared for. Although I wasn't a fan of the actual shopping process, I did like offering small attentions from time to time. I was a very impulsive person in both business and love, and when I felt like showing my appreciation, I did so without thinking twice about it.

"I'm not sure I like that idea very much, Isabella."

"Edward," she said sternly.

I sighed, a bit annoyed. "Can't you just get me something afterwards? I already bought it."

"What? When?"

"A few days ago. It's just a pair of earrings," I said, making an evasive gesture.

"Edward…"

"If it makes you feel better, I won't get you anything for your birthday," I tried to compromise.

Although Isabella didn't seem convinced, she eventually let it go, but didn't look too happy about it. We finished taking our daily caffeine doses with her still perched up on my lap while continuing to watch TV. At some point, I noticed she had stopped watching the movie and was staring at me with a pensive look on her face.

I looked back at her questioningly.

"Isn't your mother going to be mad that you're not spending Christmas Eve with them?" she voiced her worry, biting down on her lower lip nervously.

I nodded in agreement. "She's going to be furious. But after the stunt she pulled on Wednesday, she deserves it."

"Do you think Lauren is going to be there?"

"I'm certain," I replied openly, glad that the other night she had somehow forced me to tell her the truth about Lauren. I found no joy in keeping such things from her. "That's one more reason not to go."

~~ 0 ~~

While Isabella took her shower, I washed our mugs and cleaned the coffee maker which happened to be the only kitchen appliance I actually knew how to use. When I was done, I headed over to the bedroom to change into a pair of jeans and a white v-neck sweater. Just as I was putting on socks, Isabella emerged from the bathroom, already dressed in her clothes from the other day.

"Do you happen to have a spare toothbrush?" she asked, running my comb through her still dry, long hair.

"I have no idea. Have you checked the cabinets?"

"Yeah."

"Use mine," I offered.

She smirked teasingly. "Are you sure you want my germs?"

"Germs don't scare me," I retorted in kind, making sure to lower my voice seductively. "Especially if they're yours."

She laughed heartily, rolling her eyes at me. "You're such a sweet talker."

Spinning on her heels, she made her way back into the bathroom, leaving me alone once again. Somewhere in the distance my phone started ringing, and I got up, heading towards the source of the noise.

I found it lying on the kitchen table. Picking it up, I saw my mother's name flashing on the display and groaned sufferingly. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for an unpleasant conversation.

"Yes, Mother?" I answered, keeping my tone flat.

"Edward, darling," she purred contently. "I just wanted to let you know that dinner is at eight as usual. We'll be exchanging gifts at midnight."

"I'm not coming," I said.

There was a pregnant pause before she spoke again. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not coming," I repeated more firmly, steeling myself for what I knew was about to come.

"What do you mean, you're not coming?" she demanded, her voice suddenly sharp and devoid of any trace of amiability.

"I have other plans tonight, but I'll make sure to stop by tomorrow for lunch," I replied, doing my best to sound reasonable.

However, my mother knew of no such notion as reasonableness. Things had to be done her way. "Other plans? Edward Anthony, what in the world are you talking about? What can be more important than spending the holidays with your family?"

It was my turn to be silent. She was giving me no other choice but to be sincere.

"I've met someone."

"Someone…" she uttered, sounding surprised, "…as in a woman?"

"Yes."

"Who is she?" she inquired, sounding more curious than upset. "Do I know her?"

I almost wanted to laugh in response to her question. I knew my mother well. I was willing to bet she was already picturing Isabella to be one of those pretentious, spoiled women frequenting her social circle.

"No, you don't."

For a few seconds she seemed to be mulling over what would be the best approach. She clearly wasn't pleased that I had kept the fact that I was dating from her, but she wasn't against me going on with my life either. In fact, judging by her insistences that I should give Lauren a chance, she wanted me to settle down again as soon as possible.

"Well, then bring her along. I'd like to meet her. Although I'm not sure Elsa and Rick are going to be very happy to see you have moved on. Not that there is anything wrong with moving on, but they're still mourning their daughter. Oh, Lauren is going to be so disappointed. She really hoped to get to know you better," she lamented with a hint of regret, pausing for effect. When I didn't reply, she went on, sounding a bit more excited. "But tell me. Who is she? When did you meet?"

