Thanks to Tiffanyanne3.
Chapter 7
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I'm overcome with pity for him, in that moment, and ponder as I stare at his downturned eyes if I'm being too hard on him. He was just a kid, same as me, and he made a stupid, selfish decision. On the other hand, his choice labels him as a inconsiderate, heartless asshole in my eyes, and those are pretty huge character flaws.
He chews his lip while my answer hangs thickly in the air between us. Eventually, I can't take his self loathing anymore and I lean forward in an attempt at getting his attention.
"Edward..." My voice sounds shakier than it did in my head, and now that I've started talking I realize I have no idea what I intended to say.
Shaking my head slightly to clear my thoughts, I start again. "Why exactly are you doing this?" I blurt.
Shit. That wasn't nearly as eloquent as I'd planned.
I'm not sure what I expected, but I'm momentarily stunned by the pained look in his clear eyes when he lifts them to meet mine.
Why am I feeling sorry for this asshole?
Like Emmett, I'm too easy to forgive and forget. It's a flaw in our personalities, one that was passed down from our pacifist mother. The same trait in my brother is the exact reason I'm sitting here today, across from a boy, a man, I swore I would never say another word to. Like my mother, Emmett hates knowing that people are upset with him, and he'll do anything to make things right again. Use of this knowledge about my brother makes it easy to play him like a fiddle. Did Edward take advantage of his kindness to worm information out of him?
And just like that, I'm angry again.
"Why'd you go see my brother?" I quiz him. My words don't sound very kind, but in this moment, I couldn't care less. "Do you have any idea how hard it was on him when you packed up and left town after finding out you'd knocked up his little sister?"
Edward doesn't even have the decency to get riled up. He just continues to sit slouched across from me, accepting my abuse while his shoulders sag under the weight of my words, and something akin to relief takes over his features. Maybe I've done him a favor by holding him accountable after all this time. It occurs to me that I might be the first person that hasn't knowingly enabled his selfish ways.
"Well?"
Clear green eyes flicker back and forth between mine, equal parts vulnerable and certain under the weight of my scrutiny. "I'm so incredibly sorry."
It's barely a whisper, and the heart-wrenching sadness in his tone shocks me into such a state of stunned silence I'm unable to do more than simply stare at him, shocked. I expected excuses from him, or feigned innocence at the very least. Never once, in the hundreds of times I pictured the way this meeting played out, did I expect him to show remorse or take responsibility for his actions.
He's beautiful, even in his sadness, and I can't help but take notice of his outwardly perfection. The youthful face from my memories has transformed into the solid, sharp face of a man. His bright eyes and the unkempt stubble on his jaw do nothing but add to his appeal...and that angers me. How can such outwardly beauty have such ugly internal flaws? I can't be like Emmett. Like our mother. I have Ava to think of, and I have to protect her-protect us-from the pain that Edward Cullen is capable of causing. I can't forgive him, and I can't ever forget. It's just too dangerous.
"You are sorry," I say, my voice low and even, surprising even to me in its confidence. "I don't know what you're playing at here, Edward, but it won't work. I'm not a little girl anymore."
"I'm not playing at anything." He pushes his hands into his hair roughly and tugs it harshly. "Why do you keep saying that?"
He's finally frustrated with me, and I wonder momentarily if I've pushed him too far. Should I retreat? Do I even care? I'm suddenly overcome with exhaustion, tired of over thinking every thought and feeling I have regarding Edward Cullen. I'm a confident person, save for today, and I can't understand why I continue to give him power over my emotions.
"Gosh. I have no idea why I'd think that..." I say dryly.
He rubs his hands over his face tiredly, but I think I detect a hint of a smile peeking out between his fingers. "Maybe I've changed," he says with a shoulder shrug.
"Mmm."
"You're different, Bella. I can't be different, too?" There's a teasing lull to his voice, and I'm relieved that we've managed to move things in a lighter, more relaxed direction.
I sink back into my seat and pull my leg up underneath me, looking away from him with an exaggerated eye roll. "I'm different because I have a child, Edward. Incase you forgot."
"I didn't," he says with a shake of his head. "Forget."
"Right."
He drops his hands heavily on the table and leaves them there, long fingers spread wide. "I was a kid, alright? I was young, dumb..." His eyebrows turn down in the middle and he shakes his head slightly like he's calling back memories. "I fucked up. I realize that now."
"You missed out," I agree.
He lowers his eyes and the look of pain he wears like a scar returns. This time I witness the transformation of his beautiful face myself. I'm sad to see such beauty marred by sadness, but I can't help but feel vindicated in his suffering. Maybe I haven't matured as much as I thought.
