A/N: Hey, happy weekend!
Thank you to everyone who've left reviews or faved, or who're just lurking. If you're reading, I'm happy.
A reminder that these chapters are unbeta'd indefinitely. My beta is going through personal stuff and I'm giving her time. Any mistakes are mine. I do run every chapter through text reader before posting so I tend to catch most things, but I suck a lot of the time, too. Just giving you a head's up, so no need to be an asshole and anon review some lame af punctuation discrepancy. Depending on how I feel I'll reply to shit like that, but lately I really cbf.
Anywho, hope you enjoy.
Footprints in the Sand
Chapter 11
It's just before noon when I drag my ass out of bed for the first day of my break, and just after when I pull on my sneakers to hit the pavement. The problem is, it's been a full week since my last run, and my body has already started to acclimatize itself out of routine.
My gait is off, my breathing short and uneven, and my mind is all over the place. I can't reel it in and focus for the life of me. It's in every direction and on Frowning Daddy all at once.
Of course there's no sweet little Addie waiting for me in her grandmother's front yard with offerings of sugar and refreshments. While Edward said she's bouncing back like a trooper, she's still pretty congested. Doctor Cullen diagnosed her with Influenza B; a particularly nasty flu strain that's kept the E.R packed to the rafters during the early hours of the mornings these last few weeks.
Edward's holding strong, he tells me, but I learned something new about him this past week; he's scared of needles. While I have a flu jab annually, Edward's never had one. Of course, it could be a part of his fear of anything hospital related, but he side-skirts that topic like the plague, so I really can't be sure.
By the time I make it home, my legs are like lead. I drag myself up the single flight of stairs, clutching the railing for my life, and as I'm struggling to unlock my front door, feeling like I'm on the verge of hallucinating from oxygen deprivation, my phone rings.
Stupidly Handsome the screen alerts me; the name I assigned Edward in my contacts.
"H-hey..." I greet him three seconds before my door flies open as I all but face-plant the floor.
"Bella?" he asks skeptically.
"Yeah... it-it's... me..." I'm still gasping while making a futile attempt to catch my breath. And failing.
"Have I caught you in the middle of something?"
"I... just... got back... from... running..." I utter out, leaning against the kitchen counter to keep myself on my feet as I head toward my bedroom.
"I can practically hear your heartrate through the phone."
"It w-was... rough..." I say, continuing to stammer.
"Sounds like it."
"Hold... on... a sec." Shoving open my bedroom door, I let myself fall face first to my bed, a sweaty, hyperventilating mess as a long, languid moan breaks from my lips. "Oh my god..."
"Bella?" he asks after a pause.
"Hmm?" I mumble behind closed eyes. My heart is hammering so much I can feel it reverberating through the crumpled sheets around me.
"Okay, I was going to ask you for coffee again, but you sound like you're dying," he says ruefully.
"Coffee?" I repeat, my smile pulling wide before I'm fully aware of it, but what the hell is it with this man and coffee? "Are you going... to put me... on the stand... again?"
"I'm making an effort not to, remember?" he replies, chuckling softly into the receiver and turning it static for a moment.
"'Kay, give me... maybe... forty minutes?" Rolling to my back, I drape my forearm over my eyes. I feel hopelessly light-headed, and his seductive-sounding voice is only adding to it. "I need... to jump in the... shower."
"Alright, I'll pick you up at two," he informs me.
"I can...drive," I say unconvincingly after groggily sitting myself upright.
"Bella, you live a mile away. I'll come and get you," he insists, and something tells me he's used to getting his way.
I'm too wiped out to argue, so I don't. "Fine. So... stubborn."
"See you soon," he concludes before the phone line goes dead.
"Bye, Edward," I say as loudly as my shortened breath allows before tossing my iPhone to my unmade bed beside me. "That man..."
. . .
Edward's waiting for me just outside my apartment block, leaning against the retaining wall, his ankles crossed, and both his hands buried deep in his pants pockets.
I almost walk straight past him.
Clearing his throat subtly, he takes my elbow and scares the life out of me in the process.
"Edward—jesus!" I blurt, my hand instinctively reaching for my heart as it jolts physically in reaction to him.
Midnight blue suit this time, red tie slightly pulled loose, sans vest, and sex hair on steroids. For a moment, I wonder whether he's purposely wearing it so messy after I confessed to thinking his neatly combed hair was synonymous with homosexuality.