I sighed heavily, wishing she would stop with the interrogatory. "Her name is Isabella. I met her three months ago."

"What a lovely name," Mom gushed. "Is she from Chicago?"

"No, she's from Washington," I said vaguely.

"Oh, so she's from the capital."

"No."

"No?" she said, and I could imagine her eyebrows knitting together. "Oh, you mean the state? Well, Seattle is nice. Eleanor White is originally from Seattle," she perked up almost instantly at the mention of her obnoxiously rich acquaintance. "You do remember Eleanor, don't you?"

"I do," I muttered gruffly. "Isabella's not from Seattle."

"I'm confused."

"She's from Forks."

"Forks?" she rolled the word on her tongue like it belonged to a foreign language. "What in God's name is Forks? It sounds so… rural."

In that moment, I knew it was time for me to end the conversation. "Look, Mom, I'm sorry I won't be there tonight. I promise I'll come by tomorrow."

"Edward, wait," she said, now alarmed. "Who is this woman? Who did you get involved with?"

"I'm going to hang up now. See you tomorrow."

"Edwa…"

As I was shoving the phone into my front pocket, Isabella made an appearance. She had her hair pulled up in a ponytail and was wearing mascara and a thin layer of lip gloss.

I extended my hand to her. "Are you ready to go?"

She took it with a smile. "Yeah."

~~ 0 ~~

We barely made it through the front door to the apartment Isabella shared with Angela when the sound of running feet let us know we were not alone. Angela rushed down the hallway wearing a thick bathrobe and large curlers in her dark hair.

"Oh good, you're home," she breathed, acknowledging my presence distractedly. "Hey, Edward."

"Hi," I said amused, taking off my coat.

"Please don't hate me," she begged, her attention focused on her roommate.

Isabella froze with her hand on her boot's zipper. "What did you do?"

"I…" she trailed off undecidedly. "I invited Ben over for dinner tonight."

Isabella frowned, going back to removing her footwear. "So?"

"You don't mind?" Angela asked hopefully.

"Actually…" Isabella said softly, throwing me a quick glance. "I'm going to spend the night at Edward's place. Again."

"Oh."

"Sorry."

"It's my fault," I interfered conciliatorily. "It was a last moment invitation."

Angela shrugged indifferently, not seeming to care. "Okay."

Isabella eyed her with suspicion. "How did it go last night?"

"What do you mean?" she feigned ignorance, touching her curlers to check if they were still in place.

"Did you… get back together?"

Although I had no clue what they were talking about, I noticed, somewhat entertained, that Angela looked embarrassed. Her cheeks turned a light shade of pink as she seemed bent on avoiding Isabella's eyes.

She cleared her throat, waving her left hand towards nothing in particular. "Well…"

Isabella gasped. "You slept with him?"

"A little," she admitted with a whisper.

Isabella let out an incredulous laugh. "You slept with him a little?"

"It was really quick," Angela said in her defense. "He was tired and... had been abstinent since we broke up."

"You slut!" Isabella accused jokingly.

Angela cocked an eyebrow challengingly. "At least I got some action."

In return, Isabella narrowed her eyes at her. "Yeah, you got action alright. Thirty seconds of it."

The banter between them had been entertaining until Angela remembered I was still there.

"Thirty seconds is better than nothing," she shot, quickly regaining her snarky attitude as she directed her attention on me. "Yeah, I'm looking at you. This poor girl hasn't seen cock in years."

If up until that moment I had thought nothing coming from Angela could shock me anymore, I had been completely wrong. I stared at her in horror, feeling the color drain from my face.

"Shut up, Angela!" Isabella yelled scandalized. Grabbing my hand, she started dragging me towards her bedroom. "Come on, Edward," she muttered, glaring at her. "Ignore her."

I let myself be guided as Isabella pushed me towards her bed, slamming the door behind us. I sat down and let my gaze take in my surroundings, realizing it was the first time I was in her room. Just like the rest of the apartment, it was small, but very organized and simply but tastefully decorated.

Grumbling under her breath, Isabella tossed a carry-on bag in the middle of the floor, starting to take clothes out of her closet. She roughly shoved a pair of pajamas, her slippers and a pair of underwear inside, all the while muttering obscenities addressed to her friend.

