Edward. Was. Mad. He was spitting mad.

The blue glow from the underwater lights in the pool behind him did little to dispel the sense of impending doom. Neither did the dark, snow cowered landscape just barely visible through the gigantic panorama window.

The whole pool house could only be described as an architectural design marvel. Esme had certainly outdone herself when designing this most recent extension to the main building. The west slope of the ceiling and the two walls facing the surrounding forest were covered in massive panes of glass. The remaining walls were lined with dark, rough wood and the floor was tiled with beautiful stone tiles. Of course, between the faulty under-floor heating system and all the glass and stone components, the temperature was bordering on intolerable.

Bella pulled the cardigan closer to her frame in an attempt to keep warm. She knew she was shaking, but she tried with all her might to stay as calm as she possibly could.

"Now, explain yourself!" Edward demanded, his posture was stiff and rigid and his knuckles were white from clenching his fists. He was fuming, quite literally fuming. His breath came out in white puffs that dissolved in the air in front of him.

Biting her lip, she raised her eyes to his face. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way," she said. It seemed like the easiest place to start.

"What?" he spat harshly at her "Find out what Isabella? You're going to have to spell this out for me, because I'm at loss here. I can't wrap my brain around any of this."

"I'm sorry," she repeated, bracing herself for the onslaught she knew was coming. "What do you want me to say, Edward? Your little swimmers have gone done it again. I'm PREGNANT. Preggers. Bun in the Oven. Knoc-…."

"DON'T!" he growled, giving her a withering glare. "Don't — patronize me!"

"That's not wha-…"

"How long have you known?" he interrupted her again, but with a question this time.

"A while…" she paused for a second, deciding on how much to tell him. "I went in for a routine physical exam, something that was required of me in order to get my suspension lifted. They drew some blood and BAM I was told I was pregnant. That's the FBI for you. No sugar coating, no warning."

"How long?" he repeated flatly.

"I just entered my 19th week."

"Your 19th week," he repeated calmly, too calmly, dangerously calm. Bella could see the vein at the back of his jaw starting to twitch, never a good sign. "That's almost five months!" he exploded. He was in her face in a split second, his hands slamming into the wall behind her. "You're telling me you've known for FIVE freaking MONTHS? "

"No!" She kept her face still, forcing her muscles to clench, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flinch. "That's not how it was. That's what I was trying to tell you. No peeing on sticks for me. No counting days, fretting over being late... I'm sure there were plenty of signs, but I was over two months along before I found out."

"But you knew when Alice called you. You knew when you came up to Seattle, when you waltzed into my life like some sort of savior?!" He had his back to her now and she could see his clenched fists as he tried to get himself under control.

"I knew then, yes," she nodded despite knowing that he couldn't see her. "Though, quite frankly I refuse to take all the blame for our lack of communication up to that point. We left things a mess."

Her last remark had him turning to look at her with an oddly sharp gleam to his eyes. "You knew in the cabin when you pulled your track pants down and urged me fuck you senseless over the kitchen counter! You knew last night, when you pushed me down on your bed and straddled me like a seasoned hooker."

This time she couldn't hold back the flinch. "This is exactly why I didn't tell you. I knew you wouldn't be able to handle this! Your maturity level is appallingly low."

Edward lifted an eyebrow and Bella kicked herself internally, she was in no position to give him attitude. They both knew that and the hypocrisy of what she had just said was not lost on Edward.

"You're UNBELIEVABLE!" He let out a humorless laughter, shaking his head. "How am I the immature one, when you're the one that's been flat out lying for months? How could you do this to me, to us? Don't you have a soul? A conscience? A brain? A heart?"

"Edward, please," she was full on shaking now, taken aback by his harsh words and the cold, accusing tone of his voice. The dampness of her clothes, which she had all but forgotten about, weren't helping matters, either. "I had my reasons. Anthony…."

"Don't go there! I don't bring Anthony into this. I don't want to hear it. I…I cannot believe you would lie about something like this. I thought we were making progress; that we were reconnecting, as friends at the very least. I can't trust a word you're saying. How do I even know that that thing you're growing is really mine?"

"Don't call it a THING or tell me it's just a bunch of cells." Slowly, she unbuttoned the cardigan, Rosalie's cardigan, the only dry piece of clothing she was wearing. She sucked in a quick breath as the cold air assaulted her. It couldn't be helped, he needed to see. "It's a baby, a tiny life, living, moving, inside of me. And yes it's yours! There hasn't been anyone else."

