Chapter 18
-0-0-0-
The door squeaks on its hinges when I press my ear against it. Startled, I back away slightly, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I'm still alone. When I know the coast is clear, I lean forward once more, softer this time.
"…go, or just hang out here?" The thick wood distorts my brother's voice, but I'm able to understand him well enough.
"No, man, let's go out. There's nothing to do around here."
Edward.
And after an entire week of avoiding me, I'm guessing I'm the "nothing" in the "to do around here" equation.
My cheeks burn with shame and my eyes fill with unshed tears. Silently, I back away from my brother's bedroom door as gently as I'm able; the fear of being found out temporarily greater than the pain in my chest.
-0-0-0-
I've spent my entire summer lusting after Edward, and while I've managed to keep up with my reading list for school, maintaining friendships has fallen by the wayside during my days spent sleeping and lounging and staring.
With summer break coming to a close and exactly one month left until school starts, I figure I'd better get busy repairing my relationships. Relationship, rather.
My mom's in the kitchen, shoving food in and out of the freezer harshly. Getting ready to pack the camper, from the looks of it, although why she does everything with such intensity, I'll never understand. She only knows one speed: rapid.
"Mom," I call, and wait for her head to appear around the freezer door. "Do you care if I invite Angela over to hang out this afternoon?"
Her pencil-drawn eyebrows dip in confusion. "Why would I care, Bella? Do whatever you want." She bends to grab a vacuum sealed bag of chicken cutlets and heaves them into the small space between several packages of frozen corn. "I bought so much food for our trip, and I don't see how it will ever fit! I'm thinking about doing a chicken in the crock-pot and…"
I turn softly and slip out, ducking into the unused office across the hall to dial Angela. Thankfully, she says she's free and agrees to come over for awhile. While I wait, I busy myself on my dad's laptop, double checking my reading list and scouring for any new, important information about the upcoming school year.
Angela arrives faster than I'd expected, and I snag her at the front door and haul her straight up to my room. The less interaction she has with my weird family, the better.
"You cut your hair," I squeal, pointing an accusing finger at Angela's layered locks. "I love it."
"Do you?" She frowns slightly as she shakes it back and forth, the shorter pieces falling in front of her eyes. "I think it's too short."
"No way," I reply. "It's great. I've been wanting to cut mine, too. It's so dry from all the chlorine." I run my fingers through my sun-kissed hair. It feels like hay, and it kind of looks that way too, and I'm suddenly embarrassed at the thought of how basic and bland I'll look standing next to Angela at school this year. This summer has changed her, and while it's changed me too, my changes are secrets I keep buried deep inside.
Her eyes widen as she looks me up and down. "You got boobs!" she gasps, pointing back and forth at my tank-top clad chest. "And big ones!"
"No I didn't," I hiss, covering my chest with my arms. "It's just the shirt." I don't know why I'm embarrassed, or why I'm denying what's obvious. I really did get boobs. They appeared overnight, and they're big and awkward and sore. All the time I spent wishing for them and, as it turns out, they're really not that great.
"Did someone say boob?" Emmett's muffled bellow comes from down the hall.
I give Angela a scathing look. "Do you see why you can't say these types of things in this house?" I mutter, gesturing to my closed bedroom door. Then, turning, I clear my throat delicately. "Fuck off, Emmett!" I bellow back.
I roll my eyes. "I'm sorry," she giggles. "I forgot he's always listening."
We settle back against the wall beside my bed and busy ourselves looking at the magazines Angela brought. "He's actually been busy this summer," I tell her, pointing out a hairstyle that I like. "It's been quiet. Very…nice."
She snorts. "Emmett? Quiet? I find that hard to believe." Setting her magazine aside, she grins at me and nudges my knee. "Unless Edward is rubbing off on him."
"Shh," I hiss. "They hear everything." I hurry to the door and open it a crack to peak outside. Thankfully, the hallway is blessedly empty. Returning to the bed, I flop down beside Angela and lean in closely, keeping my voice at a whisper. "Edward and I…we…" I wave my arm back and forth between the two of us, summarizing the biggest milestone of my sheltered life with a sweep of my hand. I'm suddenly desperate to share the secret I've been keeping.
Wide eyed, she shakes her head in confusion. "You…what?"
"We…you know," I tell her, still gesturing. It still sounds surreal to my ears, even weeks later, but as I speak it aloud, even indirectly, it feels as though I'm giving it permission to be true.
"You did THAT?" she screams, covering her mouth with her hands.
