Twilight - SM
not beta'd; rated M
for Nic, the fic whisperer. And Joy, who doesn't even read fic anymore (so she won't read this) but remains Bae/apple of my eye/sanchita.
part 3 of today's telenovela:
"Thanks, Gar."
"No problem, Bella. Is there anything I can get you before we go?"
"We're all set, I think."
"Call me if you need anything," Kate says. "I mean it."
I lock the door behind them and head back to the bedroom, where Edward's propped up, watching TV. He grins lazily when he seems me. "Finally."
Exhaling, I give myself a minute to check him out. I must look pretty stressed, because Edward's smile fades and he sits up a little straighter. "Bella…hey."
"Hey yourself," I say, breathing through the tightness in my chest. The bruise that has blossomed over his brow looks even worse than I thought it would and it takes everything in me not to lose my cool.
"Get over here," he says, beckoning.
So I go, crawling into the bed and wrapping myself around him. He's got stitches across the middle to left side of his forehead, and then the bruising, but other than that he seems all right. Still, I can't get the image of him on that field out of my mind.
"It's okay," he says, like he knows what I'm thinking. It's probably all over my face.
"It didn't look okay," I whisper, wiping my eyes.
"It happens." He tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I've had worse. Trust me."
"It looked horrible on TV." I touch his cheek. "We were all….freaking out. Even Charlie."
He squeezes me tight. "Shit."
"Yeah."
"Well…just one more game now, Bella. And then…"
"Then you're done until it starts all over again," I say, resigned to it all.
"Maybe not."
I sit up, sliding from his embrace. "Would you ever really be happy unless you were playing? I doubt it."
"You know me that well now, huh?" he asks. He sounds amused, but there's a stubborn, slightly pissed expression lurking around his face. Maybe he's been thinking about the same things I have. Maybe he's missed us the same way we've missed him.
We stare at each other for a long time. The events of the day catch are finally catching up, leaving me drained. My breasts tingle, and I curse, realizing that my milk's letting down.
"I have to take a shower. And pump," I say, gesturing to my chest. "I feel like I'm going to explode."
He cringes in sympathy. "I'm amazed you managed to leave Isla and Finn."
"Me too." I stand up, ignoring the wave of guilt. "It sucks."
"We'll be home tomorrow."
"I know." Even more hormones and emotions wash over me and I turn away, peeling off my sneakers and sweater.
Because he knows me all too well these days, he swings his legs to the side of the bed and pulls me over, standing me between his knees. "They'll be okay, Bella. It's just one day."
I kiss him lightly, nodding.
"I'm so glad you're here," he says.
Showering is such a relief. I emerge from the bathroom feeling a lot better, physically but also emotionally. Now that I'm in LA with Edward, and able to see myself that he's actually okay, I can relax a little.
I do still miss the kids, though, so we FaceTime Emmett and Rose. They're in the TV room, watching something with Charlie, Makenna and Embry. The twins are asleep, sprawled over my brother, which amazes me because their household is so loud. It's way past Charlie's bed time, but she's had a rough day so I let it pass. She's beyond happy to see Edward, inquiring shyly about his head wound.
Afterward, I collapse back into the blankets. "Do you think room service is still running?"
"Always. Order something."
I'm starving, but Edward manages to eat too, despite the fact his painkillers have ruined his appetite. We clear the bed and cut the lights, leaving the room in total darkness. Edward reaches for me, grasping my hand, and I lean over, finding his face so I can kiss him. For the first time in a long time, I feel at ease.
When I wake up, it's still dark. The clock on Edward's side of the bed says 4:50, but he's nowhere to be seen. I sit up, noticing the strip of light coming from beneath the bathroom door. Edward comes out a moment later, easing back into bed.
"Are you okay?"
"Head hurts," he rasps. "Took another painkiller."
"Is there anything i can do?"
"I'll be okay. Go back to sleep."
I tuck the blankets up around him and settle into his side, waiting for him to drop off again before I let myself doze.
We wake up late, around ten. I can't remember the last time I slept this long, and besides my boobs, I feel great. Edward comes out of the shower, gingerly toweling his hair.
"Do you need another painkiller?" I ask.
"I'll be alright." His gaze drifts to my chest and pauses, very obviously trying to hold back a smile. "Wow. They're huge."
"No kidding," I say. "This is what happens when I can't nurse as much as I'm used to."
"You doing okay without the babies?" he asks, carefully pulling a t-shirt over his head. "And Chuck?"
