CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

And for once, you let go

Of your fears and your ghosts

One step, not much

But it said enough

~ Taylor Swift, You Are In Love

EPOV

It was a situation we continuously found ourselves in, Bella and I. One that never failed to put a smile on my face as I relived that first moment I saw the pretty little brunette sitting in my dressing room after a show. A smile that grew as I realized how lucky of a bastard that that pretty little brunette was now my wife.

Usually the scenario brought a smile to her face, too. Tonight, however, she jumped in her seat as I gently closed the door. I recognized the look, that haunted shadow in her eyes as they slowly made their way to me.

"What happened?"

Without answering Bella held out her phone, pressing her finger against the screen.

I recognized Phil's voice immediately. And despised every vile and vulgar word he spat out through the voicemail.

"Christ," I breathed out, walking over to reach for her phone.

"That one came in two minutes ago. I have… thirty-six others."

I sat down beside her, taking the outstretched phone from her and eying dozens of voicemails. Some were ten seconds long, others going upwards of five minutes. "How did he get your number?"

She shrugged. "It's my work number. Hard to find online, but not impossible. He either keeps getting a new burner or using other peoples phones after I block his numbers."

"Shit," I sighed, eyes drifting down the neverending list of voicemails. "Did you listen to all of them?"

"Just the first couple," she admitted. "After that they get pretty repetitive and he gets harder to understand with all of the slurring."

"You know nothing he says–"

"I know," she interrupted softly. My surprise must have been easy to read on my face because she hooked her arm through mine and tucked herself into my side. "I keep waiting to feel…something. Guilty or angry or sad or anything that you're supposed to when someone dies. It's been a week and I still don't feel anything besides relief.

"I know it's not my fault and I know all of these messages are from drunken, grieving people who never gave a shit about me in the first place. Maybe this makes me a horrible person, but I don't care. About them, him, none of them."

"Good," I said, probably a little too firmly, too quickly.

As soon as the DA called, months earlier than our usual yearly conversation, I knew it was one of two things: either Tyler was getting released early, or he was dead. I didn't have it in me to even lie to myself and pretend that I felt anything other than relief at the news. The only thing holding me back was thinking Bella might somehow blame herself.

Thankfully, that didn't seem to be the case.

I quickly switched her phone off when another unknown call came in and I saw her wince at the ringing.

I tossed the phone across the couch, grabbed her free hands and pressed a kiss to her inner wrist.

She might not believe anything in those voicemails, but it was stress she didn't need. She was nearly eight months pregnant with an already stressful job. She had an influx of hormones to deal with and her own emotions to sort through. Not to mention the job of creating a human on top of it.

"Do you think… Maybe starting your maternity leave early might be good for you?"

She wasn't as surprised by my question as I thought she would be. More… conflicted as she chewed on her bottom lip. "I don't really have much to do at work these days. I already handed off most of my clients and workload. Except, you know, you."

I pressed another kiss to her wrist. I didn't love the idea of working with anyone besides her, but if I was the only thing keeping her at work then it was an easy decision. "I promise to be on my best behavior, Mrs. Cullen."

It didn't offer her the comfort I had been going for, a frown wrinkling her forehead before she turned toward me with big brown eyes. "Do you promise not to like working with Ben and Alistair more than me?"

I coughed out a laugh. "You, my love, are forgetting the lengths people have gone to avoid working with me."

"That was before. Now everyone thinks you're nice and collaborative and willing to work with anybody. You could have just about any publicist in the city working for you if you wanted."

"Ah, but I don't want," I clarified. I couldn't help but smile over at her, and the genuine worry on her face that I would ever enjoy working with anyone but her. "If I promise to be a nightmare to work with for Alistair and Ben and make it blatantly clear that you're the only one I'll ever cooperate with, will you start your maternity leave early?"

Finally, a smile tugged at her lips. "Yes."

My brows shot up. "Really?"

Bella shrugged. "I spent an hour this afternoon playing scrabble on my phone. Renata already made me hand everything over. I might have snapped at her two weeks ago when she suggested I start doing the same with you."

I pressed my lips to her cheek. "It'll only ever be you, Bella."

.M.

The texts started around noon.

It was her first day off of work. Renata had been quick to tell her to start her leave whenever she wanted and after a slightly uncomfortable meeting with Alistair, she was done working for the foreseeable future.

I knew she would go back eventually. She would get too restless, even with the baby. But I was equally surprised and elated that she had decided to take any extra time off at all.

She deserved to relax. A few weeks to breathe. Some time to try and enjoy the end of her pregnancy without worrying about work or when the next time Phil would track down her number.

Her work number had been deactivated. Her personal thankfully out of the hands of any of her family.

I thought–hoped–she would rest. She had been fast asleep when I left for work this morning. Both dogs curled up in bed beside her after having their breakfast, Gus taking his spot at the foot of the bed while Lady curled up beside Bella. Both got more protective of her by the day, a surprisingly endearing duo of guards.

I knew from the very first text that resting wasn't on her agenda just yet.

Did you know there is special baby laundry detergent?

Even though she couldn't see me, I still fought the smile that wanted to spread on my face. It had been a damn long time since I had used it, but I did know about the baby detergent.

The first message was simple enough. It was entirely possible she was sitting in bed with her notebook full of notes that she didn't let me near and tablet in hand as she attempted to learn everything there was about babies. But after my rehearsal I came back to a phone with a dozen messages that made it obvious she was neither resting nor relaxing.

Do you think two cars means we need two car seats?