"Trust me, I'm as sexually frustrated as you are, if not even more," I spoke gently, watching her hurried movements.

She startled at the sound of my voice as if she had momentarily forgotten I was in the room. Not looking up, she zipped the bag, and went back to the closet to select fresh clothes to change into. "I'm not sexually frustrated."

Walking over to her, I wrapped my arms around her waist. "We'll take our time," I whispered in her ear comfortingly. "You shouldn't care about what Angela thinks. We have all the time in the world to get there."

Slowly, she leaned back into me, resting her head on my shoulder, and I could feel the tension gradually leave her body.

~~ 0 ~~

It was about six in the afternoon when we finally made it back to my place. The mall had been packed with delayed shoppers like me, and it had taken every ounce of will power I had in me not to say fuck it and abandon the whole deal. Having Isabella constantly reminding me that I was the one who had left everything for the last moment didn't help either. At some point she had reproached me that it was my fault so I had better stopped complaining, and it was like being married all over again. No matter if they were twenty, forty or eighty, all women had that nagging habit of scolding the men in their life for the most insignificant things. We even had a small fight over what color the scarf I bought for Susan should be. I opted for black because it went with everything while Isabella insisted she liked emerald green better. Everything was soon forgotten after a few minutes of intense making up in the mall's parking lot.

The condo smelled divinely of cooked food, so our first stop was the kitchen.

"Good afternoon, Susan," I greeted, taking in the pots on the stove and the sweet delicacy she was currently working on.

She smiled warmly, placing raspberries as a last touch over the already sprinkled sugar. "Good afternoon, sir. Miss."

"Everything smells great," Isabella gushed in awe, inhaling the aromas greedily.

"Thank you. Mr. Cullen requested Bûche de Noël for dessert."

Isabella approached the kitchen island, staring down at the result of Susan's work curiously. "It looks mouthwatering."

"It is," I assured her, resting my hand on her hip. "It's the best dessert in the world."

Placing the paper gift bag in front of Susan, I said, "This is for you. Isabella picked it out."

Susan froze holding a raspberry between her fingers and looked up at me with big, wide eyes. She clearly hadn't expected to get anything from me. She put the small fruit down and wiped her hands on a towel before grabbing the paper bag hesitantly.

"It's beautiful," she said appreciatively, touching the silky fabric. Turning to Isabella, the corners of her mouth turned upwards. "Thank you."

Isabella simply winked at her conspiratorially.

"And this…" I added, pulling out my wallet and selecting five one hundred dollar bills, "…is your Christmas bonus."

It was exactly ten per cent of her monthly salary. Isabella looked taken aback at the sum, but Susan was a respectable chef, and I couldn't give her less than she was worth. Great food came with a great price.

"You're too kind," Susan said, accepting the money.

"You make sure I don't starve, so I think it's well deserved."

"Do you need help with anything?" Isabella asked after recovering from her initial shock.

"No, no. I have everything under control," Susan declined politely. "By the way, sir, the Christmas tree is here. It's set up in the living room."

"Excellent," I said pleased. "We should get to work, Isabella."

She groaned softly in protest. "My feet are killing me."

I sighed, holding my hand outstretched to her. "Tell me about it."

We started heading out of the kitchen when Susan called, stopping me in my tracks.

"Oh, and sir?"

"Yes, Susan?" I turned to face her, my fingers linked with Isabella's.

Her next words had the effect of someone emptying a bucket of ice over my head. "Your mother was here."

"What?" I said hoarsely, not trusting my hearing.

"She was looking for you," Susan replied apprehensively. "She was downstairs in the lobby talking to Peter when I came here."

"Are you sure she was my mother?" I insisted, wishing Peter had been at his desk when I had returned home.

She shrugged. "That's what she told Peter. She was slim, average in height, had caramel-colored hair, brown eyes, I think…"

I nodded, recognizing my mother's description. "What did Peter tell her?"

"That you and the miss went out."

Thanking Susan for the head's up, I led Isabella towards the living room where the imposing Christmas tree was waiting silently.

"What was she doing here?" Isabella inquired softly, crossing her arms over her chest almost in a protective manner.