"Shh!" I hush her again. "No one knows. You have to be quiet."
We fall silent for a moment as she takes in what I've just shared. "I'm sorry," she says, bewildered. "I just…I can't believe it. You had sex with Edward. Edward Cullen!"
"Oh my—Angela," I hiss, gripping her elbow. "You have got to be quiet!"
Once my friend composes herself, we whisper-talk our way through the details. It feels so good to share this with her, to allow myself to be young and silly for a change. She collapses in giggles when I hold my hands up to show her what Edward looked like under his pants, and she gasps when I tell her how it felt when he was over me and in me and coming undone.
"That's so hot," she wails, fanning herself with her magazine.
It's not until she asks me where he got the condom, that I wonder—for the first time—if maybe there's a glaring detail I failed to consider.
.
.
When Edward and I decided on a park, it sounded like a really good idea. Nice, neutral ground, plenty of distractions to keep things lighthearted and fun. When we decided that it should just be us—no uncles or friends or newly informed grandparents—that, too, sounded like a great idea.
In reality, though, it's cold and windy, and I feel exposed and vulnerable without the security of my brother and his girlfriend by my side to hold my hand and keep me steady when Ava meets her dad for the first time.
Despite the cool weather, sweat slicks my palms as I watch Ava interact with a little boy her age near the slides. Every so often, I scan the parking lot for Edward's car, although there's still a few minutes left before he's due to arrive.
We've been preparing for this day all week. Ava knows her dad is going to join us at the park while she plays, but she's surprised me with her lack of interest. Normally, she's an overly inquisitive girl, asking questions about the whys and hows and whens of everything, but this topic she's left mostly untouched. I'm unsure if this means she's okay or bothered or completely ruined by what we've done to her, and I'm afraid to analyze it much further.
She needs this, I tell myself.
Right?
She deserves to know her father. And he deserves to know her.
Right?
These thoughts play on a constant loop in my head as I watch my daughter interact with her new friend. She points to something across the playscape and he takes off running, following her command. I'm so proud of this assertive girl of mine. I could learn a lesson or two from her.
"Everything okay?" Lost in the sound of my own thoughts, I didn't hear him approach. Edward rounds the bench slowly—tentatively, even—and sits beside me. He's dressed in faded jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, and he looks every bit like the young dad he's hoping to be.
"Hi," I say, smiling at him. "Everything's good. How're you?"
He blows out a big breath and purses his lips. "Okay, I think." His eyes, wide and vulnerable, never leave mine.
"Nervous?" I ask gently.
His leg bounces anxiously, but he grins widely at me. "Very," he admits. "But so ready."
He still hasn't looked at the playground. Maybe it's nerves…or maybe he's waiting for me to give him permission to see his daughter for the first time.
"Edward," I say in an attempt at sounding far more confident than I really feel. "Do you want me to show you where Ava is? Maybe you can watch her play for a little while and let her see that you're here before we call her over."
He scratches the back of his neck as his eyes flicker to the playground. "Yeah," he says softly before turning back to me. "Where is she?"
As if she's tethered to a string attached to my heart, I spot Ava instantly. She's hunkered down with the same boy, drawing pictures in the sand under a vacant swing set.
Glancing over my shoulder, I catch Edward's eyes again and point in her direction. "There she is," I murmur. "Playing under the swings. Do you see her?"
Edward doesn't answer me verbally, he simply stares, his jaw tensing and releasing, his rapid breathing making his chest rise and fall quickly. I try to view Ava through his eyes; see what he must see as he looks at her. She's dressed herself today, her striped tights clashing wildly against her print skirt. In just a moment he'll learn that it matches her personality perfectly. Her light hair blows back from her face, revealing a freckle dusted nose and smile so wide it takes my breath away.
"God, Bella," he breathes. "She's beautiful." The bittersweetness of this moment squeezes my heart and, in turn, my eyes pool with tears. She is beautiful. And I never thought I'd see this day.
Edward grabs my hand and holds it gently. "She's amazing," I agree. "Are you ready to meet her?"
He clears his throat twice before croaking out a hoarse, "Yeah." Sitting straight, he runs his hands through his hair and tries to compose himself, a gesture that seems boyishly charming in the face of such a heavy situation.
"Hey," I whisper, leaning in to him slightly. "This is going to be fine. You're going to love her."
The weight my words carry, while unintended, seems to be all that Edward needed to hear. He grins, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs before clapping them together once. "I'm ready," he replies.
