Esme bends over the low edge of what can only be described as the pen that has been built in the backyard. She picks something up and walks over, cradling it in her arms. A tiny little head rises from the golden-haired mass, looking around curiously with large, almost black eyes and floppy ears.
"This," she says with a doting smile, "is Checker. He's for you, Bella."
Edward and I look on, completely at a loss.
"A puppy?" he asks, and his tone of voice matches my current feeling.
Esme walks over to me and extends her arms, presenting the small creature to me. I pull my hand from Edward's and accept him without thinking, because he's tiny and if I'm being honest, absolutely adorable. I hold him up to my face, trying to wrap my head around this and look at him. He sniffs hesitantly and then licks my cheek, illiciting laughter from Esme as I pull back, surprised.
"I don't understand," I murmur, still fixated on the tiny creature in my arms. Using my pinky finger, I lift his front leg by his foot, laughing quietly when Checker looks at me, apparently affronted by my behaviour.
"The poor mite and his siblings were abandoned, and he needs someone to take care of him and make sure he's safe. We thought you would be a perfect candidate."
"...And I have to go to the gym and get the shit beaten out of me by some friend of Dr Douchebag?" Edward asks, disgust in his tone. I giggle quietly and he shoots me a playful glare then extends a few fingertips to rub Checker's tiny head. His body shakes slightly in my hands, and he's obviously overwhelmed by all the attention and his new surroundings.
I understand the feeling.
I step over the low fence of his pen and sit down on the floor, then spread my legs before me and place him on the grass in between them. He instinctively curls in on himself, then looks around, sniffing at the air before he unfolds his body and sits upright, facing me. He tilts his head to the side curiously, and I mimick him, trying not to laugh for fear it might frighten him.
"Hello baby," I coo gently, and am rewarded with the sound of his little tail slapping against the grass as it wags behind him. Edward climbs into the pen and sits beside me, his eyes fixed on what is apparently a form of therapy for me. He puts his hand down on the grass beside the puppy, waggling his fingers at him, taunting. Checker pounces, trying to nip at them as Edward evades his eager mouth and the sharp teeth within.
I lean my head against Edward's shoulder, trying to fathom how all the suffering, all the pain and trauma, somehow led me to this moment.
"I can't believe this all," Edward murmurs, his attention fixed on the little animal chasing his hand around. I tense, irrationally concerned that he's somehow figured out how to read my mind.
"What do you mean?" I ask nervously.
"I've been asking for a fucking puppy since I was six fucking years old, and mom always said no, and yet you get one. I swear, she likes you better than me." The playful discontentment in his voice makes me laugh lowly.
"Can you blame her?" I ask, injecting as much arrogance into my tone as I can. He leans back and looks at me. His gaze feels heavy, as though it's pinning me into stillness. I'm hynotized.
"I can't say I do," he says and leans in slowly, pressing his lips to mine. The profound contentment seeps through my veins the moment he touches me as it always does. I feel my body relaxing, a tenseness I wasnt even aware of leaving me. When he pulls away, I roll my eyes to cover the fact that I'm completely besotted with him.
"You are a giant, living cliche," I chide, but I don't mean it at all.
"You love it," he states, completely self-assured and then looks back down at Checker, picking up his game once more.
"He's a chubby little thing, isn't he?" Edward muses, then chuckles. "Chubby Checker. How fitting." The puppy perks up slightly, noticing that Edward is no longer participating in the game.
"Do you like that, huh?" Edward asks, his voice lilting. "I'll call you Chubby then."
I glare at him, affronted.
"You will do no such thing!" I chastise him. He laughs and ignores me, going back to his game. I roll my eyes but can't keep the smile off my face as I watch them play together, wondering how the hell I ended up here.
I'm pinning back my hair the next morning when Edward strides into the bathroom, dressed in gym gear for his first session with his trainer. I force myself not to get caught up in how good he looks, because I'm having lunch with Esme and picking up some supplies for Checker and don't want to be burdened with inappropriate thoughts. We'll only be apart for about two and a half hours, but I'm dreading it. I deduce from his loitering that he is equally hesitant.
"You don't have to hang out with her if you don't want to," he tells me for what feels like the hundredth time, and I roll my eyes without looking away from my reflection.
"Edward, I want to hang out with her," I repeat yet again, "and regardless, you're at the gym today, so it's not like I have any better offers."
I look over my shoulder at him grimacing at the mention of his session.
"Don't remind me," he grumbles, and I laugh, turn around and lean against the bathroom counter.
"Don't whine," I chide him gently, "and anyway, chicks dig muscles." I wink salaciously and he laughs but pushes off the wall, crossing the room and placing his hands on the counter on either side of my hips.
"I'm not sure I like what you're implying," he says lowly, then leans down to nip gently at my neck. He kisses the spot a second after, soothing it, and making my laugh stutter slightly. He looks up at me from his position, his dark eyelashes framing his eyes in the most appealing way.
"Are you saying that you'd like me better if I was all muscled out?" he questions. I shrug, trying to look innocent, but I'm sure he knows I'm teasing.