Nevermind.

How many baby monitors is too many?

Don't answer that.

Baby clothes are so fucking tiny I refuse to believe anything actually fits in them.

I read through the string half a dozen times. She might not have been relaxing, but I knew every little precaution she took made her feel better. More prepared for something that was so entirely out of her comfort zone that it confused her to no end that even though she wanted it, she was terrified of it at the same time.

My father's car pulled into the driveway right after I did that night. Bella met my eyes in the rearview mirror with a smile and a wave.

I heard both of my parents shoo her inside as I headed toward the car.

"Hi," she sighed, reaching up to press a kiss to my cheek.

"Hi," I smiled down at her. "What have you three been doing?"

"Shopping," she smiled. "I kind of forgot that the nursery was painted but not, you know, furnished. And Esme's was beautiful and stocked and I knew there had to be some kind of trick to making it as functional as possible so I asked her to go shopping with me. Carlisle was offended I didn't ask him to go shopping, so he came too."

My parents were on their second trip out to the car to unload everything.

I took a few bags from Dad as he walked by, Bella following me inside after Mom shoo'd her off again.

"I hope you got at least a minimum of three baby monitors," I said with a smile, dropping the bags on the counter that was already overflowing.

Bella pressed her lips together. Her guilt would have been more convincing if her eyes hadn't flashed with unfiltered excitement. "I got four."

She launched into a lengthy explanation about the benefits of each one and how she planned to return at least two of them, but the money was the least of my concern.

I didn't care if we never opened any of them or if she bought a dozen car seats. I cared that, for the moment, she wasn't letting that fear or anxiety win and she wasn't regretting taking the time off of work.

I did have to hold back a laugh when my father walked in with the biggest jug of baby-safe laundry detergent I had ever seen.

.M.

"I'm sorry… you invited who to dinner?" Bella asked. I regretted having the conversation over the phone. I knew the face had to have been priceless as I repeated the name.

It had been a spur of the moment meeting. I hadn't known she was in town. She had quickly accepted my invitation to host the show for a few weeks while I was on paternity leave. She was in town doing some business of her own and stopped by the theater this morning to say hello and drop off a basket of presents for my Bella and the baby.

A shockingly endearing and thoughtful gesture from a woman who has spent half of her life dodging accusations of being a heartless murderer.

"She was very excited. And very adamant about bringing food and made me promise to tell you not to lift a finger."

I heard her adorable mixture of a cough and snort over the line. "Like I could cook for her. I can hardly cook for myself!"

I hesitated. "Her husband is in town, too."

She let out a heavy sigh. "I always knew your ability to be friends with anyone would backfire someday."

I held back my laugh.

Her nerves weren't necessary.

While our dinner guest might have been the most awarded entertainer in the history of the Academy Awards, she was also a mother. And immediately put Bella at ease with a wave of her hand when she walked in the front door.

"You're creating a human. The last thing you should be doing is cooking us dinner," she said with a smile that I knew put Bella at ease.

I'd never been on the bandwagon with people who trashed the woman. The history Hollywood had with tearing people apart for the fun of it never sat right with me, and I knew better than to believe any headline I read. Still, it was hard to believe anyone could ever meet her and not be immediately charmed by her.

She was blunt but kind. Brutally honest but sincere. She answered every single question Bella asked about motherhood with a smile.

"It's…" she hesitated, obviously reading into Bella's own anxiety over her impending thrust into motherhood. "This is going to sound stupid, but it's simultaneously easier than you ever expected it to be and mind-blowingly harder. You'll never be perfect. Moms are blamed for everything. But at the end of the day, all you have to do is show up and care."

"I think you've got the caring part down," I said. "There are seven different baby monitors in the nursery."

"I wasn't sure which was best," Bella sighed.

"GoodnightBaby," our guest's husband offered, looking over at my wife with a surprisingly sincere smile. "Clear video and audio, easy to install and add multiple angles. Hardest to hack."

"Okay," Bella nodded, taking any ounce of advice she could.

If there was anyone to take security advice from, it was him.

"Do you have your nursery set up?" his wife asked, changing the subject flawlessly.

Within a minute the women were headed upstairs to said nursery.

"Thank you," her husband said after a few moments of comfortable silence. He swirled the scotch around in his cup. "For inviting her."

"Of course."

He shook his head. "I've been by her side since she was twenty. I can count on one hand the number of times someone genuinely asked her to dinner without any ulterior motives."

"She's… not what everyone makes her out to be."

Even after the last few years she'd had, there would always be people talking. Always people jealous or angry that she has consistently managed to prove she's undoubtedly the most successful entertainer in recent history.

But I could also hear her upstairs excitedly giving my wife advice on the best organization for her changing station.

"You were kind to her, even before everybody started changing their minds."

"I've never been a fan of the Hollywood game."

He nodded, taking a swig of his drink. A smirk that made my blood run cold tugged at his lips. "Don't worry. I made sure it hurt."

"You never know what can happen to a person in prison."

Years ago, she was a guest on the show. Months after Bella's attack. Those were his words after he asked about what kind of sentence Tyler got.

Maybe I should have felt guilty or scared of the man across from me who had nearly blatantly admitted to having someone killed on my behalf.

Memory after memory of Bella in that hospital flashed behind my eyes, though. Her face broken and bruised and her sobs as she clutched to me in the shower and could hardly stand on her own two feet.

There would be no guilt or sorrow that man was no longer alive. That he would never be around to threaten my wife or family.

"Good."

A/N: ;)