AN: Welcome back! Big, huge thanks and massive hugs to Brina and May for pre-reading, giving me their insight, and so much more. Ironically, I am horrible with words. I heart you both.

*All mistakes are mine. If you see one I missed, give me a PM, and I'll fix it *.*

Chapter Eleven

-What a Quandary-

When we arrive in Tampa, it's nearly eleven in the evening. Edward has a car waiting, taking us to a five-star hotel. He's reserved the top-floor penthouse for the entire weekend. The suite is gorgeous. It has pale hardwood floors, pristine white walls, a full kitchen, and a window spanning the living room that overlooks the Garrison Channel. In the main bedroom with a California king, there's a walk-in shower and jacuzzi tub that could fit ten people. The best thing about it all is the smell of orange blossoms. It fills my nostrils as my face hits the soft, cloud-like duvet pillows. I'm freshly showered to get all the traveling and leftover chocolate frosting off my skin. The day has been a long one, but mostly, it's been emotionally exhausting.

After Edward and I cleared the air about our past, I got sick again. For the rest of the flight, I spent it hunched over a toilet. Edward stayed close by, ensuring I drank water and giving me some antiemetics Dr. Stewart prescribed. Nothing helped until I was off the plane and had my head in Edward's lap. He was great, talking to me about his favorite memories of the games he's played, what cities he liked the most, and how he couldn't wait to introduce me to his coach and teammates. I was so relaxed with his long fingers going through my hair that I sleepily asked, "Yeah? Why's that?"

Of course, I never stayed up long enough to hear his answer.

In the morning, Edward wakes me up by kissing my forehead, nose, cheeks, and lips. It makes me smile, and before I even open my eyes, I stretch my limbs and wrap them around the large shoulders above me. I don't hesitate to pull him down and back into bed. He smells amazing. My face buries itself into the crook of his neck, and there, I press my lips to the bounding pulse. Edward responds, taking me into his embrace, pulling my body against his, and holding me tight. We stay like this, just enjoying the moment and listening to each other breathe in and out. Slowly, I find myself falling back to sleep, but then, of course, the bzzzzz is so jarring my whole body revolts. Edward's phone in his pocket is vibrating like crazy, swiftly bringing reality and adult obligations bulldoze their way back into our blissful bubble.

He groans. "I've got to go, honey."

"No," I say with a pout, refusing to let go as he tries to pull away. "Stay here."

"Trust me, I want to be here with you, but I'm already behind on a lot of stuff," he says. "The coach will kick my ass if I miss another day."

I turn my head to look for the tableside clock, and it's nothing but a blur. Rubbing my eyes, forcing them to wake up, I look again and frown. "It's barely six in the morning, babe."

Edward shifts back on the bed, allowing me to sit up comfortably, and he replies, "Yeah, it's going to be a long day." He holds me steady while using his hands to smooth down my hair on the side of my head. He beams. "I'm glad to have you here."

"Even though you won't be," I lament.

"It stinks, I know," he replies just as glumly. "All I want to do is stay here and make love to you all day, but duty calls - you know what you should do?"

"Commit myself to this bed and watch Netflix as I pine for you," I say sarcastically. Well, that's legit my plan.

He chuckles. "Solid itinerary, but I thought you could do something more productive."

My brain hadn't completely booted up, so I'm still slow on the uptake. "Like what?" I ask.

Edward's response is to pull out his wallet and hand me his American Express black card.

I narrow my eyes at him. "What's this for?"

"There's this amazing shopping plaza nearby, and I figured you could use some retail therapy," he says, and there's zero awareness behind his actions.

Any girl in my shoes would snatch that card and not think twice. They might not even be bothered to be perceived as a gold digger, but I'm not with Edward for his money, so it feels wrong to take him up on his offer.

"Babe," I say, shaking my head and trying to pull my hand away as he forces it into my palm, "I can't accept this. It's too much."

"Too much?" he scoffs. "Honey, you're my girl, carrying our baby, and as far as I'm concerned, you and I are forever. Nothing would make me happier than seeing you help me spend some of this money." He brushes his lips against mine and smiles. "It's an amazing rush to drop ten thousand dollars in a store. Trust me."

Edward comes out as quite sincere. His green eyes frequently change hue depending on how he feels, but in this light, they are a faint shade of green that is almost blue.

"Are you sure?" I ask, my hand cupping his face.

He covers my touch with his own and smiles. "Positive."

"Fine, you've twisted my arm."