We sit in silence for several moments, the heaviness of our situation settling back around us like a thick smoke.
"What's she like?" he asks, eyes turned down, unwilling to meet mine.
"Come on, Edward...are we really going to do this?"
"Please," he whispers, still not looking. "Please tell me."
He's so vulnerable, putting himself out there like this. I try to imagine myself in his shoes, but I can't. I can't fathom ever turning my back on my daughter. Regardless, he's trying, and he certainly seems sincere. As my heart softens toward him, my mind is aflutter with characteristics and attributes that describe Ava. It feels strange, describing my child to her father, but I try to make myself understand his curiosity.
Shifting forward, I fold my hands and rest them on the table top. "Well," I pause and wait for him to look at me. He does eventually and I'm once again floored by how much of Ava I see in him. "She looks just like you, for starters."
He lets out a gust of air, a breath I wasn't even aware he was holding, and beams at me. "Yeah?"
"Mmhmm," I shake my head side-to-side as if to say I can't believe it either.
I'm smiling as I recall my girl, trying to sum up her sweet spirit in just a couple of words. "She's smart, and full of curiosity. Always has been. She's tiny for her age, but super sassy-"
"Just like you," he says through a smirk. Fuck me, I'd forgotten about that smirk.
I roll my eyes in exaggerated offense. "Anyway. She loves to draw and read. Play dress-up. Rose is always buying her makeup and nail polish...she's a real priss."
"Who's Rose?" His eyes are wide with excitement, almost shining in the dim lighting of the coffee shop, and I'm pleased to realize he's literally hanging on to my every word.
"Emmett's girlfriend. She's amazing," I gush. "She's been such a huge help to us, and such a good friend to me."
He simply nods, but I notice his eyes tighten at my mention of us needing help. I'm temporarily annoyed with myself for showing him the least bit of vulnerability in my quest to provide for Ava, but I immediately push the thought aside. I'm human, and I'm vulnerable, just like every other mother.
I shift the conversation back to Ava. "She's in Kindergarten this year. She had a hard time being away from us so much in the beginning, but she's adjusted well and she loves it now."
He's staring at me with his eyebrows furrowed. His lips pushed into a questioning pucker. Fuck me, those lips. I'd forgotten about them, too.
I'm uncomfortable under his intense stare. I feel like he's trying to take me apart. Figure out how I work. Look inside of me at the places I don't want him to see.
"What?"
He bites the inside of his lip and shrugs a shoulder. "Nothing," he says simply. "I like listening to you talk about her. You're an amazing mom."
"Thanks," I say, blushing.
"I think I knew you would be..." He lets his words trail off. "It gave me comfort."
He can't seriously expect me to believe he thought about us, much less cared about our well being. I snort sarcastically under my breath to let him know I'm not buying the brand of bullshit he's selling.
He moves his arm across our table and bumps my raised knee affectionately. "You were sweet. Caring. Even then."
"I was dumb. Naive." I correct.
.
.
I'm in the kitchen making myself a heaping bowl of grits-with extra butter- when the doorbell rings. Home alone, I consider ignoring it altogether, but curiosity gets the best of me and I place my steaming bowl on a placemat to cool while I check the door. I can see through the obscured glass that it's not Anglea...the only person who ever visits me.
Pressing my face to the glass, I'm completely stunned to see the tousled hair and lanky outline of Edward Cullen.
A glance at my feet reminds me that I'm barefoot and still wearing an old pair of Emmett's boxer shorts underneath a ratty tank top. Of-fucking-course.
I unlock the bolt on the door and open it just far enough for me to stick my head through.
"Oh, hey Edward." I make a real effort to sound casual. "Em's not here. Mom & Dad wanted him to tour a bunch of campuses today."
He stands up tall and rests his hand on the front door, giving it a small push. "Mind if I come in and wait?"
I pull the door open wide enough to let him pass and then turn quickly to lock it back, taking a moment to compose myself before turning back around to face him. His eyes scan my body from head to bare toes, making my cheeks flame hot under his gaze.
"Nice boxers, Birdie." he says with a smirk.
Tugging on the hem of my tank, I gesture awkwardly toward the kitchen. "I was just making some grits. You want some?"
Edward shakes his head, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "I haven't had grits since I was, like, five."
"Well then you've been missing out," I lead the way into the kitchen, him trailing behind me. "I'm a grits pro."
"Are you now."
I nod, stirring my cooled grits. "Mm."
