Two days later I pull into the Cullens' driveway for an Esme-stipulated family dinner. When I pointed out to her that I'm not in fact family, the verbal lashing I'd received had been sufficient for me never to question it ever again.
"You're here!" she cries as she runs down the stairs of the porch, wiping her hands on an apron and looking like something out of a TV show set in the fifties. I abruptly realise just how much I missed her in all of her big-haired, southern, June Cleaver glory and when she basically yanks me out of the car to embrace me, I return it just as eagerly. She pushes me back, her hands on my shoulders as she looks me over.
"You're getting awful thin, baby girl," she scolds, even though I look exactly the same as I did two weeks prior. "Come inside and let me feed you."
I follow her inside, being dragged by her arm looped around mine. She sits me down at the kitchen island as she finishes preparing dinner, asking me about 'my daddy' and 'that lovely Alice girl my Jasper seems so fond of,' which makes me giggle a little bit. She behaves as though I've been gone for months, not days, soaking up every small anecdote I offer her as she moves confidently about the kitchen.
Eventually, I excuse myself and make my way through the large house, greeting Carlisle and Emmett, who are in the living room playing a rather intense game judging by the concentration on Emmett's face and the slight panic on Carlisle's. I head up the stairs to pay a quick visit to Jasper, who is immersed in homework, then I continue up to Edward's room. I hesitate in front of the door, because I haven't been here for a while, and the nervousness that abruptly courses through me stops me dead in my tracks.
Don't be a baby.
I knock then push the door open, only to find him changing. I slap my hand over my face reflexively.
"Oh my god, I'm sorry!"
He just laughs.
"Uh... Bella, we've seen each other in some pretty fucked up states. You seeing my shirtless with my jeans undone doesn't particularly bother me."
Abruptly, I feel like a total idiot and pull my hand away from my face just to see him pulling a v-neck shirt on, which he then follows with a navy blue hoodie. I'm slightly transfixed by his appearance, and when he turns to smile playfully at me, I'm at a loss for words.
"Happy now?" he teases, "I've covered my shame."
"Shut up."
"Look, even my wrists are covered."
"...Shut up."
I'm red in the face and one more comment away from hiding my face in his pillow to escape his taunting. He smiles at my pique then reaches for my hand, pulling me with him as he flops down on the bed. I right myself and I end up sitting cross-legged in between his spread ones, our hands linked together loosely between us.
He looks down at our hands then up and my face, his smile softening from it's previous cheeky edge. I know what he's thinking, and I'm thinking it too.
We missed each other.
"Having you in my bed is so much more risque now that you're not living here," he jokes. "I should probably have locked my door."
My face is a mask of fake innocence.
"Why? What are you planning on doing with me?"
His gentle smile darkens as he uses his grip on my hands to pull me towards him until our chests are touching and our mouths follow suit. The outside world fades to black as we make out on his bed, my body on top of his and his hands on my hip, under my shirt, in my hair and every other place that he knows feels so lovely. Mine trail his face, lightly stroking his jawline - a place I've determined to be one of my absolute favourites on him.
When we hear a throat clearing, I jump off the bed like I've been set on fire. I then lose my balance, and end up collapsed in a Bella-sized heap on the floor. Edward looks down at me, and bursts out laughing. I sit up on my knees and scowl at him, only to realise that another person is in the room with us.
Carlisle.
My anger at Edward's mockery dissolves into horror. We're caught.
Carlisle stands in the door for a long moment, looking over the scene before him. Then... he laughs.
"Oh, stop looking so guilty, you two. We've known for ages what's been happening here. Esme just gave the whole 'no pregnancy in the house' speech in the hope that it would at least make you guys not throw anything in our faces. Edward, we've had all the necessary talks, and I assume that Bella, you've had similar ones. Please be respectful of the family and each other, and for the love of god, no babies."
Edward and I stare at him in complete shock as he laughs casually once more.
"Now hurry up, dinner is served."
Dinner is, in a word, wonderful. Esme has put together a remarkable meal - as per usual - and the meal is a constant blur of conversations and laughter. Rosalie has joined us this evening, and talks passionately about her dad teaching her the workings of classic cars, and pushes strands of messy blonde hair that have fallen from her sloppy ponytail out of her face as she gestures. Emmett is transfixed by her, and everyone at the table is smiling softly at her complete lack of awareness.
"And then he showed me this awesome way that you can - Em, why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?"
Edward starts chuckling lowly as Emmett's eyes drop down to his long-emptied plate, mortified at being caught.
"Uh... no."
"Oh," she says, swiping at her cheek anyway, looking almost as embarrassed as he does. They really do make an adorable pair.
After dinner, Edward and I head back upstairs, Esme calling out behind us as we go.
"You leave that door open, now!"
Edward's resulting groan makes me laugh.
"Think that's funny, do you?" he growls, and throws me over his shoulder with almost disconcerting ease. I kick and squeal and struggle until he throws me down on the bed, closes the door firmly and the returns to me, pulling his body up over mine. My arms slide around his shoulders, hands taking their preferred place in his hair and I pull his face down to me.
He responds eagerly to my advance, his tongue twining with my own and his pelvis pressing down, our hip bones touching. My legs wrap around his thighs, holding him to me and aligning our bodies further.