"I'm okay." I shrug. "I needed to be here."
"Yeah. You did." Something passes over his face and he comes closer, sitting beside me on the bed. "It means a lot to me that you came." It's the second time he's said this, and the gravity of it pulls at me.
"I wish I could have been here sooner. I wish…" I sigh heavily, shrugging. "I wish I'd been at that game."
Edward's highly televised injury has obviously been the talk of sports, because when we hit the airport a smattering of paparazzi spring from nowhere, cameras flashing as they shoot questions our way. Nothing about us screams celebrity - I'm in old jeans and a jacket and he's in black, a flannel tied around his waist - but they definitely know who we are.
Caught by surprise, I look to Edward for cues, but he just wraps an arm protectively around my shoulder and leads me toward our gate. A pair of security guards wander over, stopping the men from following us any further.
"Has that been happening a lot?" I ask, amused.
"Not really, but…they tend to camp out in LAX. There's always someone famous coming through, and this," he gestures to his face, "got a lot of attention yesterday."
"I bet. I haven't really been watching ESPN."
He gives me a little smile and half shrugs. "That's not our life." His hand slides down my arm and he grabs my hand, squeezing it. "This is."
The whole family is waiting at the airport when we get back, even Charlie and Sue. They burst into applause when we appear in baggage claim. I feel myself turning red, but I crack up anyway, especially when Emmett holds up a sign that says, #YouGotBalls.
Charlie sprints for us, and I bend to intercept her, unsure about how much roughhousing Edward's ready for, but he snatches her up and holds her close, whispering things in her ear that make her smile. She reaches for his face and he takes her hand, letting her touch the stitches really softly.
Meanwhile I'm all over Em, Rose and the twins, covering their tiny faces in kisses, wondering if they missed me. They missed my boobs, probably.
We grab burritos on the way home, and then it's just Edward, me and the kids again. Charlie's pretty hyper, and it takes forever to get her to chill out, but eventually she mellows out in a bath while Edward takes care of the twins. We take turns reading to her, and then we settle into bed so I can nurse Isla and Finn to sleep.
Overcome with sleepiness, I yawn widely, allowing Edward to take a fussy Finn. "I'm so tired."
"Sleep. I'll put them down."
"You need rest, too. You're flying out in" -yawn - "two days."
"Go to sleep." He kisses me and rolls out of bed, scooping Isla up as he goes.
Slowly, like I'm wading through fog, I drift awake the next morning. No alarm, no crying babies, no babbling Charlie. The quiet is almost disarming. Scrubbing at my eyes, I peer at my phone. Eight o' seven…indulgently late for me. Stretching, I get out of bed and look around, surprised to find Edward's side empty.
Shivering into Edward's oversized hoodie, I pad softly down to the nursery and look in.
He's passed out on the couch, one of the twins sleeping soundly on his chest. One tattooed hand rests securely on Finn's back, keeping him safe, and my heart squeezes with fondness and affection. I tiptoe to one of the cribs; Isla is awake, quietly mouthing a little stuffed lion. She drops it when she sees me, kicking her little socked feet in excitement until I pick her up.
By the time Edward makes it to the kitchen, Isla's fed and relaxed in her playpen while I make breakfast.
"Hungry?" I ask, wiping my hands before taking Finn.
"Yes." He nods once, going straight for the coffeemaker.
I fix him a plate and then sit to feed Finn, who nurses for about five minutes before passing out again. "Was he up a lot last night?"
"Yeah. He probably wanted you."
"You should've woken me up."
"I found your milk in the freezer." He tucks into his eggs, eating like it's his first meal in months. "We were okay."
Smiling to myself, I set Finn down beside Isla and refill my coffee before sitting. "How do your stitches feel?"
"They itch."
"I bet." Nodding sympathetically, I lean closer, examining them. They look pretty good, not that I have much to go by. I've never had stitches, myself. "You're taking it easy today, right?"
"I should probably train, but…doc said I have to rest." He sits back, hands laced behind his head. "For today at least."
It's the best I can ask for. His game on Saturday is a big deal - the biggest. I always knew he could do it, that the team could do it, but now that the MLS Cup is actually here the fact they're playing in it is hard to wrap my head around.
Having Edward home all day rocks, even when he leaves dirty socks on the bedroom floor and dishes in the sink. He makes up for it by playing with Isla, Finn and Charlie almost all day - even changing diapers which is something I never thought I'd see him do.
"Don't get used to it," he snarks, when he catches me watching.