"Where the hell were you going?" he asks, his secret amusement at me not-so-secret.
I shake my head to myself, flustered at the sight of him before me after a week of only seeing him in my dreams, while simultaneously being caught with my brain ten minutes ahead of myself again. "I'm early, I didn't expect you to be here already."
"I stopped in to see Addie first," he explains, turning in the direction of the visitor's parking lot.
"Oh, how is she?" I ask, eager for news about her.
"She was asleep, but she's getting there." Placing his palm to my lower back, he leads me toward his car. "So, you recovered from your run..." It's not a question.
"Fully recovered. Bad day in the office?" I ask, inconspicuously referring to his bed hair.
"I had court this morning," he says in explanation, pulling open the passenger-side door for me.
"Do you go to court often?" I put to him after he slides into the driver's side and starts the engine.
"Not usually. Most cases are settled in litigation," he answers, his sharp eyes on the road as he swerves into traffic.
I don't reply, and he offers nothing else by way of conversation. Instead, I observe him closely from my periphery, examining his strong chin, and sharp-angled jaw; not to mention that seemingly permanent frown tangled in his brow. He's chewing on the inside of his cheek as if his mind's elsewhere while a shadow of a smile twitches on his lips.
This man's as physically beautiful as much as he's a mystery.
We don't go to Al Marzocco, instead he drives into the heart of Seattle, a few blocks east of Belltown and turns down Westlake Avenue.
"Starbucks, hm?" I guess after he finds a two hour park along the curb roughly twenty feet away.
"I need more than a shot," he replies, his grin pulling into effect before he cuts the engine and pushes open his door.
I follow suit, and after making his way around the front of his car to the side walk, he turns on his alarm and falls into line beside me.
"One Venti Latte. One Grande Latte," the cashier recaps, making deliberate eye contact with Edward as she places the two cardboard cups to the counter.
"Thank you," he replies off-handedly, and taking both, he turns to face the body of the café. "Where do you want to sit?"
"By the window," I suggest, grabbing two stirrers, several sachets of sugar, and a handful of napkins from the condiments station and following behind him.
"So..." Edward begins, after we find a small table for two in the far left corner of the room, "how long do you run for?"
"An hour, give or take," I say with a small simple shrug. "Too many questions today and I'm pleading the fifth."
He smirks to himself, his eyes on his coffee as he pulls off the plastic lid and pours his sugar in. "Is that so?" He almost appears to challenge me.
"Hmm..." Mirroring him, I pop off my coffee lid, add my sugars, and stir.
"You don't seem to have any trouble answering via text." His eyes rise to mine, his brows arching high in obvious emphasis.
"Talking with you over text is easy. In person you're intimidating," I reiterate my earlier confession. I debated back and forth with myself whether or not to out myself on how attractive I find him. I promised myself I wouldn't get neurotic over it too, and it's a promise I'm determined to keep.
"Because of my aura?" he reminds me, bringing the cup to his lips, his grin visible from behind it.
"Are you mocking me?" I tilt my head as my expression echoes his.
"I can't gauge you over text at all," he admits, completely evading my question. "I feel like I'm talking to a different person."
"How so?" I ask, blowing into my coffee and putting the lid back on.
"Would you call me an asshole right now?"
"Asshole," I say without hesitation, fighting to hold back my smile.
It's a fight Edward loses, and breaking into a broad grin, he bows his head and shakes it minutely. "Bella..." he mumbles more or less to himself.
"Hmm?" I enquire; though, I'm well aware he didn't speak my name as a question.
"I do need to ask you something though, and I want you to be honest," he says, his voice lowering sedately.
"When am I not honest?" I quirk a brow.
He sighs and puts the question to me regardless. "You don't really want to go tomorrow night, do you?"
"Oh..." I mumble, taking a sip of my coffee awkwardly. "Not really."
Well, he wanted me to be honest...
"Explain it to me." He leans his upper body toward me and catches my gaze with the intensity of his.
"I already did at our last coffee date," I point out.
He appears to ponder it for a moment, his forehead knotting heavily as he does. "You don't want to go because of what Rose accused you of," he concludes.
"Me turning up with you will prove her right," I say drolly.
"Then why did you agree to go with me?"
"I decided to make an exception for you," I profess, taking another sip of my coffee and raising a nonchalant shoulder.