"Jesus, I've missed this," he murmurs, his words cut off by my lips. I hum in agreement but refuse to break contact to actually speak to him. The hand that's not supporting his body weight comes to rest on my waist, sliding slowly under my shirt and up to my ribs.
"Is this ok?"
"Yeah," I breathe, then lean back from him and ungracefully pull my shirt off then push his hoodie off his shoulders. He reaches behind him to pull his own shirt off, and the skin to skin contact only heightens the intensity of our kissing once our lips meet again. My hands trail over the muscles of his back and shoulders, down to his slim waist and back up, revelling in the feel of him under my fingertips.
"Stay the night with me," he says lowly against my mouth and I shake my head, keeping our lips joined as best I can.
"I can't."
"You really can."
Our small argument is muffled by intermittent kisses.
"No, I can't."
He pulls back, looking frustrated.
"It's not like you haven't stayed here before."
I sigh deeply.
"Edward, I'm not going to stay here, it completely defeats the purpose of the whole me-moving-back-home thing."
He sits back, still straddling my knees and pulls his hands through his hair. I feel very exposed all of a sudden and reach down, grabbing at the first piece of clothing I find to cover my chest. His t-shirt.
"Why do you always have to fucking leave me, Bella? Why?"
His voice is almost a groan.
"I'm sorry," I murmur reflexively, hating his pain.
"It almost fucking killed me for you to walk out that door, and then, the first time I get you back in shit knows how long, you're going to do it again. One night, Bella! Why can't you give me one fucking night to be happy without the pain of having to watch you leave me behind?"
I sit up now, abruptly defensive.
"How many times do we have to go over this Edward? I'm getting so tired of having to repeat myself over and over. As much as I love being with you, I'm not going to set both of us back by staying here so we can avoid our problems and undo any of the progress we might have made!"
He climbs off the bed like I've set it on fire, standing at the end of it in what is, honestly, a very intimidating stance. He looms over me and I've never seen him like this, at least not with me.
He laughs sardonically and I just want to melt into the headboard to get away from his derision.
"You want to talk about avoiding, Bella? You want to get on your fucking high horse and judge me because I like having you around? I did every fucking thing anyone asked of me! I did the gym sessions, I even saw the therapist - not one, but two - and you still want to talk to me about avoiding?
"You don't even know why were fucking taken, Bella! How's that for fucking avoiding?"
The sneer in his voice makes me unable to meet his eyes, fearful of the disdain I fear I will find there. Instead, I reach down for my own shirt, quickly replacing it with Edward's on my torso.
"You're being awful, and I want to go home."
"Ha!" he very neary shouts. "Well look here, little miss Lets-Deal-With-Our-Issues-Head-On is running away because she can't handle the truth. God, you are such a fucking hypocrite!"
I fight back the tears his cruel words inspire and try to maintain an even tone.
"We can talk about this once you've calmed down."
"You know when we should have talked about it? Before you fucking left!"
"We did talk."
"No, you fucking talked and forced me to accept what you thought was a good idea, even though it clearly applied to both of us... apparently my opinion on the matter meant jack shit to you."
"That's not fair, Edward."
He laughs again.
"What about this situation is fucking fair, Bella? Please, enlighten me before you do what you always fucking do and run away. Actually, do you know what? I'll save you the fucking trouble... you can see what it's like to be left behind for a change."
He grabs the shirt I'd just discarded, pulls it on and walks out the bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind him. I jump at the sound, pushed over the edge by the violent action, and then burst into tears.
I pull my knees up to my chest in what Garrett would probably describe as one of my defensive mechanisms, but being in a little ball makes me feel slightly better, even though I feel no less isolated. When Edward's bedroom door opens, I don't look up, because I know already that it's not him. The bed shifts under the weight of a person and I smell Esme's floral perfume just a moment before her arm wraps around my shoulder. I lean into her as I cry it out, letting her stroke my hair and sooth me, even though it does little to help.
"Hush now," she murmurs. "Don't let that silly boy of mine make you so sad. He's just hurting and he misses you like crazy, and it makes him say and do things he doesn't mean. He loves you, I just know it and he'll feel royally awful after he calms his stuborn self down."
I nod a little into her shoulder, even though I'm not sure I believe her words.
"Would you like me to take you home, sweets?"
I nod again.
"Alright, I'll drive your car and Carlisle will come get me once you're safe and sound."
She bundles me into the car and we drive home listening to a radio station that she's selected and is playing gentle, swaying country music. Even though I'm not a huge fan of the genre, something about it does help to calm me, and by the time we reach the house, she has to help me inside because exhaustion has settled into every fibre of my being.
"I'm sleepy," I moan as she drags me up the stairs.
"I know you are, sweet."
"Please don't let him hate me," I plead, my voice slightly garbled when she places me on the bed and pulls off my shoes. I feel my familiar sheets being draped over my still-clothed form and can't help but relax into them a little bit.
"He couldn't if he tried."
"How do you know that?"
"I'm his momma, that's how. Now get some rest, I'll be downstairs talking with Charlie for a spell if you need anything, then I'm going to go home. Sleep tight, darling."
She kisses my forehead and exits the room, leaving the door slightly ajar as if I'm a young child. I very much appreciate the gesture, even if it is a little unnecessary and my last thoughts of the evening are about the kind southern woman who has become a mother to me.
And that tomorrow, I need to talk to Charlie, because I refuse to avoid anymore.