Taking a seat at the table beside me, Edward drags my bowl his way and grabs my spoon. "I think I'll have to see for myself, Birdie."
He takes a heaping spoonful and brings it to his mouth. I have to look away. The sight of his full lips hugging the spoon, my spoon, would surely be too much for me to handle.
I give him a moment to swallow before raising my eyebrow in silent question. "Well?"
"Guess I've been missing out after all."
Kicking his legs out in front of him, he watches me finish my snack in silence. After I'm done, I rise and bring my bowl to the sink, rinsing it off and placing it in the dishwasher. Edward swivels in his chair and his eyes follow my every move. My normal routine is completely thrown off kilter under the heavy stare of this gorgeous boy sitting at my kitchen table. We've never been in the same place without the buffer of my overly loud brother. As much as he annoys me, I'm learning that Emmett's exuberance gives me permission to fade quietly into the background of my own home.
Wiping my hands on a dishrag, I cross over to stand in front of Edward. "You can wait for Emmett in his room...or..."
He rises to his feet, standing close to me. "Or, what?"
Overcome with a bout of shyness, I chew my lip nervously and look up at him. "Or nothing."
Taking a small step to fill the gap between us, he looks me up and down once more. "Can I wait out here? With you?"
My senses are totally overcome with all things Edward. His scent, all clean boy and summer, is the only thing I can smell. The air literally pulses around me with the heat of his body so near to mine. I briefly wonder if I might be drowning in him.
I must take too long to give him a direct answer, because he reaches a hand out and tugs playfully at the bottom of my tank top. It doesn't escape my notice that his hand lingers on my hip after the tugging is done.
"Of course," I breathe.
The hand he has on my hip gives me a little squeeze, at the same time pulling me forward, so that we're face to chest. Equal parts elated and terrified, I'm unsure where to put my hands. They hang limply at my sides until I finally convince one to rise and hook itself through the belt loop on Edward's pants.
Having never been this close to a beautiful boy before, I have no idea what to do next. I'm a mess of nerves- eye blinking, rapid breathing, the works- and my mind is spinning out of control, overcome with all things Edward.
In a sudden bout of confidence, I raise my face to look up at his. My breath catches in my throat when I realize how close he is. Right there. He exudes his usual confidence, but there's an underlying look of softness in his eyes that I've never seen before. A sweetness that I didn't know existed.
"Have you ever been kissed, Birdie?" he whispers.
Unable to speak, I simply shake my head, my eyes never leaving his.
The hand on my hip squeezes and tugs once more, until I'm standing unbalanced between his legs. I bring my hands up to his chest to right myself, my breath catching at the feel of his body through the thin material of his t-shirt.
My mind is screaming at me to pay attention. This is happening! I'm about to be kissed by this gorgeous boy! But I'm in a trance, unable to process anything other than the feel of my hands on his chest, his on my hip, my neck, underneath the back of my hair.
His face draws nearer as his thumb softly rubs the sensitive space just below my ear. On instinct, my eyes drift close just as I feel his breath on my face, his mouth on my mouth, lips on my lips.
His kisses are sweet, gentle. Using his thumb to move my mouth where he wants it, he nips and pulls at me, coaxing my lips apart little by little. Relaxing, I begin follow his lead, small flutters of confidence and desire arising in my belly. A small hum breaks my concentration and I wonder briefly if it's Edward...growling? Buzzing?
"The garage door!" I push Edward back with the hands I had resting on his chest and he stumbles back into the chair he'd been sitting in previously.
Wiping frantically at my mouth frantically, I'm begging the blood in my cheeks to retreat when the door in the kitchen blows open and Emmett bounds inside, followed closely by our parents.
"Cullen!" he bellows, bumping Edward's fist. "You're early, dude."
Keeping my back turned seems like a good idea, considering how flushed I must look. I ignore Emmett's boisterous arrival and pretend to busy myself with looking through the fridge.
"No worries," I hear Edward say. "I've just been talking to Bella."
My heart soars at his use of my given name. Turning just enough to see his face, I shoot him an appreciative smile, silently thanking him for covering for me. For us.
Emmett says nothing, and his silence can only mean one thing: I'm about to be on the receiving end of some serious harassing.
Sure enough...
"Jesus, Birdie! Do you not own any fucking pants?" he hollers at me.
I turn and give him my best, most innocent smile. Beside my brother, Edward sits comfortably, his smile wide and his eyes bright. No amount of Emmett's razzing can phase me today. I just kissed Edward Cullen. Edward Cullen just kissed me.
"Emmett! Language!" my mother shouts.
Thanks for reading.