She heard him suck in a breath as his gaze dropped to where her arms were wrapped protectively around her abdomen.

That's right! Take a good look, she urged him silently in her mind.

She began peeling the fabric away from where it had plastered itself, but Edward stopped her by cursing loudly and averting his eyes.

"Don't bother! You'll get cold," he muttered, turning his back to her.

"I already am," she sighed. "Chilled to the bone."

"Then maybe you should go back into the house," he suggested, and moved to stand by the window.

She could hear the finality in his voice and she could tell that he was purposely avoiding looking at her. This wasn't working. How were they supposed to solve anything, when he wouldn't even look at her?

"Edward," his name came out sounding like a plea. "I... Please, don't push me away or hide behind your walls. Not this time. We need to talk about this. Don't you want to be a part of this with me? Don't you want us to be together?"

"You lost the right to tell me what to do or how to react when you lied to me," he stated, turning so that he was facing the window instead of the rest of the room. "I don't see us having a future together when I can't even stand being in the same room as you. If you don't leave, I will."

"But..." she said.

"But what?" he asked. "What else is there to say? You really messed up this time. There is no magic fix-all cure or mutual trust wand to wave around this time."

Bella bit her lip, feeling her throat choke up. She couldn't just leave. She couldn't let this one shot at explaining herself slip away. There had to be something she could say to hold his interest, something to shake him up, something like-…. "I love you," she blurted out before losing courage.

"Don't drag love into this," he snapped with an exasperated sigh, leaning his forehead against the window pane. "It's irrelevant. In fact you might as well stop talking all together because everything coming from you is irrelevant to me now."

Tears blurred her vision, stung her eyes. She fought them. She would not cry. "Love is the one thing that makes the easiest decision easy and the hardest decision harder. I know I messed up, I know I should have told you sooner… are you ever going to forgive me?"

She stared at his back, waiting for a response. The snow on the glass ceiling made for a very surreal, almost ghost-like atmosphere with distorted shadows and shapes. She waited some more. He said nothing.

"I'll stand here all night, if that's what it takes," she told him, silently urging him to turn around.

He didn't. Instead he kept staring at some faraway point in the distance.

"In those clothes? Hardly… You won't last more than an hour in this cold," he remarked with biting sarcasm. "Is this really worth getting sick over."

"That's my decision and why do you care? I'm irrelevant, remember? You just told me so."

He took a deep breath; she watched his shoulders rise and fall with it.

"Go back to the house, Isabella."

"No!"

"Then I'll go."

"Don't!" she snapped, almost... barked, as she watched him straighten his back. She knew she had to say something – anything to make him stay just a little bit longer – but she didn't know what. It was now or never time. "Don't… Don't turn around. I'm… um… I'm undressing," she improvised, hardly caring what she said as long as it meant Edward wouldn't leave her.

"What?" he sounded confused, and rightfully so.

"You were right about these clothes. They are no use to me all wet. They'll make me sick. I'm getting rid of them right now. In fact I'm standing naked behind you this very moment."

"No, you're not. I can see your reflection in the window."

Guess someone was paying her more attention than he let on. Bella deliberated for a split second, then shrugged out of Rosalie's cardigan and dropped it to the ground. There was a clinking sound when its metal buttons hit the stone-tiled floor. "Fine, you caught me, I'm only partly naked."

Wiggling her hips, she struggled to push her jeans down past her pasty white, and admittedly slightly out of shape thighs. The image of those two jiggly things, distorted through the reflection of the glass, was apparently enough of a blinding sight to shut him up, because he said nothing… did nothing…

At least he wasn't talking about leaving anymore….

Stepping out of the denim pile, Bella made a short process of pulling her shirt and sweater over her head. The cold was brutal, but she pushed on. Pushing for a reaction she knew would come. And it did… She was down to a wet, practically see through, T-shirt and her underwear when he whipped around and glared at her accusingly.

"Christ! You're like a wet blanket I can't seem to shake. And not the warm, exciting type. The cold, shitty kind."

"So, we're down to insults now?" She crossed her arms over her torso, trying to capture some of the escaping warmth. "What's next? Are you going to call me a fat slut and take digs at my moral character?"

"The ease with which you threw your clothes off speaks for itself."

He had her there, she had to admit. She really had not thought this through. How had she ever thought this would be a good idea? Before she had a chance to defend herself he continued, "What was it that you wanted me to see so badly, Bella? I'm looking now."

Bella groaned inwardly. Yep, this was definitely a bad idea. She didn't have to look at his face to know his large green eyes were in fact studying her meticulously.

