AN: thanks for all your support for this story--the amount of it has kind of blown Tami and I away, and we love you guys!!

This chapter is written by moi, bethaboo.

EPOV

"Edward, what the hell was that?"

I heard Carlisle even through the water in the cooldown pool, his voice a lot louder than normal. I wondered idly how long I could hold my breath and avoid this confrontation, since I knew he had more than one reason to be angry.

Likely, he was pissed that I'd broken the record by so much. Honestly, I hadn't even thought I was on world record pace—I'd just been so happy to finally be swimming, with Bella watching, and I'd slipped into a groove, barely thinking as my arms powerfully cut through the water.

When the race ended, I'd thrown my head up through the water, knowing I'd won, but entirely in the dark as to my time.

Typically, as always, there was a huge surge of cheering applause, and though it seemed pretty loud to me, I didn't realize why until I noticed the time and the little "WR" next to the numbers. Shit. I'd broken the world record. Again. Carlisle was not going to be happy.

Pushing off with a little flipper kick, I reached the surface and felt the weight of his glare even from across the room. To my surprise, the room had emptied out of all the various hangers-on, trainers, and coaches that were typically present after a competitive swim.

Of course, this hadn't really been a competitive swim for me. Technically, yes, it was, but the 400 IM was one of my best events and nobody was going to even touch me in the prelims. Carlisle had emphasized that my approach was supposed to be laidback and cautious. Under no circumstances was I to be aggressive or swim my hardest, even if it looked like I might get second in the heat. All I needed was to continue making it through the heats to the final, where I would pull out all the stops.

Unfortunately, it seemed to Carlisle that I'd done exactly that, only in the preliminary heat. I'd have to heft myself out of the pool and explain to him that swimming that fast had seemed as natural as breathing.

I crossed the large pool in a matter of seconds and easily lifted myself out of the water.

Carlisle was standing a few feet back from the pool's edge, his arms crossed over his broad chest. I hadn't exactly loved him glaring at me, but his expressionless face seemed even worse.

"What's up?" I asked, even though I knew exactly what was bothering him. He thought I'd purposefully disregarded his instructions and his coaching.

"What's up? I'll tell you what's up, Edward, that little macho display you just put on. There was no need to bust the record that way."

I shrugged, hoping that my nonchalance would convince him that I'd had no intention of breaking the record, and that this would diffuse the situation.

"I didn't realize how fast I was swimming." Right as the words came out of my mouth, I wanted to drag them back. The best way to raise Carlisle's ire was to admit that you weren't aware of your body and your opponents and everyone's position relative to the pool during a competitive swim. And I'd just walked right into it.

"You what?" Carlisle's expression grew positively fierce as he nearly spit the words out.

I shifted my weight nervously from foot to foot, feeling twelve years old again and unable to look my coach and father in the face because I'd made a tactical error while racing boys three years older than I was.

"I knew I was winning," I shot back. "I didn't feel tired. So I swam like I felt like."

"You're not here," Carlisle seethed, "to swim the way you 'feel like.' You're here to win."

His annoyed and patronizing tone seemed to light a small bonfire that had been slowly building, one piece of wood at a time, for as long as I could remember.

"And I won!" I finally yelled at him, "I fucking won the race. What more do you want from me?"

Further sending me down my enraged path was the exaggerated calm Carlisle exuded. I wanted him to be angry too, and yelling louder than I was. Resentment bubbling inside of me, I wanted him to lose that famous self-control he had so much pride in.

"Edward," Carlisle replied, more patronizingly than I probably deserved, "you have twelve more races. This means pacing yourself and not burning out by the last race."

"I feel great," I sulked.

"Which is surprising considering the fact that when I called you at 9 PM last night, you didn't answer your phone."

Damn it. I'd been with Bella, at dinner. I'd turned it off because I knew he'd call and check on me and I hadn't wanted a single second of our time together interrupted or even worse, wasted. Every moment, every smile, every brush her hand on mine, was meant to be savored and enjoyed.

I took an inward deep breath and tried to ignore the way my conscious was screaming at me. "I was in the bathroom."

"Ah," Carlisle replied, a knowing look on his face. I could tell he thought I was lying, which didn't surprise me in the least. I'd never even had a reason to lie to them before, thus my great inability to actually commit the crime with aplomb, when it came down to it.

To my surprise, Carlisle turned to go. I breathed a sigh of relief, but before I could really relax, he threw over his shoulder, "Go finish warming down and then we need to talk about some . . .developments with the press."

