Twilight and all recognizable characters belong to SM. this little plot belongs to RA.
rated M; not beta'd.
dedicated to Nic, the one and only fic whisperer.
this ficlet will be divided into three chapters because FFnet.
Yawning, I pour a cup of decaf for myself. I wish desperately that it was regular coffee, but since I shouldn't have caffeine, the ritual alone will have carry me over. A shout from the backyard grabs my attention, and I peer out the window above the kitchen sink to where Edward and Charlie are goofing around. The morning sky sits heavy and low, weighed down by gloomy grey cloud cover, but that doesn't stop Edward. Nothing does. Rain or shine, freezing cold or sweltering hot, he trains.
Nothing stops Charlie, either. She loves training, but she especially loves playing with Edward. She's at his side now, trying desperately to keep up as he skips rope. Actually she's pretty great at skipping rope - it's when he starts the fancy footwork she forgets to pay attention to her own feet and ends up on her behind. They do this most weekends, when he's in town and she's out of school.
She's giggling uncontrollably now, flopping to the grass in a tangle of jump-rope. Edward shakes his head, giving her a little tickle before returning to his training. He gets a rhythm going, skipping for about five minutes straight before stopping. Then, tossing the rope aside, he turns his attention to a nearby soccer ball. Charlie mimics him, grabbing another ball for herself, running after him as he kicks and volleys. He's training; she's playing. It works.
I sigh through my coffee steam because it's a cute scene. And because Edward looks good out there. He looks so good.
And then he takes his sweaty shirt off and he looks so good I ache.
My chest aches, because the way I love him is not like I have ever loved anyone else. It's a sweet kind of pain, kept on tenterhooks by his frequent travels. Our hearts are forever growing fonder because bouts of absence are our norm.
I ache in other places too, secret, private places that need Edward's attention. He got in late last night, and, knowing that sleep is a precious commodity for us both thanks to babies and ballgames, didn't wake me up. I appreciate that. But now…now I want something other than sleep.
With a breathy little whimper, the crying starts. Not mine - the baby's. Great; now my breasts ache, too. A second, huskier wail joins in - because God forbid Isla do anything without Finn adding his two cents. Cringing at the interruption of my stolen morning moment, I drop my spoon into the sink, give Edward one last longing glance, and hurry to the appease the tiniest members of our family.
This is parenthood. How quickly I'd forgotten now that Charlie's the ripe old age of six.
I'm on the oversized couch we keep in the nursery for moments like this, a baby on each breast, when Edward and Charlie pass by. Chuck keeps on going, but Edward pops back into view, a sharp smirk tugging at his mouth as he takes in the scene.
"Don't say it," I laugh quietly, shaking my head. He thinks the "football" hold is hilarious, and it kind of is, but it's the only way tandem feeding works for me. I've got it down now, too, so it's easy even if it is kind of funny.
"I'm not." He grins, coming closer, and my heart skips. I've missed him so badly, missed the way he looks at me. Bracing his arms on the couch, he leans down and kisses me. He smells like clean sweat, freshly cut grass, and maple syrup.
"How was it?" I ask, referring to his latest game. Charlie and I watched, of course, like we always do, so we saw his team win by a very slight margin.
"Good game. Intense." He straightens, cocking his head. "You watched, right?"
As if I'd ever miss any of his games. I love that it matters to him, that I matter. "I told you we did. Silly."
"Just making sure…I know it bores you sometimes." He winks, swiping a kiss across my cheek.
"It's not boring watching you," I assure him.
Isla shifts, waving her little fist around. Edward leans down, prying her fingers apart so that she can grip one of his. "I do miss having you there…"
"I know. Me too." Swallowing back the surge of emotion, and maybe hormones, I nod. Since the twins were born, I haven't been able to attend the games. The babies are still really little, so it's a bit much. I look forward to the day I can pack everyone up and resume some semblance of what Edward, Charlie and I used to have, but that's not going to happen for awhile.
It's been awhile since I was out of commission for so long. Emmett hired someone to replace me in our catering business seven months into my pregnancy, when I was so huge I could hardly move around, and I miss that aspect of my old life as well. I miss baking. I miss kitchen time being joyful instead of perfunctory, when it was about frosting cakes and not freezing breastmilk.
It's bittersweet, having one of the best things that has ever happened to me also be one of the hardest. I'm overcome with joy one moment and filled with sadness and doubt the next.
Edward's used to my back and forth, though. We knew things were going to change majorly when we realized I was pregnant, and even more so when we found out I was carrying twins. He sits beside me now, gazing in fascination at them, easing Finn into his arms the second the baby's tiny lips pop off my nipple. They stare at each other for a minute, and then Finn smacks his lips, eyes drifting shut again.
"Eating and sleeping. Dude's got his priorities straight," Edward says, resting him against his chest. He closes his eyes and runs his nose over Finn's downy little head. "They're getting so big."
"Every day," I agree, appreciating the quiet pause.
"Too fast. I feel like…" He sighs deeply, leaning his head back and staring at the ceiling. "I'm gone too much."