"Oh, no - looks like soccer's not the only thing you're good at," I say, wandering back down the hallway.
Later, in bed, when everyone's asleep, he rests his head on my stomach and gazes up at me. I reach down, pushing his hair from his eyes. "Where's your headband?"
"Don't be a hater."
"I'm not," I say, rolling my eyes. His love affair with this long flop of hair is starting to rival his love of soccer. "I love the hair. But you look hot with a headband." I mean it, too - he wears one when he plays and I definitely don't hate it.
But he's already on to the next thing, fingers walking up my stomach, creeping beneath my tank top. I bite my lip, smiling when they brush the undersides of my breasts.
"You're as bad as Finn," I say, catching his hand. "And Isla."
"I miss your tits," he says, dropping a kiss on my stomach.
"I can't imagine why. You probably see them more now than you ever did."
Crawling up my body, he lands a kiss on my mouth before sitting me up so we can get my top off. He takes his off, too, and then we lie back, kissing, careful to not to squash me because we're hot and in the mood and no one wants to deal with the mess of leaky breasts. But then he's tracing his fingertips down my sides, tickling me, making me laugh into our kiss until he reaches into my underwear and I'm not laughing anymore. I deepen our kiss, needing to feel him and taste him and have him the way I've wanted to since he left last week. He responds with his whole body, moving his hand so he can press me into the bed in a way that lets me know he wants it too.
I reciprocate the touch, wiggling my hand between us so I can wrap my hand around him.
His eyes drift slowly open. He flops on to his back to get his pants off while I kick my underwear away and then we're back to business.
"Did you lock the door?" I whisper, teasing his dick with annoyingly gentle caresses.
He nods, mouth dropping open as I run my thumb over the tip.
"And are your stitches okay?" I ask. "You sure you're good to - "
"I'm fine," he says, snapping out of his trance. "I'll let you know if I'm not." He braces his arms on either side of me, and I guide him in, gasping in gratitude when he starts to move.
We don't last very long.
But damn if it isn't good.
And then, it's time for the final match of the playoffs.
The big game's on a Saturday, so I pull Charlie out of school the Thursday before so we can travel out to the east coast. The Sounders are playing the New England Revolution in Massachusetts, at Gillette Stadium. Edward's been out there for the past two days, prepping with the team.
My brother, who has supported Edward and followed his career since the college days, is nearly beside himself with excitement and pride. Wild horses couldn't keep Em away from attending this particular game, so he travels with the kids and I. Because it's December and super busy for the catering company, several of our second string team come on board to accommodate his leaving. Rose stays behind as well, up to her ears with school and holiday commitments for Makenna and Embry.
This is my first time traveling with the twins. I'm fully expecting Finn to make a scene, but surprisingly it's Isla who has a rough time with the altitude, shrieking until I'm able to nurse her to sleep. Em holds Finn while they both sleep, which is very cute and worthy of several pictures. Charlie sits between us, babbling until I direct her attention to the in-flight movie on the back of the seat in front of her.
Six hours later we touch down in Boston. I'm so grateful for Emmett it's not even funny. He hauls most of our carry-ons, including Finn, who he stuffs into a front facing BabyBjorn.
"Brings back memories," he says, yawning as we spill into the terminal. "Embry hated this thing though. Finn's a chill little dude."
"Um, with you maybe," I snort. "Maybe he recognizes a kindred spirit."
"Probably," Em says, nodding. "C'mon. Let's get our shizzle and get some food."
We chow down on fast food in the rental as we head to Foxborough, where we've got a hotel near the stadium. Edward meets us when we get there, grinning. His bruise is nearly gone, and he's gotten some sun since he's been here which is interesting because it's really cold out.
Taking Isla from me, he joins us as we check into the hotel and then helps us with luggage.
"I'm gonna call Rosie," Em says, giving us some privacy as he steps into the hall.
"How'd it go today?" Edward asks, watching as I wipe the twins down with warm washcloths. I'm too tired to attempt a bath.
"As well as can be expected." I shrug, prying Finn's fist open so I can wash his hand. "Isla took it worse than Finn, but…it was okay."
"I'm really glad you guys made it out," he says, wrapping himself around me.
"Wouldn't miss it for anything." I look back, kissing his lips lightly. "We've missed enough."
"I've missed enough," he says quietly, and I know he doesn't mean soccer.