My stomach sank to my bare feet. He knew about Bella. He knew I'd been to dinner with her, and from the tone of his voice he was exceedingly displeased.

That doesn't matter, I told myself, you're going to see Bella again. You have to see her again. No matter what Carlisle says or threatens you with.

I straightened my back and my resolve, as I dove back into the pool. Nothing Carlisle could say would keep me from her now that I thought she might feel a fraction of what I felt for her.

As I swam my cooldown laps, I couldn't help but think about Bella. She filled my thoughts until I felt like I was drowning in her.

I'd dated before, but the relationships, though they could hardly even be termed that, ended almost before they began. No woman wanted to take third fiddle behind swimming and my parents, and I had never felt feelings strong enough to even consider switching around my priorities to please someone else. Maybe this was why Bella had hit me like a hurricane, throwing me into an intense whirlwind of self-doubt, attraction and need.

The winds of change were swirling around me, and it wasn't just because I was determined to alter my way of life after Beijing. Last night I'd known the moment I'd grasped her hand that I could never let Bella go. Somehow, she had to be the woman I'd always envisioned being with after my competitive swimming days slowed down.

I couldn't deny that the timing could have been a little better, but last night, as I'd tossed and turned, wishing she was with me still, I'd decided that the timing didn't matter. I would defy Carlisle and his many rules if I had to. And I liked the idea of her watching me swim here.

Feeling rejuvenated and refreshed by my leisurely cooldown swim, I headed off to the trainers room for a quick massage before finding Carlisle and seeing how much he knew about Bella and I.

I'd had a million massages in my lifetime, but ever since meeting Bella, all I could think of was her while I was lying facedown on the table, and how much I wished that the small capable hands manipulating my muscles were hers. Now, after knowing how soft her skin was, and how completely touchable she was, the fantasies were gnawing at me with a new hunger.

Women had always been easy for me, not that I had ever had much time to enjoy them. Bella, on the other hand, felt like a challenge, something that would be worth winning, with her kind intelligence and her warm smile. You knew, deep down, when you met her that she would be honest and trustworthy, that she would never backstab or betray you. In this environment, that kind of trust was rare and unique, like a diamond framed in gold.

The masseuse finished up, and when I glanced up, I was again struck by disappointment not to see a pair of warm brown eyes glowing down at me. You are really losing it, I told myself, losing it in a big way. You've got to get it together for Carlisle so you can hold your ground.

Wrapping a towel around myself, I headed back to the locker room to shower and throw on my warm-ups.

Finally emerging, and not even feeling the slightest bit tired, I sauntered into the lounge, and over to Tyler, who was totally stretched out, with his eyes closed. Noting the earbuds he had in, I poked him hard in the arm.

He gave no outward indication that he'd felt my finger poke him, but I knew better than that. I did it again, only harder this time, and this time, he reached up and pulled the earbuds out, but he refused to open his eyes.

"What do you want, Cullen?"

"Have you seen Carlisle?"

Tyler lazily jabbed his finger back toward the conference room that the US team used for all it's meetings. Great. Fantastic. He had to go make it all official, didn't he, I thought to myself resentfully.

Not even bothering to thank Tyler, I stormed up to the glass door and barged right in.

Glancing around, I stopped in my tracks. Esme being present, I could understand, since Carlisle knew she was a good facilitator between him and I; if anyone could keep things from escalating too much, it would be her. But why on earth was Rob here? Carlisle, for all his shortcomings, did like to keep our family business private, and I couldn't imagine him chastising me for going to dinner with Bella in front of Rob. I began to breathe just a touch easier, the thought snaking its way through my mind that perhaps this wasn't about Bella after all.

I still hadn't forgiven him for that horrid Jessica Rabbitt debacle, and when his eyes met mine in greeting, I gave him the strongest glare I could muster. There was no way I was going to let him off easy after the way I'd had to spend most of yesterday.

"Edward," Esme said, giving me a quick hug, "congratulations on your world record." I inwardly winced, waiting for Carlisle to start harping on that again, but he didn't say a word.

Once Esme stepped away, I could see that Carlisle frown was growing, but before he could explode at me, Rob cut in, further endangering his own life.

"Edward, we're meeting today to discuss your press coverage. Why don't you take a seat and we'll get started." Rob was acting like he was in charge of the meeting, which made no sense if this was all about Bella. Thus, I concluded, she's still a secret. Thank goodness.

I sat down on the other side from Esme and Carlisle. Even if this wasn't about Bella, I had a feeling I wasn't going to like it much.