I stared at her unseeing. I couldn't believe that my mother had actually gone as far as coming here. I had expected her to be mad and pester me with phone calls the entire day until I finally caved in and answered. What I hadn't expected was for her to act so… neurotic. She had always been a controlling person, but this… this was just too much.

"She wants to know who you are," I said, focusing back on her face. She looked worried and a bit anxious.

"You told her about me?"

I nodded hesitantly. "Yes."

"When?"

"Today, over the phone."

Isabella looked down at her arms, a crease forming between her delicate eyebrows. "How did she take it?"

"Not too well," I said sadly, confirming her suspicions.

Isabella gave a curt nod, looking downright discouraged. "Well…" she exhaled, letting the rest of the sentence hang in the air for a few seconds, "…it was expected, right?"

Not sparing me another glance, she directed her steps towards the Christmas tree where she stood, pretending to examine it with interest.

"It's beautiful," she said absentmindedly.

~~ 0 ~~

All of a sudden my phone gave a loud shrill, making me freeze with my hand suspended above the dense evergreen branch. Isabella looked down at me questioningly from where she was perched up on a tall stool so she could reach the top of the immense tree. Returning the red ornament back into the box it had came from, I headed over to the coffee table.

"It's Emmett," I spoke in confusion, reading the display.

She shrugged, urging me with a wave of her hand to take the call.

"Yes?" I answered uncertainly.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he seethed in greeting, his voice hoarse and loaded with anger.

"I take it mom called you," I replied calmly, throwing Isabella a reassuring look. She scowled, going back to hanging another glass ornament.

"You're ditching your family for that piece of ass you keep hidden from us?"

As his insulting words resonated in my ears, my face instantly distorted from a cool façade to an enraged expression. "Watch your fucking language, Emmett," I spat, my left hand curling into a fist.

Isabella's head snapped in my direction, her eyes widening at the curse that had just escaped my lips. I didn't think I had ever sworn in front of her before.

There was a brief pause before Emmett snorted into the phone. "Well, well. Give her my respect. She already managed to turn you against us," he said sarcastically.

"What the fuck do you want?" I gritted, trying hard not to loose it completely.

"I want you to stop acting like a hormonal teenager and come to dinner tonight," he demanded, the sound of his pacing echoing through the otherwise silent background.

"I said I won't be coming, and there's nothing you can do to make me change my decision."

"You're so fucking selfish. You'd better keep that Bella of yours away from me because as soon as I lay eyes on her, I'm going to give her a piece of my mind," he threatened through clenched teeth.

I was about to reply when abruptly the line went dead, leaving me with heated, biting remarks on the tip of my tongue. The fight was over as soon as it had started.

I stood there, feeling dumbfounded.

"Motherfucker!" I exploded unexpectedly, startling Isabella and causing her to yelp. I hurled my cell phone at the couch, and it bounced back, landing on the floor with a loud noise. There was a big probability I had broken it, but I couldn't care less.

Stomping my way out of the room, I headed towards the bedroom. I lay on my back onto the bed, rubbing my palms over my face and compelling myself to calm down. I would have given anything to have Emmett in front of me so I could smash his face against the wall.

The urge to take my anger out on him reminded me of when we were kids. He had been patronizing and ordering me around since I could remember, and that never sat well with me. Although he was my older brother, it didn't stop me from riposting. I was bad-tempered, especially as a teenager, and because of that my fights with Emmett had been many. I had lost count of the times I had given him a black eye or a busted lip. In return, due to his advantage in size and strength, he would sweep the floor with me and sometimes even break a minor bone or two.

Our altercations eventually led to our parents fighting because Mom was always on Emmett's side while Dad was on mine. Emmett was my mother's golden son while I was the rebellious one. Jasper was somewhere in between.

The mattress sank under someone's weight and soon after soft hands covered mine. Revealing my eyes, I saw Isabella looking at me with concern.

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling bad for my outburst.

"What happened?" she inquired with a whisper.

"My brother happened," I gritted through clenched teeth, turning my head to the side to stare at the window. "I'm sick and tired of him telling me how to live my life. Just because he's a few years older it doesn't mean he has the right to boss me around."

"Calm down." She linked her fingers with mine and gave my hand a light squeeze in an attempt to appease me. "Edward..."

When I refused to tear my eyes away from the window, she cupped my cheek, making me look at her.