I tend to agree, but, then, I'm conflicted. How do you balance something like this? I know what I want, and I know what he wants - he wants it all. Whether or not he can have that remains to be seen. For now, for this second, it's enough to watch him with the babies he helped create.
He looks at me, and I drown in his eyes. They say so much, even when we're not speaking at all. Right now they're saying he needs me. Mine are probably saying the same thing.
I glance down at Isla, who's passed out too, thankfully. Edward stands first, waiting for me to tug my robe shut before helping me up. We return the littles to their cribs and finally - finally - hug. I turn my face up to his and palm his cheeks, kissing him. He runs his hands down my back and over my hips, bringing them to the front where he parts my robe. I'm wearing just panties underneath, and he slides his thumbs across, tucking them into the elastic.
"Take a shower with me," he whispers after a while, fiddling with the baby monitor to make sure it's on.
"Lemme check on Charlie…"
He follows me down the hall, hand grazing my behind with just a hint of suggestion as I poke my head into Charlie's room. She's sprawled out on her carpet, doodling in a coloring book as she half-watches Doc McStuffins. Her sneakers are tossed aside, bits of grass trailing in from outside.
"You okay, baby?"
"Yah, Mom."
"Are you hungry? Ready for breakfast?"
"I had french toast already," she says, legs waving in the air. "And M&M's. With Dad."
"Okay." I peer at her for a second longer and then, content she's doing her own thing, let Edward lead me to our room.
"French toast?" I ask, eyebrows raised. "What do I have to do to get french toast?"
"I've got something better than french toast," he says, locking the door and kicking his shoes off.
"Doubtful." Letting my robe drop to the floor, I shake my head. "Nothing's better than french toast."
Edward's shirt goes next. "Nothing?"
"Nothing." I peel my panties off and kick them across the room, not bothering to see where they land.
Leaving his gym shorts on, he pushes me on to the bed and slides my ass to the edge, where he buries his face between my legs and proves that there's at least one thing that is definitely, infinitely better than french toast.
Rosalie passes me a huge bowl of salad, which I carry out to the patio. She follows right behind, setting several bottles of dressing down beside it. It's Makenna's birthday, and we have quite the spread to celebrate. The sun is bright and it feels good to be outside, enjoying the weather and each other's company.
All of the usual suspects are here, including Mike and Jessica, but the birthday girl's having a sleepover. Several of her girlfriends flit around the yard, giggling and carrying on the way preteen girls tend to. A couple of them are openly checking out Edward, who's strolling around the yard, a baby in each arm, deep in conversation with Emmett.
I mean, I get it - he doesn't look the way their dads do. He's young and hot and covered in ink. He wears the trendiest jeans and jackets and sneakers. His hair's grown out into this ridiculous haircut I tease him about but secretly love.
Thank God they can't see his nipple ring.
"They start young these days," Rosalie snarks, pointing a carrot stick their way. Charlie's joined the girls now, prancing along as if she's their age.
"It's the tattoos." I squint beneath the sun, shading my eyes. "He gets attention everywhere we go."
"Yeah. And the fact he's hot. And somewhat famous."
"I doubt any of these little girls watch soccer."
"You'd be surprised…"
"It's so dumb," Makenna, who must have been inside, pops up behind us. "Crystal's like, plotting how to get a picture with him."
Amused, I turn and peer up at her. "Tell her to just go ask."
She rolls her eyes, but I suspect she secretly enjoys all of it. She struts over to her friends and drags one of them over to Edward and Emmett, who, even from our vantage point, seem bemused by the gaggle of girls suddenly surrounding them. I watch as Emmett takes the twins so that Edward can pose with who must be Crystal.
"That was…interesting," he says afterward, joining us on the patio.
"Can't take you anywhere," I laugh, taking Isla from him. "Such a girl magnet."
Smirking, he plops down beside me. "You know Chuck's the only girl for me." Isla lets out a squeal, and Edward grins, leaning in to kiss her face. "And you. Always you."
After a loud and rowdy lunch, Makenna blows out her candles and opens presents. Everyone's taking pictures and blowing bubbles and running around, and it's the most normal day we've had in forever. Reminds me of old times. As the day wears on, though, Charlie starts getting whiny, and though Isla's dozing, Finn starts crying indignantly with hunger. He's always hungry. Despite being born about a minute after his sister, he's already bigger, resplendent with rolls of baby chub.
Charlie appears, her lower lip stuck out so far I'm surprised she hasn't tripped on it. She wants to spend the night, the way she does all the time, but this isn't the night for that. Makenna should have special time with girls her age, something I've explained repeatedly.
Edward's eyes meet mine across the table, and he winces at Finn's shrieking. "Time to go."
"For sure," I agree, ignoring Charlie's theatrics. "You can see Makenna tomorrow, Charlie."
"But Mom," she huffs, stamping her foot.
Rosalie, a little overwhelmed herself, shoots me a sympathetic glance. "Tomorrow, Chuck. It'll be better."
"But Auntie Rose."
Eventually we wrestle everyone into the car. Charlie's still pouting, but Finn's held over by a speed-feed I managed while Edward was getting the girls into their carseats. Me? I couldn't be more tired if I tried.