"I bet," he says, leaning in to kiss me.

What begins as a simple harmless peck becomes much more. As usual, our desire for one another has been growing for years and is now expressed in a frenzy. Edward cups my breast after slipping his hand up my shirt. His thumb touches my hardening nipple inanely. I grip his neck as I pull him down again. He gives no resistance and puts all his weight on me, his mouth pressing firmly into mine. I suddenly remember that I haven't cleaned my teeth and am subjecting this poor man to my foul morning breath when he tastes like mint toothpaste.

When I turn away from the kiss, his lips touch my neck, and he continues to nibble and suck. I'm about two seconds away from making love to him when his phone buzzes, ruining the moment. His stiff muscles reveal his frustration. Edward snarls and pulls himself up.

He sighs and murmurs, "Fuck," smoothing out the creases in his forehead with his fingers through his hair. "You know, this job used to be less of a pain in my ass."

The size of my cocky grin, in return, makes him laugh.

"Yeah, you're a bad influence," Edward says, making the mistake of kissing me. And I have no qualms about keeping him in this bed. The phone doesn't stop vibrating, though. It'll continue to do so unless he leaves. He stands up and strides away from me and toward the door despite my sulking. "I'll send a car to pick you up around noon, okay?"

All I do is nod.

If I were to speak, my emotions would get the best of me, and I don't want him to feel bad for going to work. Edward's got enough stress in his life without me piling it on.

"Bye, honey." He picks up his gym bag and slings it over his shoulder, but he stands still in the doorway.

Everything in me aches for him, and I can see how he hesitates to move. He wants me just as badly.

"Go, I'll be fine," I say, reassuring him with a smile as I hold up his card. "I've got plans, remember?"

Edward wants to kiss me again. I can see his body moving in my direction, but it's his phone, which is going off non-stop, that gets him to turn his feet away. He rushes out, and I hear him answering the call in his deep, sensual voice: "Calm down, I'm on my way."

The front door opens and closes, and even though I want to follow him, I force myself to stay in bed. "Ugh, why is your Daddy so gorgeous?" I say to our little nugget, flinging myself back into bed, entangling my legs in the plush comforter, and rolling over on my stomach.

My plans to mope and binge on Netflix Originals aren't happening, but I am determined to get an hour or two of sleep before I'm forced out into the world to shop.

Yes, I know the flipping horror of it all.

At noon, on the dot, a black SUV picks me up at the hotel and whisks me to an upscale shopping plaza. The only place I can compare it to is The Braven in Seattle. I went there a few times with Alice to window shop high-end stores like Gucci, Hermès, Louis Vuitton, and many more that I could never afford. Not to say it wasn't fun. Alice and I had a blast walking around and eating the most delicious cupcakes at the Trophy Bakery.

However, doing this by myself makes me feel out of place. I tried to look like I belonged, dressing in the only designer clothes I owned and even straightening my hair, but I couldn't help but feel people staring at me. It's probably my imagination. The pregnancy has made me more self-conscious than ever, and it takes a real effort to reel in those irrational feelings.

So, I decide, after getting a decaf caramel frappe, to call Alice. She's the voice of reason in my life, and not seeing her on a daily basis makes me miss her. The time in Seattle is three hours behind, and I hope she's up. It's still early for a late sleeper like Alice.

On the third ring, she answers. "Hey, Mama. How are you and that gorgeous Edward of yours doing?"

"Beyond amazing," I say, sipping my drink and pondering around the mall. "I can't seem to get enough of this man. In fact, I'm in Florida."

There's a long pause as my words is being processed by my best friend, and I can only imagine the thoughts going through her brain.

Absolute disbelief, probably.

She doesn't disappoint. "You actually went?"

Everything in my life was filtered through Alice. I had told her about Edward asking me to join him, and at the time, I was still on the fence.

"Yeah, you know, Edward showed up at my appointment," I say.

Alice says, "Yeah, I saw the pictures."

Now, instead of me posting on Facebook to update my friends and family on the happenings of my life, the gossip mags have decided to make it more impersonal by snapping pictures without my consent and posting them online for the world to consume.

"So crazy," I murmur, mostly to myself. "Anyway, so Edward shows up at my appointment, and he's saying, 'Our baby this and our baby that,' and I'm done for—a pile of goo. After that, I had no choice." That still doesn't quite articulate the roller coaster I have been on. "I would have been stupid to turn him down, you know?"