"Hey," she said, stroking the skin under my left eye with her thumb.

I let out a sigh. "I just want them to leave me the fuck alone."

"Do you want me to make you some tea?" she kindly offered. "It'll relax you."

I nodded, and she got up, exiting the bedroom. Five minutes later she was back with a steaming mug smelling of chamomile tea I didn't even know I had.

"Here you are." She placed it into my awaiting hand.

"Thanks," I said with what I hoped to be a grateful smile. I inhaled deeply, the smell only having the effect of soothing my nerves immediately.

"You're welcome," she answered, watching me sip on the hot liquid.

We sat in silence with me taking sip after sip and her watching me absently. I was absorbed by my own thoughts and so seemed to be Isabella.

The next thing I became aware of was the slight movement of her head as she turned her attention to the floor-to-ceiling window. My eyes became focused again as I followed her gaze. Outside the weather was getting worse. The snow was now much more abundant while the wind had intensified in strength in the past hours. It looked like Chicago was going to have a stormy Christmas this year. Unfortunately for me, that applied in my personal life as well. However, compared to the previous year that had been the most somber Christmas I had ever lived, this was ten times more bearable. There was no medicine involved… no vomiting… no sickness, and most importantly… no restless, nightmare-plagued nights.

Glancing back at Isabella, I spent a few minutes studying her profile. For some reason, she was more beautiful than I'd ever seen her, with her dark hair pinned on top of her head in a loose bun and her incredibly long lashes that from my angle looked like they were reaching her eyebrows. But then I reminded myself… not only was she attractive on the outside but also on the inside. She was kind and caring and more capable of love than any other woman I had ever met.

I had to admit I was in awe of the patience she was showing me. I knew that probably anyone else in her shoes wouldn't have bothered to put up with me and my problems. In all honesty, who would ever want to deal with a man that not only still mourned his dead wife, but also had impossible relatives that found some sort of sick satisfaction in interfering into his life?

Sometimes I had this crazy thought that Tanya had put Isabella in my path. Not only the circumstances in which I had met Isabella were sort of amusing, but they corresponded with Tanya's odd sense of humor. Even more, in the days before her death, when she was still conscious of her surroundings, Tanya had made promise that I was going to rebuild my life. Although it hadn't been in her nature to be either jealous or possessive of me, I knew that had been her last attempt at redeeming herself. Until the last moment, the guilt of never being able to give me children had stayed with her.

I only knew Isabella a few months, and yet she made feel hope. I wasn't exactly a religious man, but if by some miracle this was indeed Tanya's work, all I could do was thank her and pray that her soul finally found the peace she had been deprived of during her short time on Earth.

"We need to finish decorating the tree," Isabella's voice brought me out of my reverie.

The unfinished tea had gone cold in my hand. Placing the mug on the nightstand, I rose to my feet, helping Isabella up. Wordlessly, I leaned down and kissed her warm cheek.

"Thank you," I whispered.

She stared up at me, her eyes wide as saucers. She was confused, but I simply smiled knowingly.

Taking her hand, I guided her back into the living room.

"It looks great," I observed when the evergreen tree was all done in red and gold.

Isabella nodded approvingly, looking pleased with the final result. "It does."

"Dinner is ready; the table is set," Susan announced joyfully from the doorway. She was wiping her hands on a towel, her gaze trained on the fully decorated giant.

"Thank you, Susan. You can go now. I know your son is waiting for you."

"Well… Merry Christmas then."

"Merry Christmas," Isabella responded.

"I'll see you to the door," I said, walking over to her.

When I was back, Isabella was putting the empty boxes to their place.

"Let's dine," I said, motioning towards the nearby dining room. She shoved the rest of the boxes next to the others then followed after me.

The heavy, black walnut dining table was nicely decorated with one of those red Christmas flowers; Susan's courtesy of course. Surrounding it there were numerous plates including the traditional ham, mashed potatoes, gravy, rolls, stuffed mushrooms, citrus squares, Bûche de Noël and white wine. It was actually a lot of food for two people.

I held the chair for Isabella, and she sat, looking up at me with merry, sparkling eyes.

"Wine?" I asked, uncorking the bottle.

She held her glass to me. "Yes, please."