But then Edward slides into the car beside me. He reverses out of the driveway, tangles his fingers with mine, and smiles.
"Love you," he mouths.
Sometimes that's all it takes.
I bring our hands to my mouth and kiss his fingers. "Love you too."
"I just don't understand why you need to go early. Now you'll be gone the entire week."
"I guess he feels we need the extra prep," Edward explains patiently.
I press my lips together, not trusting myself to speak when I'm this irritated.
"It's always been this way, babe. When he makes the call, I have to go."
"I know! I know." I nod, but I'm physically and emotionally exhausted and, well, tired of putting everyone and everything else ahead of myself. The tornado of emotion churning deep inside me is mostly due to a lack of sleep and a touch of postpartum depression, but it's also general disappointment that Edward's not going to be here when I thought he was this week. He's not just my lover and my husband, he's my best friend and I miss him. I miss our alone time. And then I feel guilty, because his profession provides an amazing lifestyle and I should be grateful for what we have. And that just makes me feel worse. It's a vicious cycle.
Edward's coach has asked the team to convene two days before their game. Logically, I know he wouldn't be doing this if he didn't feel like it was absolutely necessary, but I'm so tired of last minute changes like this.
This game's a big deal. If they win this, they go on to play in the MLS Cup. So yeah - it's huge. I get it. It's just…I thought we had another few days.
Now that the glitz and glamor have worn off, the lifestyle is harder than I expected. I think fleetingly of Garret's wife Kate, and how sure she was that she didn't want children. I can see why now - it's tough to balance the two. Me? I'd pick my kids all day long. It just sucks that I have to pick at all.
"I'm sorry, Bella, but we knew it was going to get intense the further along we got." Edward sighs, flipping his hair from his face. "This is it. The point. Making it to the playoffs…"
We both know he's right. Since getting back into the major leagues, this has been one of Edward's goals - to participate in the MLS Cup. At first we weren't sure if he was on the right team for that, but after years of a less than stellar run, the Seattle Sounders are part of the Western Conference. This is huge for them. It's intense, though - the tournament started in late October and we're in December now. We've attended as many home games as possible, but for the most part Edward's been on his own. He eats, breathes and sleeps soccer.
It's not like Edward's missing my birthday or our anniversary: it's not any particular thing. It's more like everything. Postpartum life feels heavier this time around, with two babies and a six year old. Charlie's actually a really good helper, and I have my friends and family, but I find myself getting overwhelmed and depressed pretty easily.
"It's fine, Edward." And it is, I guess. It's going to have to be. I leave him to his packing and return to the kitchen, where the twins are in a pack n' play on the floor. Finn's onesie has sheer sleeves made to look like tattoos. My chest tightens, and I turn away, wiping tears from my face.
Get a grip, Bella.
"It's not." He appears beside me, hands on my waist as he rests his chin on my shoulder. "It's not fine. You're not fine."
Unsure if he means in general of just right now, I stiffen. "Meaning?"
"Meaning I think Rose should come with the kids, spend a day or two with you guys."
I bite back the crazy things I feel like saying, mostly because he's right. He knows I have a hard time being alone lately. Sometimes I don't know who I am anymore.
"Fine."
Exhaling roughly, he steps back. "I don't know what you want me to do, Bella."
"I want you to have a nice trip, Edward. I want you to play well."
He stares blankly back at me. I know he's holding back, the same way I am.
"Just call me when you get there," I add.
We never really fight. This space between us feels foreign, and worse than any physical distance but I find I can't get past it just yet. Maybe it's good he's going. Maybe I need some time to figure my stuff out. I can't depend on him for everything, right? That was never who I was before.
Isla gurgles. Her rattle shakes. Finally breaking our stare, Edward turns from me and bends to pick her up. I'm too conflicted to watch them. I want him. I want him in every way there is to want a person. I want him inside me, over me, beneath me. I want him at my side, not a phone call away. I want him at the breakfast table and on the couch during movies and helping out with the kids. I want him, and I know he wants me, but this season of our lives has been way more complicated than either of us anticipated.
It'll pass. It will. So instead of whining and being a pain in the ass, I busy myself with dinner prep, letting Edward cuddle his kids and say his goodbyes. Charlie bounces in, bummed he's leaving but surprisingly okay with it. I should probably take a page from her book.
"Is it a new airport?" she asks, leaning into him. "A new place?"
He runs his fingers through her hair, leaving it a mess. "It's Los Angeles. Remember? I'll bring you those chocolates again. Promise."
"The ones with the pictures."
"Yep. Those ones."
"Truffles, Dad."
"Got it." He grins, squatting so he can hug her. Isla squirms, closing her hand around a fistful of his shirt. "Be good, Chuck. Take care of your Mom."
"Yah."
"Love you."
"Love you," she echoes distractedly, already skipping off to something new.
Just like we try never to go to bed arguing, we never leave without a kiss. Today he joins me at the sink, wrapping his arms tightly around me. I try to turn around so I can hug him back, but he just holds me tighter, kissing my neck, and then he's gone.
part/ch 2 coming right up...