"We have a problem with the press," Rob announced next, as soon as I was seated.

At the mere mention of the press, my ears perked up.

"A big problem," Carlisle added, his eyebrows slamming together, a dire expression on his face.

"So what is it?" I asked nonchalantly, completely unconcerned and not intending to become concerned—it was an amazing day and I was going to keep it that way.

Esme sighed, the sound barely audible in the room, and all of Rob and Carlisle's foreboding pronouncements couldn't produce the effect that her one small sound did. I knew that when Esme sounded dismayed, something was truly wrong.

"What?" I had to ask again, since nobody seemed to want to take the job of telling me.

Finally, Rob ran a hand through his hair, and spoke up. "From both the interviews you gave yesterday, Edward, and a few that you did before we flew over from the States, it looks as if the press is beginning to think you're a bit. . .reserved."

Before I could ask what Rob meant by 'reserved,' Carlisle's harsher than necessary voice added itself to the equation.

"What Rob means to say is that you've alienated the press by being too quiet and too cautious."

Esme sighed again and I felt my brain near an explosion point. How much shit was I going to be subjected to today?

At least, I told myself, they've elected to keep any shit regarding Bella out of this.

"I don't understand," I said, honestly not getting what the whole issue was. Of course I didn't share myself with the press. It seemed incredibly ludicrous that they assumed I would.

"Some of the reporters are calling you stuck up and rude. They're writing about it, even, and your reputation is taking a serious blow."

"I can't believe this," I said bitterly, "why would anyone do that? I wasn't rude or cruel to them. I just didn't tell them everything about me.

"Correction," Carlisle replied with a stern expression, "you didn't tell them anything."

Ready. Set. Burn.

I jumped to my feet, the chair slamming backwards into the wall. Resting my palms on the table, I stared my father straight in the eye.

"I answered every damn question they asked me."

Suddenly Carlisle was also on his feet, and I met his flashing eyes with more than a little trepidation. Sometimes I felt that the jewel-bright green tint of my eyes and the ability to swim faster than anyone else were the only things my dad had ever given me.

"Technically yes, but you weren't cooperative. You were purposefully short with your answers."

"Of course I was," I yelled, unable to keep my voice or my temper down anymore, "I want to keep my private life private."

"Guess what," Carlisle roared into the silence, "you can't. You're a famous celebrity. You knew what you were signing up for when you decided to swim competitively in this kind of environment. I told you, so many times, and I warned you that the invasiveness might bother you. But you didn't care. All you thought about was the gold medals and the glory."

Resentment bubbled up from inside of me, a hot tar that seemed to burn everything it touched.

"I've done every single damn thing you've ever asked. Nobody can force me to do this." I crossed my arms over my chest, planted my feet, and prepared to hold out against both Carlisle and Rob.

"You want to look bad? Fine. Your choice. But then don't be surprised at the backlash when you come back to America with your load of medals. Nobody is going to want to applaud a snotty brat."

Esme stood up and her calm, sweet voice echoed through the room. "Carlisle, Edward, we all need to take a deep breath, I think." I could still hear the faint Georgia accent from her childhood reflected in her tone and it was immeasurably soothing. My anger was wilting, and I could see the reflection in Carlisle's body language.

"That's a splendid idea," Rob added, sending her one of his charming smiles.

"A solution," she continued, "is really what we need. Something that would improve Edward's standing despite the negative press, without making him feel intruded upon."

"Of course. . ." Carlisle started, but shut down at one look from his wife.

"Edward must be okay with this solution. It's his life, after all, but I think the situation calls for a compromise. How would you feel about one single reporter, Edward?"

"One reporter?" I asked hesitantly. I didn't feel good about any reporters, but I supposed I could at least hear the idea out. Of course, nobody had to know that I'd already tuned them all out, and was thinking about how thick and shiny Bella's hair was, and how good it would feel sliding across my. . .

"That's it," Carlisle crowed, catching on to where Esme was going. He exchanged a quick look with Rob, and continued. I cursed them all for interrupting my daydream. "We give one reporter an exclusive. Let them follow Edward around during the next week and a half—then they can write some fantastically positive article about his success."

I couldn't even express how much I hated being talked about while being present. Of course, after the dozens of meetings I'd been to during the last few years, I should be used to it by now, but I wasn't. It seemed as if everything I'd slowly become accustomed to was suddenly overwhelmingly frustrating, and my no-longer dulled reactions were all due to one brown-haired reporter.