"Ava!" I call loudly, waving my arm to get my girl's attention. She notices me immediately and waves back, before turning to the boy in the sandbox and gesturing our direction. Standing, she dusts her hands off on the back of her pants and begins her normal skip-walk-jump decent over to our bench.
The closer she gets, the more Edward seems to realize how much she favors him, and his knee starts jumping again. I've had nearly seven years to study every inch of her, but he hasn't, and I wonder what it must feel like to see her for the first time.
Her eyes flicker to Edward briefly as she nears, but just like any other stranger sitting next to me on a park bench, she doesn't pay him any attention. "That's Parker," she says, climbing onto the bench beside me and pointing out her new friend. "He's in 2nd grade at my school."
"Yeah?" I say, nodding. "Is he nice?"
She sighs wearily. "I guess. He kept trying to bulldoze everything, but I finally got him to focus on something else." She stands up and walks to the edge of the playground, as if she's supervising him from afar.
Edward snorts softly beside me.
"Hey, Ava," I say, calling her back over. I hold her hands when she's close enough and speak to her quietly, knowing she'll be unhappy if I draw any unwarranted attention her way. "Do you remember how I told you that your daddy was going to join us at the park today, so that he could meet you?"
She nods her head stiffly and cuts her eyes to Edward. As usual, she's far more observant than I've given her credit for.
I turn toward Edward, who's waiting patiently next to me on the bench. "This is him, Ava. We talked about his name. Do you remember?"
"Yeah." She throws a tiny wave his way. "I said Edward Swan and you said, no, Edward Cullen."
Edward throws his head back and laughs. His smile, genuine and bright, must ease any discomfort she felt at meeting this new stranger, because she giggles along with him, shrugging as if she's unsure what they're laughing at.
"Whoa," Edward says, nodding at her smiling mouth. "How many teeth have you lost?"
"Four," she boasts. "Most in my class."
Edward whistles, shaking his head. "The most in your entire class? That's pretty impressive."
Ava shines with pride, and if it were anybody else, I probably wouldn't think twice about this conversation, but Edward's not anybody else. He's her dad, and because of that, there's weight and power in each of his words and all of his actions.
"When I was little boy, I lost two teeth at the same time," he says, pausing while Ava climbs onto my lap, situating herself so that she can see him. "And my little sister hadn't lost any, so guess what she did?"
"What?" Ava whispers, wide-eyed.
"She started tugging at her teeth," he says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "Until, eventually, one finally fell out."
I'm impressed with Edward's ease around Ava. He laid-back and calm with her, not at all overpowering or obnoxious like adults tend to be when they're talking to kids.
He'll be a good dad someday. The thought pops into my head before I can stop it, and I mentally reprimand myself for my wandering mind. He already is a dad, and prior to this little chat he wasn't so great.
Ava tells Edward about the loose tooth status of nearly every kid in her class, and he listens intently, nodding when he needs to, and laughing when she's cute. From my angle, I can see the profiles of their faces, and the similarities are striking: eyes that crinkle at the corners when they smile, same dark hair, same pouty lips.
Abruptly, Ava stops talking and stares at her father. "How old are you, anyway?" she asks him.
"I'm twenty-five," he answers, leaning against the back of the bench and catching my eye.
Ava plays with my necklace distractedly. It's something she does when she's uncomfortable, a sign of her insecurity. "My mom said you were too young to be my dad," she says quietly. "Are you all grown now?"
Edward looks stunned momentarily, but then his face softens into a smile, and he leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "I'm sorry I acted too young to be your dad, Ava. I made a mistake…but I think I'm old enough now. Would it be alright if I try again?"
Still focused on my necklace, she shrugs her small shoulders and gives him a tiny nod. Edward glances at me over the top of Ava's head, and I offer him a smile. He gives me a wide smile of his own. "How do you feel about ice cream?" he asks Ava.
Ava leaps from my lap and bounces up and down on the balls of her feet. "Ice cream's my favorite! Right, Mom?"
Nodding, I gather my bag and her jacket from underneath the bench. "Why don't you go tell Parker goodbye and then we'll head out. Sound good?"
She runs away excitedly, leaving Edward and me grinning in her wake. "Well," I say, turning to face him. "That went really well. Better than I expected."
His face is flushed pink and his eyes are shining. He looks…happy. "She is…incredible," he says softly. "She's so smart and…feisty." He's right, she's all three of those things, and it thrills me to my core that he sees it too.
He's smirking as he watches Ava say goodbye to her friend. "What?" I tease. "What are you so smug about?"