Taking a breath he releases it into a hum. "Good."
He drinks his coffee—a lot faster than anyone I've ever known. He doesn't even flinch. This man must have some kind of immunity to heat. After, he appears to get lost in his thoughts. He does this almost as much as I do.
"Ever think you're living in Groundhog Day?" I say breaking the silence with something so completely random it takes all I have in me not to melt into my chair.
"What?" he asks as if he misheard, a sort of confused bemusement bunching his brow.
"I mean, sometimes I think I'm living the same day over and over again. Work, running, coffee date with Al; work; running, rinse, repeat. You know?"
He laughs once breathily through his nose. "With Addie no two days are ever the same."
"Hmm, well I envy you..." I murmur, bringing my lips to the spout of the lid. He doesn't reply, and when I raise my eyes to his I realize his confusion has ingrained further and his smile has definitely broken free again. "What?"
"You are the first woman to ever admit she envies me over being a single parent."
"If I was guaranteed a child as sweet as yours, I'd be a single parent tomorrow," I say lightly.
"Tomorrow?" he questions, his dubious eyebrow alerting me to the fact I just said something completely nonsensical.
"It was an expression—you know what I mean." I wave my hand dismissively as his smile lingers and becomes more to himself.
"You browsing Netflix tonight?" he asks after a moment of gauging me.
"More than likely."
"Not seeing Alice?"
"Alice and I once spent every free moment we had together, but she's engaged now and her priorities have changed."
"That tends to happen."
"It does," I agree simply. I contemplate shrugging again, but take a sip of my coffee instead.
"Friday nights for me are usually an extension of the work day," he volunteers, placing his, no doubt, empty cup to the table between us.
"Choice or necessity?"
"Both," he answers after a moment of considering it.
"Workaholic?" I tilt my head and meet his sheepish smile head on.
He nods slowly. "Yes."
"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," I quote.
"Pardon?" he says, his blank expression hedging with amusement again as if I really am the anomaly he claims I am.
"The Shining. Have you seen it?"
"I haven't."
"Hm. It's good. I preferred the book," I say casually, finishing my coffee and placing it beside his.
"The books I read tend to be non-fiction," he adds, his smile continuing to ghost on his lips.
"That doesn't surprise me."
"What would surprise you?" Leaning back into the chair, he folds his arms across his chest and gazes at me steadily.
"If you told me you wrote Harry Potter fanfiction," I reply without really thinking, and then wanting to die. I suck so hard at flirting, I wonder why I even attempt it, and Edward's expression immediately quirks because he clearly thinks I'm insane.
"You say the exact opposite of what I expect," he says so quietly it's practically beneath his breath.
"Is that a bad thing?" I ask self-consciously.
"It's fucking refreshing," he states without looking at me.
"I can be random, I guess," I attempt to salvage it.
"I noticed that through your texts. We doing that again tonight?" His question is accompanied by an arched eyebrow and his trademark smirk.
"You want to?" I'm more than on board if he is.
"I want to," he says, sounding adamant.
"Then, sure." I smile; I can't help it, but his soon follows and for one suspended moment that's how we remain.
"Have I broken your Groundhog Day?" he asks, breaking himself from it.
"I'm sorry?"
"Texting you. It's something different. Not just working, running, and coffee with Alice..." he relays emphatically.
This time it's me who's lost for words while becoming overwhelmed with the urge to laugh for no apparent reason. Or maybe it's because he can be so charming it's the one thing that actually does surprise me about him.
. . .
What I've realized about Edward is he's very literal. A coffee date is a coffee date and when the coffee is all drunk, it's over. He drives me back to my apartment with the heel of his left hand relaxed against the steering wheel, and a lazy grin on his face.
I want to ask what he's thinking but don't because the visual is a thousand times more aesthetically pleasing.
He pulls his car to a stop in the visitor's carpark again, and then walks me to the entrance.
"Addie goes to bed at 7:30. I'll message you then," he says.
I nod once and flash him a quick smile. "I'll look forward to it."
He doesn't move to leave; instead, he places his palm against the frame of the entry doors above me and leans closer toward me.
I feel trapped, or maybe ensnared, and not in a bad way, and this is despite the fact that he appears to be deliberating internally with himself whether to kiss my mouth, or to make contact with my forehead again.
