Chapter 50.
~ Bella ~
First thing in the morning, there's a knock at the front door. Emily must still be sleeping, her door closed as I rush past it.
I don't even bother to try and tiptoe to reach the peephole. Instead, I just swing the door open.
And there he is.
Edward.
Standing at my door, freshly showered, hair still damp.
Last night after our impromptu burger dinner turned confessional, he walked me to my apartment, kissed me at the door, and said goodbye. I didn't push him. Didn't ask him to come in. To stay. I didn't want us to bite off more than we could chew. To jump into things too fast or too soon.
Then I regretted it…all night.
And now, he's here.
I look at him—radiant and fresh and…happy.
"Ouch," I say, when my eyes land on his nose and his deep-purple, almost black, eye.
"You should see the other guy," he jokes, his smile in place. "Good morning."
"Good morning," I say as he leans over me. "How's the nose?"
"Not too bad. I iced it and took an ibuprofen." His hand reaches for my face, thumb grazing my cheek.
"Practice doesn't start for another hour or so," I say in almost a whisper.
"I know," he says, inching even closer. I can feel his minty breath caress my mouth. "But then we'll be busy all day, and…I couldn't wait another second."
His lips touch mine, softly at first, the kiss gentle before he deepens it. He cups my face, angling my head as his lips glide against mine, and a groan bubbles up in his throat. Maybe he regrets leaving me last night just as much as I regret not asking him to stay.
"Sorry," he says, pulling back slightly with a smile.
"No need to apologize." My fingers roam down his arm. "Do you want to come in, or did you have something else planned?"
"This is as far as my plan went," he admits with a shy smirk.
"Okay, c'mon…" I grab his hand and pull him inside, closing the door behind him. "Quick house tour. Living. Kitchen." I gesture with my hand as I guide him to my room. "That'd be Emily in there." I point at her room. "Junior, art major like me." I smile at his amused expression. "And a heavy sleeper."
He chuckles as I pull him past her room and the bathroom in between hers and mine.
"And this is me," I add, a little out of breath. I'm nervous. Excited. Dying to have his lips on mine again.
The sun, coming in through my window, shines in his eyes as he takes in my room, his gaze darting from one thing to another until it connects with mine.
"Hi," I say, pulling him to me after he closes the door behind him.
"Hi," he breathes as his lips meet mine.
My hands clasp around his neck while his roam down my back and then grip under my legs, hoisting me up so that they wrap around his waist.
"Fuck, Swan." He grunts against my lips.
"You should have stayed last night." I pant as he kisses my neck while my fingers fist in his hair.
"I didn't know if you wanted to take things slow." His kisses trail down, making me squirm in the best way.
"Do you want to take things slow?" I ask, breathless.
"I don't want to fuck this up." His tone is clipped as his fingers dig into my leg.
Before I can answer him, my phone starts vibrating annoyingly on my nightstand.
"Do you need to take that?" He groans into my neck.
"It's probably my dad."
Edward sets me down immediately, chuckling softly. "Taking it slow it is." He runs a hand in his hair as I grab my phone. "For now…"
"Hey, Dad…" I answer the video call quickly, knowing he'd just keep calling until I do. He calls me every morning, just as he did when I was in Texas. "How are you?" I rest my back against my desk, so the window—and hence not my room, and well, Edward—is behind me.
"Hey, Bells…I'm too old for this shit." He grimaces, showing me his shoulder and a fresh bout of spit-up on his shirt. Man, babies are gross. "What are you up to today?"
"Just getting ready for practice," I say, eying Edward briefly as he shakes his head profusely—in a gesture that he does not want to be in this video call, I assume.
"Did you talk to your Colorado Boy yet? Did you tell him everything? When can I talk to him?" Charlie asks in a rush.
"Dad…" I cut him off before he can embarrass me any further. "I'll call you later, okay? I don't want to be late for practice."
"Just talk to him, sweetie. He'll understand."
"Okay, Dad!" I laugh nervously. Edward looks slightly amused and partly confused. "Bye." I hang up and set the phone down, as Edward slowly approaches me. "Charlie really wants to talk to you," I say through a chuckle. "He feels bad for not having reached out to you."