"Hmm, all I can say is that I'm proud of you, B," Alice says.

"Really? Why?" I ask, nervously chewing on my straw.

"You don't take chances. Ever since I've known you, you've always been too forward-minded to do anything on a whim. Mike asked you to go to Paris with him last year, and you broke up with him."

I laughed and rolled my eyes. "First of all, I told him I couldn't go because I didn't have a passport."

"Which you could've easily gotten."

"Perhaps," I say, moving out of a lady's way as she jostles past me, nearly knocking me over. "But that's not why we broke up. I caught him sleeping with another girl."

"Thank God for small blessings. That guy was a wanker," Alice says.

Another person who wasn't a Mike fan, and it was funny to me now, but at the time, I wasn't amused. Besides, Edward isn't like any of the losers I've dated.

"The circumstances are different," I say.

"It's because he's 'the one.' That's why you're willing to fly off to Florida on a minute's notice. I'm just proud of you for following your heart for once and not that overly cautious head."

The plaza fills with shoppers, and I sit at the nearest bench to get out of their way. I'm still too hesitant to buy anything with Edward's money. The drink in my hand is no exception, and I bought it with my debit card. What would I even get, though? There's nothing that I desperately want or need. I guess that's not the point of retail therapy.

I sigh. "So, guess what?"

"You're pregnant," Alice says, giggling to herself.

"Yes, I am, but noooo, something else," I say, but I don't give her a chance to guess before I blurt it out. "Edward said he loved me." Alice squeals so loud that I have to pull the phone away from my ear. "Are you done?"

"Oh, my god! I knew he did, but good for him for saying it," she says and immediately shifts gears, her voice turning wary. "Please, oh, please, tell me you said it back."

Of course, I said it back, I think—like her believing that I wouldn't was silly, but she knew me better than anyone, which was pretty on par. So, I tell her everything about his graduation night, our fight, and how Edward had feelings for me when we were kids but never acted on them because of our ages.

"Is it dumb to be upset with him for making me think it was one-sided?" I ask, tossing my empty cup in the trash.

"Oh, Belly." Alice laughs. "That boy wouldn't stand a chance to do the right thing if you knew he was into you."

"That's not true," I say, but it's unconvincing. "I would have respected his decision not to do anything until I was older."

Alice scoffs. "After you told me about that little pink number you wore to his birthday party, I highly doubt that."

"It was a pool party, not his birthday," I correct ... for some reason.

"Whatever. My point is, why does it matter? The timing wasn't right. He needed to attend college to be an NFL god, and you had to experience life without him. Yes, you were both in love, but would it have been enough back then? I don't think so."

"You're right," I say, knowing full well that focusing on the past wastes time. "I'm just...ugh, overly... " I sigh and put on a smile she can't see. "Anyway, I have a dilemma, and I need your advice."

"Shoot."

"If your boyfriend gave you his black card to spend however you wanted, what store would you go to first?"

"If we were at The Brazen, you know I would go straight to Prada," Alice says, and she realizes this isn't a hypothetical question. "Shut up! Edward gave you his black card, as in, no limit?"

"Yeah, he gave it to me this morning and told me to go nuts, but I've been stalling for the last hour and a half. I don't know what to buy or if I even should buy something."

Alice says, "Ugh, this man gets hotter by the second, and I totally understand why you're hesitant to spend his money. However, when will you ever get the chance to shop at Prada? Or Gucci, for that matter. Look, I'm not trying to tell you what to do, but is he expecting you to buy something?"

I grimace. "Sort of."

"What does that mean?"

"He told me dropping ten grand in a store was a rush."

"Well, there's your answer."

After hanging up the phone with Alice, I walked the length of the plaza about two times until, finally, I ended up in a Hermès store. The clerk smiles politely as I enter, but I don't browse. My focus is on the jewelry counter. In my mind, I see Edward's wristwatch. It has a white dial and a black alligator leather strap. I'm looking for the women's equivalence. The pieces are beautiful, and I finally see one that fits the bill. It's not exact. The female version is smaller and has platinum gold accents and diamonds encircling the face, but overall, it's pretty dang close.

"Excuse me," I say, getting the clerk's attention. She comes over and raises her eyebrows expectantly. That causes me to stutter. "Um, can I please see this watch, the um, the Cape Cod?"

"Cape Cod?" she repeats with disbelief.

"Yes, um," my finger points at the watch below the glass, "that one, right there."