~~ 0 ~~

After dinner, as we cleaned up the table, I noticed Isabella was staring down at the plates with a frown on her face.

"What is it?" I inquired warily.

"I was thinking…" she said contemplatively, "… could I take some of this food to the nice man downstairs? It's probably going to waste anyway."

"You mean Peter?" I said, a bit confused, then added for clarification, "…the doorman?"

She smiled timidly, biting on her lower lip. "Yeah."

"But of course." I chuckled, wondering why I haven't thought of that myself. "Do you want me to take it to him?"

"No, I don't mind doing it."

Seeming happier, she generously filled a large plate, making sure to take what was left of the wine bottle with her also. I cocked an eyebrow at her attempt to get the poor man to drink while working, but she just rolled her eyes at me, ordering me to open the door for her.

Not liking the silence in the house, I walked over to the audio system and put on a Christmas carols CD. I finished placing the dishes in the sink and the leftovers in the fridge, and fifteen minutes later Isabella still hadn't made it back. Getting bored by myself, I opened another bottle of wine, red this time, and started washing the dishes.

As I worked on scrubbing grease, a task I was pretty used to from my years of marriage, I kept glancing at the clock. Another five minutes passed, then ten, and by the time the front door opened, it was a full half an hour later.

"I was starting to get worried," I spoke over my shoulder when I heard her footsteps getting closer.

She came to stand next to me with a girlish smile. "Sorry," she apologized, glancing down at my glass with interest. Picking it up, she took a small sip, and I noticed her cheeks were slightly flushed.

"I think you've had enough wine for one night," I said, half teasing half serious.

She shrugged nonchalantly, but put the glass back down on the countertop.

"How is Peter?"

"He's fine. He loved the food, by the way. He said the ham tastes exactly like his wife's."

"Mmhmm," I hummed, putting the last fork to dry. Tossing the rubber gloves into the sink, I grabbed my glass and Isabella's hand and led her over to the living room.

She sat on the couch with her legs folded underneath her. Holding one finger up, I silently communicated my desire for her to stay put and wait. I headed over to my study to get what I needed from my desk's drawer, making my way back to her. I took a seat on the edge of the couch, placing the blue jewelry box in her lap.

Isabella opened it tentatively, a faint gasp escaping her lips at the sight of the earrings. The square blue rocks supported by a single white gold band were actual sapphires, but she didn't need to know such an insignificant detail. I suspected she wouldn't have been very content if she did.

"Oh, Edward," she said weakly, her left hand covering her mouth.

"Do you like them?" I asked unsure.

She nodded vigorously. "They're beautiful. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Put them on. I want to see them on you."

She did as I asked, and I leaned back to take her in. The color suited her skin perfectly just as I had imagined.

"Lovely," I murmured, tracing the lobe of her ear with my forefinger.

Leaning over, she kissed my lips softly in return.

"Do you want to share Christmas stories?" she asked excitedly, moving closer to me.

It was actually a good idea. "I don't see why not. You go first."

She was quiet for a moment while she searched her mind. "I was five when I first asked my parents for a pet. One day, I saw a golden retriever puppy commercial on TV, and the idea that I had to have one stuck in my head. So, I got up from the floor where I had been playing with my dolls, and strolled into the kitchen where Mom was baking cookies. She said I had to discuss it with Dad, so when he came home from work, I assaulted him with the big question. After mulling over the idea, he shook his head with regret explaining in a soft voice that a puppy was a big responsibility and that I should wait until I grew a little more. I pleaded, cried and threw a tantrum, but nothing seemed to work on my father. He was firm in his decision. That happened about two weeks before Christmas. Then, a week before December 25th, I fell ill. I had caught some kind of stomach bug and had to be hospitalized. My parents were distraught, but especially my Dad. I can still remember the fear in his eyes like it all happened yesterday."

Here Isabella trailed off with a saddened expression, and I couldn't begin to imagine what it was like to loose both parents at such a young age. I had to be sincere and admit that I was and had always been more fond of my father, but the thought of loosing my mother wasn't one I liked dwelling on. Even though she had her many flaws, she was still the woman who had brought me to this world, and I had a decent amount of love and respect for her.