Edward shrugs, with his smile still in place, stepping in front of me. "I hold no grudges against your dad. I'm thankful he was able to help you." His fingers first tuck my hair behind my ears and then trail down my arms, before he wraps my fingers in his and pulls me to the bed.
He sits on my bed, my hand still in his, and I step between his legs.
"Who's that?" Edward asks suddenly, and I look behind me to the picture on my nightstand, the one of me holding E.J. in my arms back when he was just a couple weeks old.
"That's E.J.," I say with a timid smile, sitting next to Edward. "The newest addition to the Swan family. I still have to tell you about him." I turn to Edward, surprised to find him looking very confused and slightly terrified. "My little brother," I clarify, watching in amusement how relief washes over Edward's face. "Because apparently my father wasn't done having kids at forty."
"Jesus fucking Christ." Edward sighs, dropping his back on my bed.
"What did you think?" I ask through a laugh.
"I don't fucking know!" he says, chuckling harder. "But let's just say I'm very happy to be wrong."
I giggle, dropping next to him, snuggling up to his side. "We have a lot to catch up on."
"We do." He smiles sweetly. We stay like this, lying side by side for a few minutes, his fingers trailing up and down my arm, while I listen to his heart settle.
"I want to show you something." I decide I might as well go all in since we're sharing and all.
"Oh?" He props himself up on his elbows as I leave the bed, heading to the closet to retrieve my box of paintings.
"You know how I said I've been drawing a lot more?" I plop the box on the bed as he sits up, nodding his head softly as he inspects the box. "Well, there are some I made for you…or of you, I guess."
I open the box and sift through the canvases. "This one I made on your birthday, two years ago. It's dark and sad, but it's a representation of how I was feeling then." I show him the charcoal drawing, on rough toothed paper. It's him—his silhouette—being left behind as I walked away from him at the hospital. My eyes water as I watch him inspect the picture, pain clouding his face.
"They didn't start to get happy-ish until about a year or so later." I grab another one for him, this time in pastel. It's us, sitting on our bench, birds on the trees above us. He examines it quietly, and then I give him another one, and another one.
"I explored a bit more with sketches and pencil too." I show him. "I became low-key obsessed with drawing your hands." I flip through the pencil sketches of his grip on my shoes.
He looks at them, still in silence, his eyebrows shooting up on his forehead.
"It's silly, but it was my way of staying connected with you, I guess? Even if I never got to give them to you."
"It's not silly," he finally says. "Swan, these are beautiful. Even the heartbreaking ones."
"I drew this one a couple weeks ago…" I hand him the last one, smiling at him. "On your birthday. I didn't know how a text from me would have been received, not with how we left things after team tryouts…so I didn't send it." It's us stunting in front of Bear Lake. "We didn't get to do that this time, but maybe we will get another chance?"
He smiles with a little sigh, looking back at the picture and then at me.
"So, happy birthday!" I say through the knot in my throat, tears now freely falling.
"C'mere…" He puts the paintings back in the box and pushes it to the side, pulling me to him, wrapping his arms around me and hugging me to his chest.
"They're amazing, Swan," he says into my hair. "You're amazing."
I run my fingers under my eyes, catching a few remaining tears, and look up at him.
"I want to put them up in my room." His smile is broad, pure.
"Really?"
He nods profusely. "And I think I just found my next tattoo."
"Which one?"
He reaches for the box, and without hesitation, pulls out one of the sketches of his hand—the one of his hand, with his fingers wrapped under my shoes.
I die a little. "You'd do that?"
"Just need to decide where…and when." He traces his fingers over the pencil strokes. "Swan, this is so cool. I—" He stops himself, eyes darting between mine.
"I love you," I tell him. I know he might not be ready to say those words to me yet, but I don't want to miss the chance to tell him, especially after all the time we lost together. "It's okay if you can't say it back." I place my hand over his. "You don't have to say it. I know."
"I want to say it…" He closes his eyes, dropping his forehead on mine. "You don't know how badly I do."
I wait for the 'but'...
But there isn't one.
He takes a deep breath instead and intertwines his fingers with mine. "I never stopped loving you, Swan. No matter how hard I tried." When his lips connect with mine, it's everything I hoped for and more.
2 more chapters of these love birds and then we're done. Thank you all for reading! 3