She says nothing but opens the case and brings the Cape Cod out. Up close, it's gorgeous, and I knew right away that this was something I wanted to buy. She removes it from the velvet display stand and hands it to me. I'm in awe of the feel of the soft leather and the overall size of it. The clerk eyes me closely as I put it on my wrist. I don't look, but there are two security guards behind me waiting to pounce just in case I try to make a run for it.

"I'll take it," I say, unfastening the watch and handing it back to the clerk.

She's unable to hide her skepticism. "You want to purchase this?"

I nod and smile. "And I'm going to wear it out, so I won't need a bag."

"All right," the clerk says, and I expect a 'Pretty Woman' moment where she tells me to pound dirt, but she takes me over to the register. When she scans the piece and all the necessary taxes are added, she hits enter, and the total comes up. "That will be 7,901.25."

The brutal beating of my heart pounds against my chest as I pretend to be unfazed. "Cool." I pull out Edward's card and put the chip into the machine. It goes through, to the clerk's surprise. The screen asks me to sign, and I just do a little scribble. I'm praying the clerk doesn't look at the name on the receipt, but she doesn't, ripping off the printer and handing it over to me along with the watch.

"Thank you," I say.

"Have a great day, miss," she replies and waves as I leave.

As promised, I'm two feet out of the store when I take it out of its box and put it back on my wrist. The time, thankfully, is correct, and I smile at my most expensive purchase. There's a mixture of guilt and excitement because I can't wait to show Edward. He might not think it's a big deal, but I love the idea of matching with him.

Nearing three in the afternoon, I'm starting to grow restless. No calls or texts came in from Edward. Nine hours have passed, yet it feels like a lifetime. How on earth could I go two months without speaking to him, much less eight years? Again, my feelings have shifted so dramatically that if we were to part, I wouldn't survive it—and that's not me being hyperbolic, either. No, I fear heartbreak, and even thinking about it makes my heart clench so tightly that I have a panic attack. That stress leads to me getting sick and rushing to the nearest restroom. Of course, I choose the single toilet one and dispel all the worries and frustrations. Besides the "morning" sickness, the hardest thing was my foolish emotions and overly analytical mind. One minor issue sends me into a spiral. I hate it: the uncertainty, the doubting, and all of this pointless drama.

Will things ever get simpler?

I can finally get the willpower to get myself together and exit the restroom as the vomiting subsides. I don't want to shop anymore and leave the mall, where the fresh air and warm sun immediately make me feel better. I locate a table and sit down while pulling out my phone. There are still no calls or anything. The moment I start to text Edward to break the awkward silence, my phone rings.

It's him, and I don't let it ring again before I answer. "Hey, babe!" I am so elated, and all that stress is released. "It's about time you called me."

He responds, "Fuck, I know," his tone makes it clear that he has also experienced pain since this morning. "I've been trying to get away all day, but the coach made us lock up our phones." Then he pauses as if something in my voice caught his attention. "Is everything okay with you?"

I nod while biting my lip. "Yeah," I reply. Simply put, "I just missed you."

"I've been missing you."

I try to sound more upbeat as I straighten my back and wipe a silly tear away. "So, how's it going?"

"Better now. We finished up early, so I was wondering if you wanted to come down to the stadium, and I could introduce you to some people."

"Sure, that sounds great," I say.

"Beautiful. Your driver should still be nearby. Where are you?"

I glance around for landmarks. "I'm outside by the fountain."

There's a bit of a clicking noise on Edward's line.

"He knows where that is," he says. "All right, honey. The driver should be pulling out front in a minute. Why don't you head that way, and I'll see you in ten."

"Okay," I say, rising to my feet and walking toward the parking lot. "See you soon."

Before I can hang up, Edward quickly says, "I forgot to tell you before I left this morning that I love you."

I blush a million different shades of red. "I love you, too."

"Tell me again," he says.

There was a time, not too long ago, when I told him these words repeatedly in my head. I had so desperately wanted him to know how I felt, and now, each time I said it out loud, it freed my heart more and more.

"I love you, Edward," I say slowly and deliberately, hoping to express it in every syllable. "And not as a brother, but as a boyfriend."

He chuckles, then groans. "I was a fucking idiot."

"Yes, you were," I say jokingly, and any anger I felt is now gone, "but I was trouble."

"You still are," he says. "No other woman has ever made me hate going to work."

I shrug and smile. "If you're expecting an apology, you'll wait a long time."

"It's a good thing, then. I don't want you to be sorry."