The idea hit me like a mallet to the face. Bella was a reporter. Carlisle and Rob wanted a reporter to follow me around for the next week and a half. I would have unfettered and unchallenged access to her beautiful person. We could talk all the time. Otherwise, I knew I'd be spending all my time circumventing Carlisle and his stupid rules.

"I think this is a great idea," I announced, and was greeted with surprised silence. No doubt they all thought they'd have to talk me into the plan. However, they clearly had never met Bella Swan. Or held her hand, I thought to myself, letting my mind drift again to how soft and smooth and beautiful her skin had felt under mine. And that was just her hand.

"You do?" Carlisle asked, a frown forming, as he clearly tried to figure out why it was that I was so eager to spend time with the press when only five minutes before I'd indicated that I couldn't stand reporters of any kind.

"Yes," I nodded, "and I know exactly who it is that I want shadowing me."

Rob's face took on an extraordinarily excited expression, and I knew who he thought I was going to pick, and what kind of bonuses would be available to him after I did. I almost felt sorry for him in that fleeting instant, because I was beginning to understand how it felt to have your sun rise and set around a woman, but the sympathy couldn't quite develop due to his unfortunate choice in females.

"So," Esme asked with a smile on her face, "who is it? Have we met them?"

"No, not exactly," I stalled, suddenly afraid that I'd be exposing me and my predilection for certain company with my words.

Carlisle raised one eyebrow in question and any further delay was impossible. I had to tell them and be prepared for the resistance I'd face. Bella had confided she was not from a major newspaper, but still, from the largest newspaper in Oregon. I wondered if that would be enough for Carlisle and Rob. I wasn't holding my breath though. They were notoriously difficult to please individually, and as a pair, they were even worse.

"Her name is Isabella Swan and she writes for the Oregonian newspaper."

There was a few seconds of shock and confusion on everyone's face as they searched their minds for a memory of such a person.

Rob was the only who got it, and he looked decidedly annoyed. "You mean the girl that Alice Hale added last minute?" he questioned.

"Yes."

"I've never heard of this newspaper," Carlisle asked sternly. "It's not a major daily newspaper. We want something that will be read and with some serious circulation. Where is it? In Oregon?"

"The biggest newspaper in Oregon," I said proudly, "and it's read in Vancouver too." I was nearly quoting Bella here, but I figured it was all for a good cause.

"Vancouver BC?" Esme asked with a frown.

"No, Vancouver, Washington." Everyone's expressions told me what they thought of that, and I wasn't sure I disagreed, but my heart and my mind were committed to seeing this through now and I wasn't about to back down.

"That isn't going to work," Carlisle said flatly.

"I won't do it if we ask anyone else."

"What about Jessica Rabbitt?" Rob asked with a smidgen of hope left in his voice.

"Absolutely no way. I don't want her within forty feet of me ever again." I tried to pack as much convincing attitude into that statement and my body language, knowing I'd need it.

"She works for US Weekly," Rob countered, "that circulates a lot more widely than the freaking Oregonian, or whatever it's called."

"I don't care," I said stubbornly. "It's Bella or nobody. I trust her, and I don't usually trust members of the press."

"You never do," Esme mumbled happily, a smile creeping across her face. I had a feeling she knew exactly what this was all about, but I'd long passed the point of caring. All I wanted was Bella beside me.

Carlisle sighed and ran his hand through his hair in a gesture that was so similar to mine that I felt a sense of déjà vu. "Fine," he agreed, "but after the article is written, I think we should encourage her editors to run it in other newspapers. Syndicate it."

"I'm sure that they'd be eager to pick it up," I said with so much happiness in my voice I was afraid they'd sense it and change their minds.

"I guess I should be grateful you agreed at all," Carlisle mused, and I couldn't say I blamed him.

Not only did I feel the thrill of spending so much time in the future with Bella, but for the first time in as long as I could remember, I'd stood up to my dad and told him how I felt and made sure it mattered. Nothing had ever felt so good. I felt vindicated for all those years I'd spent in selfless slavery.

"I'll make the arrangements then," Rob added, voice full of defeat.

"Actually," I broke in, "I'd like to call her and tell her myself, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Carlisle said, a bit of a knowing look in his eye. He, like Esme, had clearly figured out my preference for Bella. But that was okay, as long as I'd won. "Let's all meet back here at 7 PM, if Miss Swan is available."

"Excellent," Rob said, clearly thinking that this whole plan was anything but.

"Great," I headed toward the door, "I'll see you guys then."

The door swung closed behind me and I couldn't prevent a quick fist pump of victory as I made my way to the shuttle stop outside the Water Cube.