"You're going to give a guy self-esteem issues," he states, and I can no longer hold back my giggles. I wind my arms around his neck and hug him to me for a moment as I subdue my laughter, then pull back to take in his pouting face.
"You're perfectly dreamy just how you are," I tell him then kiss him gently. He pulls back, looking affronted.
"Dreamy?" he scoffs. "Fuck dreamy, I want rugged and masculine." He moves his hands to the backs of my thighs and effortlessly lifts me onto the counter. I squeal, completely surprised and he buries his face in my neck, scratching me gently with his slight stubble.
"Oh, you're so brutish and manly!" I cry dramatically, sliding my fingers into his hair and giggling the whole time.
"Much better," he mutters then attaches his lips to mine. This kiss has something more to it than most of our kisses, an extra layer, something darker and heady and appealing in an entirely different way. I throw myself into it, using my grip on his head to pull him closer then wrapping my legs around his and pulling his entire body in line with my own.
A low groan leaves him and his hands wrap around the top of my thighs. He pushes them slightly further apart and shifts my butt to the very edge of the counter, allowing him to move even closer. My skirt has ridden up to near my waist, but it barely catches my attention as his tongue slides into my mouth, coaxing my own into action.
He invades each of my senses one by one, until I feel like I'm drowning in him. Normally he's so careful with me, but this new sense of abandon is thrilling and I want to explore it. I move my hands from his hair to his shoulders, scratching across them with my short fingernails. His kisses increase in intensity and his hips shift against my own as his fingers tighten around my thighs.
A strange, deep moan rumbles from my chest, and I'm surprised that I'm capable of making such a noise. I feel his fingers flex on my skin, and then the pinky and ring finger shift upwards, capturing all the attention I can spare from kissing Edward. His other fingers follow and I struggle to focus on anything else. They edge up slowly, the movements probably near invisible to the naked eye, but I can feel them like his hand is conducting an electric current.
I welcome the feeling entirely, and feel the speed in my heartrate and breathing as he starts us towards unchartered territory. His fingers reach the significantly raised hem of my skirt and slide underneath it. His movements are tentative, because we've never done anything like this before and neither of us know what's going to happen if we continue.
My focus is everywhere at once: his mouth on mine, his hands on my legs, the surge of emotions rushing through me. The clarity he normally gives me seems to be rapidly dissolving as so many other feelings come to the forefront. Want, fear, trust, insecurity, more want.
I pull my face from his, hoping that a bit of oxygen will help me to organise my thoughts, and his face moves along my jaw and down my throat, kissing and licking and sucking and it's all too much.
"Edward," I say, but my jagged breathing distorts the word.
"Hmm," he murmurs against my skin, his mouth unrelenting as he continues a trail acros my collar bone. I place my hands on his shoulders and try to push him back slightly, but he just groans lowly at the feel of my fingernails digging into his skin. This is moving too fast, and I need everything to slow down.
"Stop," I say, a little too loud, and he snaps back from me when he hears the distress in my voice. As soon as he steps away, I realise I've made a mistake. He looks hurt, but unsurprised, and strangely guilty.
"Fuck, I'm sorry," he mutters quickly, raking a hand through his hair. "I shouldn't have done that shit, I knew it was a bad idea. I'm such an asshole."
I want to pull him back to me, to reassure him that it's no fault of his that I can't even physically show him what he means to me, and how much I want him.
"No," I try to argue, but he won't listen. He won't even meet my eyes. When he hears my voice, he takes another step back, and my stomach clenchs at the sight of my scaring him away. My eyes sting with tears at the self-loathing on his face, knowing that I did this to him.
"Please," I beg, "it wasn't you. I just... I don't - it wasn't you. I'm sorry."
"Don't fucking apologise," he spits and I flinch back slightly at the hardness in his voice, something that's never been directed at me before. What feels like an eternity passes between us, and just when I feel like another second will drive me insane, he walks back towards me. I reach out a hand to him, but he doesn't take it. Without saying a word, he pulls my skirt back down to a more respectable level and then steps back again.
"I'm so sorry." Wit that, he walks out of the bathroom. I drop my face into my hands and try to stop the need to cry like a little girl from overwhelming me completely. It takes me a few minutes, but eventually, I slide off the edge of the counter, fix my face and hair, then go downstairs. On my way down, I pray that my ability to compartmentalise things in my mind doesn't fail me now.
I find Esme sitting outside at a small table with Checker in her lap, petting him absently while she flips through what looks like a gardening magazine. She has her hair in a low twist and sunglasses on, and seems like she's a living photograph. She looks up at her own garden contemplatively, then back down at the page as she reads, like she's imagining implementing the ideas she's reading about. I clear my throat and she jumps a little, laughing sheepishly.
"Oh! You scared me, sweet! You're gonna make my hair go grey, sneaking around like that!"
I laugh gently and my eyes flicker down to the puppy in her lap. She gestures to him with one perfectly manicured hand, an invitation, so I pick him up and sit opposite her, placing him down in my lap much as she had before. He looks nervous, but eventually settles. I gently run my fingers over his velvety ears and down his neck, scratching his back with a light touch in an attempt to calm him.