"I can tell what you're not looking at. You're not looking at a beer belly or the consequences of eating too much butter," she told him, her voice betraying her as it wobbled slightly. "This is what 19 weeks pregnant looks like." She pushed her chin out and met his gaze. "Feel free to get your fat jokes out now. I'm sure your itching to comment on my expanding pant size/rear/boobs, yada, yada… Just hurry the f*ck up and get on with it already, because it really is freaking cold in here!"

"You should have thought of that before you decided to strip, "he replied with a snort. "I'm going to have to disappoint you. I'm not too good at crafting witty insults on the spot."

"Like that's ever stopped you before," she muttered under her breath before adding a more audible, "Good, now moving on... Surely somewhere in this godforsaken place there has to be a bathrobe or a towel or something…"

"… or something," he agreed after a brief moment of hesitation. He seemed to have made some sort of decision within himself because it appeared as though his mood had lifted, at least for the moment.

"If you want something to warm yourself with, I suggest you move yourself and that expanding rear of yours towards that brown bamboo wicker thingy in the corner." He gestured to a point over Bella's shoulder, but gave no further explanation as to what he was talking about.

"The room divider?" Bella asked, already moving across the floor… sideways…tugging at the hem of her T-shirt in a vain attempt to keep at least some of her near naked assets under wraps.

"Spare me the modesty act. I couldn't care less about your ass right now."

"Then why are you staring at it?"

"I'm doing no such thing," he said with a shake of his head, but the slight tense in his jaw had already told her she was right. He had been looking, was still looking, and couldn't seem to keep his eyes away. She knew he was probably furious with himself over it.

Fearing his mood would shift again, Bella hurried her steps. Finally reaching the bamboo screen, she slid behind it with a relieved sigh. The sigh, however, quickly became a surprised gasp. Instead of the towels she had expected to find, she found herself face to face with what looked to be a modern, cast iron stove, situated on a flat slab of granite.

"Please tell me this is real and fully functioning!"

"It's real, it's a gas-log fireplace." The closeness of his voice had her jumping in surprise. Edward had made no noise as he moved, but suddenly he was standing right there behind her. "The ignition is electric. You turn it on like this," he demonstrated. "And it will heat up this place in ten, fifteen, minutes tops."

"You couldn't have turned it on sooner?!" Bella grumbled, watching the logs catch fire.

"And missed out on all the fun?" he said with a dry, emotionless chuckle. "In all honesty, I forgot this thing was even here until just a few moments ago."

"Fair enough, I guess. I'm still going to need a towel or something, though," she stated with carefully concealed frustration. "I feel woefully underdressed and pneumonia is no laughing matter." As she spoke her eyes landed on the pile of clothes on the floor.

Rosalie's wool cardigan! It must still be mostly dry. Why didn't she think of that sooner?

She took a few steps towards it, but was stopped by a firm hand grabbing her elbow, "Where do you think you're going?" Edward asked and tightened his hold, forcing her to come to an immediate standstill. "I'm calling the shots here and this conversation isn't over until I say it is."

She blinked twice before scowling and ripping her arm, thankfully her uninjured one, out of his grip. "Funny, two minutes ago you told me there was nothing left to say; that I had messed up beyond any words." This time there was no concealing her frustration.

"Damn you, Isabella!" he cursed loudly, "I've had it with your secrets, your lies and your…your manipulating acts. I'm tired of your games. No more disappearing when things get difficult. No more hiding behind baggy clothes, no more blindfolds and no more no-touching-rules."

The first few words were spoken with harsh undertones, but the last ones came out sounding almost dejected. His anger had ebbed out, only to be replaced with a weariness that probably meant he truly was at the end of what he could take. Bella scanned his face carefully, looking for hints, anything that might help her understand what was going on, but his expression revealed no more of his thoughts than it ever had.

Unless…

His eyes kept darting down her body and then flicking back to her face and something in his stance, made her realize she had perhaps been wrong about her previous assumption.

"You really weren't staring at my ass, where you?" she asked calmly. It was more of a statement than a question. "It's the bump that has you in a tizz."

"Don't start with me," he warned her irritably.

"You don't want to look, but you can't keep your eyes away. Or your hands. I bet your fingers are itching to touch this… this 'thing' I'm growing?" she said making air quotes with her fingers. "Is that it, Edward? You want to touch my belly?" '

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AN: This was part II of the whole baby reveal/confrontation. But it's not over yet stay tuned for part III….