"Ed..." I begin when his indecision turns to discomfort on my part, and that's when he closes the distance between us and presses his lips briefly but tenderly to mine.
"I'll call you tomorrow and let you know what time I'll be here," he says after pulling back, business as usual.
I nod dumbfounded and only stare back at him like an idiot.
His lips are so firm, so soft...
He smirks, and he pulls it off just as well as the frowning. "See you, Bella."
"I—I mean, bye." Spinning on my heel abruptly, I head for the flight of stairs to my apartment before he can note the shade of my cheeks, or the abject mortification in tandem with them.
This man is turning me into a complete basket case.
. . .
I used to watch a lot of movies. Mostly in high school and college. Edward texts at 7:35 p.m. on the noodle.
Which ones?I reply, stupid big grin wide. I was unashamedly staring at my phone for the last ten minutes straight waiting for those three dots to start flickering at the bottom of my text screen.
The Godfather.
That's heavy. What's your favorite movie?
Probably The Shawshank Redemption. Have you seen it?
Yes. Stephen King.
So it is. What's yours?
Constantine.
I don't know it.
Keanu Reeves.
I still don't know it.
I might make you watch it with me sometime.
Deal.
I'm not watching The Godfather with you. Way too heavy.
He texts a laughing-face emoji before he adds, Found anything on Netflix?
No. I think I have more of a fetish with browsing.
Fetish is an interesting choice of word.
Do you always take everything so literally?
Not always. Can I ask you something?
You're asking my permission now?
Yes. How do you feel about me?
I think you're stupidly handsome. I reply with a winking emoji.
Please be serious.
In all seriousness, I like you.
Are you sure you want to do this with me?
Do what...?
Get involved with me knowing I have Addie.
I pause for the longest moment trying to ascertain his meaning, but I remain just as confused. Does he think Addie is somehow a negative?
Well, I like Addie more than you, so...
Bella.
Of course I'm sure, you dork. Why would you even need to ask me that? Do you think maybe Rose was right about me?
Of course not.
Then why?
I just needed to hear you say it.
Or see you say it. He amends a few seconds later.
Last week you said we were too different, and this week you've done a complete reversal. Who is giving whom mixed messages here?
You have me there, but Bella, you challenge me, and you're exactly the kind of woman I need.
Woman makes me feel old. Do you only need me?
You're young, beautiful, and I want you just as much.
What are you going to tell Addie? I ask with my loins suddenly on fire. Holy shit, two coffee dates and now I'm... what? Involved with him? I never understood the term "making your head spin" until now, but it's definitely a state I'm presently in.
Nothing at first. Just that we're friends.
So, you won't grope me in front of her? I joke.
No, I won't. We'll have to sneak around for a while. Will that bother you?
No. I like the idea of having secret liasons.
Bella, what am I supposed to do with you?
Was that rhetorical, or do you want me to answer?
Answer.
Anything you want to do with me.
Jesus. You have no idea what you do to me.
What do I do to you? Okay, this time, we're definitely edging into sexting.
I've felt like a horny teenager since the moment I saw you on my parents doorstep dressed in your pajamas.
I thought you said you had food poisoning?
I did. I was throwing my guts up stiffer than I've ever been in my life. Bella, surely you realize how other guys look at you.
Oh, god, what the hell is happening? He's talking about how I arouse him?
Like the girl who openly battered her eyelashes at you at Starbucks today? I type, my hands shaking so much it takes me twice as long to send after all the autocorrect fails.
I didn't notice.
I don't notice, either. I reply as a new message alert flashes on my screen.
25 people STILL haven't RSVP'd!
Alice.
Maybe you should message them on Facebook. I quickly type back.
I shouldn't have to chase people down and beg them to come to my wedding!
Several exclamation marks. This could get serious, very fast.
Al, I'm chatting to Edward.
Ooooh.
Bella...? Edward's message notification pops on my screen.
Sorry, Edward, Alice has messaged me with wedding frustrations. Help me come up with an excuse to get rid of her?
We going dress shopping tomorrow? Alice's message breaks in.
Tell her we're at a very important climax in our texting and she's interrupting.
Yes, we are.
You agree? Edward asks as I realize I just sent Alice's message to him.
Smooth, Edward. That would do the opposite to get rid of her. That message was for Alice by the way. She wants to go shopping tomorrow.
Alice and you are so different.