What I remember most about Edward's last professional game isn't the frenetic excitement pulsing though the massive crowd, which we feel even in the luxury suite Edward snagged for us. It isn't Emmett and Charlie's wildly contagious glee or the twins in their matching Sounders outfits or even watching Edward move on that field like he was born to do it.
It isn't the confetti and streamers that rain down when the Sounders win, or the joy on the player's faces as they celebrate their biggest victory yet.
It's later on, lingering outside of the stadium, watching Edward banter with his teammates. It's how happy he is, even knowing that he's done for real this time. I keep waiting for a that bittersweet smile, a little sign telling me he's quitting because he feels he should, not because he wants to…but it never comes.
Emmett stays with the kids while Edward and I go out to celebrate with the team. We stay out late, enjoying a late dinner in downtown Boston with the other players, their wives and girlfriends.
"You staying with me tonight?" I ask when we're driving back to Foxborough.
"I'll never not stay with you again," he says, flashing me a crooked smile.
My silly heart skips, and kiss his cheek. "Good."
Adjusting to home life is not as difficult for Edward as I'd feared it would be. I mean, some things don't change - we're a fútbol family. We have fifty million sports channels, enabling him to catch every televised game possible. Most weekend mornings I find him kicking a ball around the backyard with Charlie, and he's a shoe-in to coach her team. I almost feel sorry for the other Dad, who tries to step down when Edward returns.
"I told him we'd do it together," he says tells me later, shrugging.
"That was gracious of you." I'm sure Other Dad doesn't feel inadequate or anything.
As for the twins, he helps just enough for me to nag him to help more. Changing their clothes? He's a natural. Changing their diapers?
"Could you please just do it?" I beg, typing furiously on the computer. "I'm in the middle of putting in an order."
"But I did it last time," Edward says, and I just know he's scrunching up his nose. "And I hate changing diapers."
On the flip side, he's great about taking Isla and Finn for walks every morning. Sometimes I go along, but more often than not it's just him and his babies, strolling the neighborhood and the nearby parks.
The aforementioned diapers are usually full to overflowing by the time he makes it back, but I let him slide by with those.
Having Edward around means I have more time to get other things done, and the sense of balance I'd so longed for starts to shift into place. I mean, life is never really balanced, but I don't feel so out of control. I start taking on the odd job with Emmett once again, gradually getting back into my baking groove…which awakens this random, latent passion in Edward, who starts experimenting in the kitchen. When he's not scouring the tube for soccer games he's watching cooking shows.
"Are we out of brown sugar?"
"Oh. Yeah." He scrawls something on a pad of paper. "I needed it for that chicken I made the other night."
I frown into the pantry. "No honey, either?"
"The muffins…sorry…I'll pick some up."
"Are you…making a shopping list?" I ask, peeking over his shoulder in amusement.
"Mhm…" He looks at the iPad, which I now see is on some food blog, and adds a couple more items to his list. I didn't think he could get any cuter, but this shoots him into nauseatingly adorable stratospheres.
Finally he tosses his pen aside and glances over. "Oh, I meant to tell you - my parents are coming for dinner. Mom got Chuck a pair of Chucks. She can't believe no one's thought of it."
"That's awesome," I laugh, hooking my finger into the back pocket of his jeans. "Well, if you're going shopping then I want to come with. I need some stuff, too."
"Like brown sugar."
"Among other things."
He eyes me speculatively. "You love this."
Folding my arms, I lean against the counter. "Love what?"
"This." He shrugs.
I think I know what he means, but I play dumb. "I do love this kitchen. It's true."
He grabs me, pulling me forward so that I'm standing between his knees when he sits again. "This. Being together. Grocery shopping." He sneaks a kiss. "With me."
I smile, because he's got my number. I love the simple domesticity of all of this, including grocery shopping with Edward. It's marvelously mundane, in the very best, and appreciated, way. I duck under the brim of his baseball cap so I can kiss him. "We should go soon, so we have plenty of time before Charlie's done with school."
Nodding, he sticks his list in a back pocket. "I'll get Finn."
"I'll get Isla." I start to go, but he pulls me back.
"Hey." He rests his hands on my waist and stares at me, light eyes reflecting the sun streaming through the kitchen's skylight. "I love it, too."
song:
SimpleThings - Miguel
thanks so much for reading! i appreciate your indulgence. i didn't initially plan on writing anymore for these two, really, but with Nic's urging and SJ's nonstop sexiness (including pictures of him with puppies and babies and...) i couldn't help myself. hope you enjoyed it.
xoxo
ro