"So, my dear," Esme starts, closing her magazine and focusing on me, "what would you like to do today?"
"I don't mind," I say, trying to keep my eyes focused on Checker rather than her questioning gaze. I feel like she can somehow tell what happened this morning, or at least feel my rather morose state.
"Alright, I'll make the plans but," she says slyly, "you need to shake off this sour mood you're all wrapped up in. I know you don't like being away from my lovely boy, but it's only a couple of hours, and it's good for you." I look up, expecting to see irritation on her face, but she's smiling playfully. She winks and I relax a bit, feeling my affection for this slightly strange woman grow even more.
Three hours later, we return to the house, carrying almost every product that a dog could ever need, and many that it couldn't. Edward's car is in the driveway, so I know he's home, but I chicken out and spend the better part of the next hour playing with Checker and indulging Esme's desire to try on some of the outfits she bought him.
When Checker sulks away, obviously sick of the fashion parade, I realise that I have no more reason, however flimsy, to avoid Edward any longer. I gather my resolve and drag my body up the stairs, feeling suddenly tired. It's as though every fibre of my being wants to put this off.
I'm distracted by the sound of soft music floating from Carlisle's office. I walk to the door, and then hesitate, not entirely sure if I can do this, especially on my own. I take a deep, steadying breath, comb my fingers through my hair and square my shoulders before knocking on the already half-open door.
"Come on in," I hear Carlisle's voice and push the door open the remainder of the way. He smiles at me and it reminds me so much of his son. He gestures to the seat before his desk and closes the large book he's reading.
"Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt," I mumble, embarrassed and nervous and regretting coming in here entirely.
"Not at all," he dismisses with a casual wave of his hand. "Something on your mind, Bella?"
"No," I respond reflexively. His expression exudes patience, as though he can tell that I'm struggling with this. I sigh. "Alright, yes."
"I suspected as much," he says with a soft chuckle.
I take another deep breath, trying to convince myself that I can do this. I wish Edward was with me, but force myself to remember that I'm doing this for him, and the thought drives me to speak.
"Carlisle, I'd like to meet with Dr Reynolds again, please."
A smile lights his face, and then turns contemplative, almost reluctant.
"I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that, Bella. That said, Edward has made it quite clear to me that he isn't ready to return to Garrett's, at least not yet. This is why we've looked into the alternate therapies for you. As much as I commend your bravery, I have to make sure you know that you will be doing this on your own, at least until he's ready."
I'm doing this for him. I'm doing this for him. I'm doing this for him.
"I know," I say softly, trying to disguise my fear. Carlisle's smile is sympathetic, and I think he sees right through me.
"Alright, I'll make the call for you," he concludes. I nod, attempt to smile at him and walk to the door.
"Bella?" he calls gently, and I turn. "I know you're scared, but what you're doing here, trying to move forward with your life, it's... well, I'm proud of you. I'm sure Charlie will be too."
I smile at Edward's father, more genuinely this time, and leave his office, heading back to Edward's and my rooms. When I enter, I see him lying on our bed, listening to his iPod. His eyes are closed, his foot moving to the beat of whatever he's listening to. He looks so peaceful, I contemplate leaving the room and letting him be. However, before I can, he opens his eyes and sees me. I wonder if he could sense me here, because I'm not sure how he knew. He removes one of his ear buds and pushes his torso against the bed frame so he's sitting upright.
"Hey," he says lowly, and all the confidence Carlisle's words had given me dissolves.
"Hi," I mumble, feeling unbearably awkward and rooted to the spot. Edward flicks his eyes to the bed then back to me, an invitation that despite my nerves, I cannot refuse. I sit on the bed, and hesitate, not sure if I should go near him after this morning's insanity. After a moment, I gather my resolve and tuck myself into his side. For a moment, he seems surprised, but then wraps his arm around my shoulders. I bury my face into his neck, inhaling him and wishing that none of it had ever happened.
I feel his chin on the top of my head and reach for his free hand, clasping it between mine. Feeling completely safe wrapped up in his calming presence, I start to unwind after what has been a truly terrible day. The stress, panic and insecurity fall dormant and despite all the madness that has plagued me, I get back a little of the normality that is now so foreign.
I can't undo it all, but I can try to fix whatever it was that caused it. I need to get better, not just for him, but for me.
For us.
AN: A gigantic thank you and smooch to the ladies of Twi FanFic Addicts, particularly BittenInCA, who said groingrabbingly amazing things about this story on one of their webisodes. Go check out their website, it's awesome, and listen to the lovely things they say about me, because i'm narcissistic like that.
In the interest of paying it forward, here's a rec for you guys:
Love Comes Last by itsyblue1214 is absolutely OWNING me at the moment. Basically, Bella marries Edward so he can claim his birthright, despite being completely in love with him and knowing he doesn't love her back. Heartfail aplenty, written in an absolutely breathtaking way.
Get on it, leave her some love, because her story doesn't have nearly enough of it. I don't know the girl, but she is talented as all fuck, and I can't rec this story strongly enough.
Love and sneaky gropes for all, catch you next week 3