"Anyway… I was released from the hospital on Christmas morning. My stomach still hurt a bit, and I was cranky as hell. Dad carried me into the house, going straight to the living room where the Christmas tree was. I was so distracted by my illness that I had actually forgotten all about Santa. Dad sat with me on his lap in his favorite armchair. All of a sudden there was this strange sound resembling the one of running paws. The next thing I knew, the object of my desire stumbled its way into the room with its floppy ears and its tongue falling out of its mouth, going straight for us. I named him Floppy due to its ears. To this day, that morning kept its status as the best Christmas of my life."

Isabella finished her story and looked at me with a smile.

"Okay." I nodded, knowing it was my turn. "I remember I was about twelve when I had my first crush. Her name was Lisa and she had just moved across the street from us. I'd never been a shy kid, but Lisa had a scary looking father, so I never dared talking to her. I kept spying her from my bedroom's window, and every time Emmett would catch me, he would tease me mercilessly. It was the second day of Christmas when I spotted her outside making a snowman. Her dad was nowhere in sight and neither was his car, so I quickly grabbed my new bike and made my way over to her."

I had to pause for a moment because a booming laugh was threatening to escape me at the memory.

"So, I went to her and said… 'Hi. I like your hair.'"

Isabella chuckled, and I held out my hand. "Wait, there's more."

Clearing my throat, I continued, "Lisa gave me an odd look, going back to her snowman. Feeling hurt in my manly pride, I went on with the compliments. I told her she had amazing green eyes and that her pink beanie was nicest one I had ever seen on a girl."

"Ooh, you were such a smooth talker," Isabella laughed with gusto, and I joined her.

"Yeah. And yet, she kept ignoring me. I should've just taken the hint and left. But no, I had too much of an ego. I don't really remember what went on in my head, but at some point I grabbed her hand and pulled her to me, making sure to plant an awkward, wet kiss on her lips. Not only had she shrieked and slapped me in return, but in that exact moment her Dad's car was pulling in the driveway. His face was red with anger, and I actually think I peed a little in fear. He got out of the car and started yelling profanities with his fists clenched and his thick moustache twitching. Abandoning my bike, I spun around and started running for the house. Just as I opened the door, I ran into Dad who was preparing to leave."

Isabella was now laughing so hard, tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"Lisa's father came thundering, bent on getting his hands on me. Dad pushed me behind him, keeping a firm grip on my shoulder because I was struggling to get away. I was terrified. But to shorten the story… I was forced to apologize to both Lisa and her father, and on top of that I had to swear I wasn't going to get near her again. From that day forward, I promised myself I wasn't going to fall in love ever again."

"This is the funniest childhood story I've heard in a while," Isabella said, wiping at her eyes.

"It wasn't so funny then. Not to me anyway. But I guess I couldn't keep my promise to myself forever."

Gradually, the laugh died on Isabella's lips.

"How was she? Your wife, I mean," she asked tentatively.

"She was a good person. She was kind and passionate and had a temper that topped even mine."

Encouraged by my willingness to share things about my ex-wife, she went on, "How did you meet?"

"We met in college. I'd never been a believer in love at first sight, but… I think it was."

"Do you miss her?"

"Of course I do," I answered sincerely. "I even miss the fights. We fought a lot, especially towards the… end. She had leukemia."

"What did you fight about, if you don't mind me asking?"

I sighed, running a hand though my hair. "Before we found out she had that awful disease, the reason we fought was that I wanted a child, and she became self-conscious because she couldn't give it to me. She thought I was going to leave her. It's a long story, much too depressing for this time of joy. The thing is… her inability to have children affected the perception she had about herself and in the end our relationship."

When I glanced at her, I saw that Isabella was staring at her lap pensively. "So… you want to become a father?"

I took my time before replying. I didn't want to scare her away. She was still young, and I was willing to bet children were the last thing on her mind.

"Very much so," I said gently, watching her expression cautiously.

To my utter surprise, when she looked up, a radiant smile lightened her features.

A/N Alright, so I want to ask my wonderful readers a question. A few days ago a friend of mine and I had a heated debate over what kind of men we find appealing.

So, I'm asking you ladies… do you prefer a man who is financially more powerful than you, because you want to feel taken care of and protected… or… are you so independent that you prefer a man who earns if not the same then less than you?

Let me know!

Thanks for reading as always!

~ Andreea ~