Pink ears and a few shoulder shrugs are proof that he's embarrassed. "She does look a lot like me, huh?" He finally replies, smile stretching full now, ear to ear.
"Yeah," I mutter, my grin matching his. "Tell me about it."
.
.
Two weeks before school starts, I'm fresh-faced clean and warm under my covers when there's a soft knock at my door. It's obviously Edward—no one else ever comes in my room, especially with the courtesy of a knock. I turn my back to the door and burrow further beneath the protection of my thin bedding, feigning sleep. The rush of cool air from the hallway ruffles my sheet and kisses my exposed shoulders as the door cracks open. I listen to Edward's soft footsteps growing closer, his gait stilted as he navigates the piles of books and mounds of clothes littering the path around my bed.
The mattress dips slightly, and I feel the warm heat of his breath against the back of my neck. He smells like cheap beer. "Birdie?" he whispers. "You awake?" His face nuzzles into the soft spot between my shoulder and my ear, his lips making tiny trails up and down my flushed skin.
"No," I murmur.
His response is a low chuckle, and it ignites my traitorous body in gooseflesh. Pulling my shoulder up to squeeze him out, I burrow further beneath my sheets. "Go away," I tell him. "I'm sleeping."
Edward ignores my command, lifting my sheet and pressing his fully clothed body against mine instead. "You're not," he whispers, his hot breath licking the back of my neck in waves. He presses his jean-clad knees against the back of mine, the denim rough on the sensitive skin there. Gripping my hip tightly, he pulls himself flush with my body. "You smell so good," he whisper slurs.
We fit perfectly, wrapped up in each other like this. He's warm and heavy and he gives so good. My body must recognize him from the last time we were together, because it sings loudly in response to his ministrations.
He rough hand tickles my belly as he pushes his way beneath my tank top, gripping and tugging on my tender nipples.
"Edward?" I whisper.
Pulling on my hip again, he turns me to my back and leans over me, wedging his knee between mine and spreading my legs apart. "Hmm," he breathes into my neck.
"Edward," I say again. "Stop." I push on his shoulders lightly, squirming beneath him until he finally rises on his elbows to look at me. "What is this?" I whisper, my voice weak and fragile in the darkness of my bedroom.
"What do you mean?" His dark eyebrows furrow into two, bold stripes across his pale forehead. "What's what?"
I don't think he's drunk, but he's obviously been drinking. His words are sharp and clear, an underlying hint of exasperation laced through them. Should I stop talking when we're with each other this way? As is always the case with Edward, I'm uncertain. I want to be more than just his best friend's little sister conveniently sleeping down the hall.
I grab his head in both hands and pull him to me, kissing him deep and hard like I know what I'm doing. Like I didn't learn it from him.
His kisses are slow and thorough, while his hips are sharp and quick, pushing against the ache between my legs. "You good?" he whispers against my mouth, voice hoarse.
Fat tears hit my pillow like raindrops, and I wonder if he can hear them; if they sound as loud to him as they do to me. Angry, I blink them away and nod. I hate my heart. I hate the way it calls his name.
"I'm good," I say through a watery smile. "It's just…I just wondered, you know…" I pull my hands away from him and cover my face in embarrassment.
"What?" he asks, voice wary. "You wondered what?"
Muffled by my hands, my voice sounds like a little girl's, and I hate that too. "Where you've been…or whatever. The past few weeks?"
He sighs heavily and sits up, dropping his feet on the floor and leaning his elbows on his knees. "I've just been hanging out with Emmett," he says, rubbing his jaw. "Why?"
I didn't even think I wanted him here, but my body already feels empty without him and he hasn't even left yet. "It's just been awhile since I last saw you and—"
"I just saw you, Bella," he says sharply. "Like a few weeks ago."
It's not as if I needed a reminder, but his harsh words and the annoyed way he said them make me feel needy and clingy. Pulling back from him, I sit up and tuck my sheet underneath my arms. "Yeah, I know," I mutter, properly admonished. "I just wondered if we're, like…together, or whatever?" I rush to finish. "Just…you know, what is this. What we're doing?"
Running his hands through his hair roughly, he snorts in annoyance. "It's whatever you want it to be, Bella. Okay?"
"Whatever I want it to be," I repeat.
He stands then, scratching his neck as his eyes flicker to the door. He can't wait to escape from this room. From me. "Yeah…just…Emmett's waiting for me, so I gotta go," he mumbles, already half way out the door.
If I'd know I was already six weeks pregnant with his baby, I might have asked him to stay.
Thanks for reading.