Okay, let's meet at Pacific Place at midday. Alice replies.
Kay. See you then. To Edward I text: You think?
That your sarcasm again?
When am I ever sarcastic?
All the time over text. Rarely in person.
You're very perceptive.
So you keep saying. Tell me about this ex-boyfriend of yours?
Who? Tyler?
Was that his name? He sounds 16.
He acted like he was 16. He's a complete moron, and then he cheated on me with a nurse from pre-op.
He cheated on you? I've seen his pictures Bella. What the hell were you doing? You are way out of his league.
Charmer. That's very shallow.
Shallow or not, it's true.
Have you had any girlfriends? I don't elaborate. He doesn't want to talk about his wife, so I'm not going to mention her.
Since my wife died? Not really, no. I had no time.
I stop and consider it for a moment, noting what an unusual thing it was for him to say. I imagine the loss of his wife was devastating and that's why he didn't date, but because he had no time?
Are you ok with talking about this? He asks when I don't immediately reply.
I'm okay. Are you?
I'm ok. Can I ask you something else?
Edward, you don't need to ask my permission first.
Have you evewjrctbdddfgsnuf.
?
I'm sorry, Bella. Addie's out of bed. She just jumped on me.
Oh lol. Tell her I said hi.
She says hello. And that she misses talking to you. Give me a moment to put her back to sleep, ok?
Okay.
She's definitely getting better. He texts back almost half an hour later.
That's good. Poor little chicken was so sick.
She shrugs things off fast, thank god.
So what were you going to ask me? I jog his memory, but the curiosity's getting the better of me.
Oh. I can't remember.
Really?
Really. Change of topic.
He's going into avoidance mode again. I sigh. He's as frustrating as he claims I am. Yes?
Have you been out of the country?
No. You?
Europe. Egypt. Pacific Islands.
You've been to Egypt? I am so jealous. I've been to Hawaii, and that's as far as I've traveled.
My parents took me and Emmett to Egypt when we were teenagers. I don't think we really appreciated it.
You're lucky. The most exciting thing my father did with me was take me to the beach at La Push. He was also afraid to fly.
Are you?
No.
I'm taking Addie to Disney World this summer. She's been bugging me to take her for two years now.
Does she know?
God no. She'd never shut up about it. I'll probably tell her a few days before.
I text a laughing emoji with: She's adorable.
I decided to get her tested.
You don't sound happy about it.
I'm not.
What will change if she's diagnosed?
Nothing.
Exactly. Nothing. She'll still be Addie.
I know. How did your father take it?
I have no idea. I was 6.
Ok, that was a stupid question.
No it wasn't. I get that it's stressing you out. When's her test?
Not until May. It was the earliest I could get her seen.
I promise you, she'll be fine.
Bella?
Yes.
Do you think we can graduate from texting to talking over the phone?
You don't like texting?
I do, but I don't think I'm grasping who you are very well this way.
You honestly don't need to figure me out. Just ask me.
I prefer to figure people out.
If you're able to figure me out after two coffee dates and several texts, I'm going to feel incredibly superficial.
That's the last thing you are.
What do you honestly think you're going to find?
I'm not sure.
Way to instill me with confidence, Edward!
That came out wrong. I just want to understand you.
What have you figured out so far?
If I answer will you reciprocate?
Are you really asking me that? It's you who always finds a way to avoid answering.
Ok, point taken. You first.
Hell no. You first!
Bella. He definitely has a habit of texting only my name.
I decide to tease him and do the same. Edward.
And you say I'm a smart ass.
No stalling!
Fine, woman. You're honest, sweet, funny, sarcastic, you have a depth about you, and while you put off this very simplistic impression of yourself, I'm beginning to think you're very complicated.
Complicated? I ask while my hearts feels like it's about to jump from my chest. He's come to all those conclusions about me already? He is definitely a well that springs deep.
Maybe it's not the right word. Complex.
Complex/complicated, they're synonyms of the same meaning.
You are very frustrating.
What? No I'm not.
To me you are.
That's not very complimentary.
It's not a negative thing, Bella.
He's beginning to lose me, and he can so easily make me feel stupid. I veer back. All those things you described about me are very ordinary.
You're unordinary.
There's no riddle to solve. I'm just me.
I want to know why you're you.
Why?
Because you are unlike any woman I have ever known.
A/N: thanks for reading :)