I sprint up to the SUV parked on the curb and enter. Two dozen long-stemmed red roses are arranged in a lovely bouquet and are sitting in the backseat next to me on the driver's side. I still have the phone to my ear while I open the card and begin reading. It's typed, not handwritten, but the message is clear: Tell me how to stop thinking of you.

Of course, anything can set me off, so I deflect it with humor. "Your driver just gave me two dozen roses. Should I shoot my shot?"

The driver stares back at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes crinkling with a sly grin.

"The man has great taste, but you're my girl, Swan."

"That's a 'no, then?"

Edward laughs. "Yeah, it's a 'no,' honey." There's commotion in the background, and someone is saying something to him. All I could make out was, 'Cullen, get your something curse word.' After that, I couldn't hear much. Edward tells them, "Yeah, yeah," then it gets quiet. "So, you should be here any minute now. I'll be upfront, waiting for you."

"Okay, babe. See you in a minute," I say, and we disconnect the call.

My nose is deep in the roses when the driver clears his throat to gain my attention. We lock eyes in the rearview mirror. I smile at him, and he smiles back.

"I'm Troy," he says.

"Hi, Troy. I'm Bella."

He nods. "Yeah, I know."

My face heats up. "Of course you do," I say. "You've been driving me around all day."

Troy dims the radio even more until there's nothing more than road noise. "I'm mostly local here in Tampa, but if clients like me, they can always request me through my company."

"Oh," I say, slightly confused about why he told me this. "That's cool. So, Edward requests you often?"

"Every time he's been in Tampa for the past three years," he says.

It dawns on me where this is going, and I can't help but ask. "So, is he a player off the field like all the magazines suggest?"

Troy jerks his head back in surprise. "Mr. Cullen? No way."

"Really, no girls?" I ask. Troy shakes his head. "Not even his fiancé?"

"This is the first time I've ever driven someone other than Mr. Cullen. But I'm only here in Tampa." He pauses, hesitates for a moment, then decides to ask me. "I don't want to step out of line, and I wouldn't say anything unless I were positive, but does 'Bruiser' mean anything to you?"

I gasp as my eyes go wide. "How do you know that name?"

"So, it is a name." Troy lets out a relieved breath and then smiles at me. "There are two times that I can recall that 'Bruiser' came up. The first time was three years ago, and I remember it so clearly because of how odd it sounded. He was drunk, very upset, and said, 'You had to go and get beautiful on me, didn't you, Bruiser?'"

"And the second time?" I ask.

Troy's reluctant to tell me this part, but he's started something, and I will not let him drop it. "It was around this time last year, and he was scrolling on his phone and said something along the lines of, 'She's in love with some tool, Troy!' and when I asked him who, he said, 'The girl I'm meant to be with, fucking Bruiser.'"

Sadly, that tool was Mike. We were together around that time Troy was talking about it. I posted pictures of us at a Halloween party. Mike and I had dressed up as Romeo and Juliet. The caption I wrote under that was: My love for now and always. It's embarrassing to see how I gushed over that bum for so long, but I didn't think Edward was a possibility, so I moved on—albeit not wisely.

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask.

Troy sighs heavily. "It's none of my business to get involved in a client's life, but Mr. Cullen is a good man. He always tips me generously, sends me a Christmas card with a thousand-dollar bonus, and just treats me well. I've seen him during his highs, which was this morning when I drove him to work, and at his lows—those were mostly when he was distraught over a girl named 'Bruiser.'"

The front of the stadium comes into view, and Edward is standing on the curb with his hands buried in his pockets. He looks so boyish, like the polite, sweet teenage boy I grew up with in a small town called Forks.

"I'm not going to break his heart," I say, grabbing my roses as the SUV stops.

As I slide across the seat toward the door, Troy catches my eyes in the rearview mirror and says, "No, his 'Bruiser' wouldn't."

As the door opens, Edward grabs me by the waist and yanks me into his arms. He says, "There she is," and quickly kisses me. "You look beautiful, honey."

I smile at him and lamely reply, "So do you."

He chuckles but then redirects his focus to Troy. "Hey, man, thanks for picking up my girl."

"And the roses," I say.

"Not a problem, Mr. Cullen." Troy tips his head at me and says, "Happy to do it."

Edward reaches into his wallet, pulls out three crisp hundred-dollar bills, and hands them to Troy. "Are you going to be around later to drive us to dinner, around eight or so?"

"Text me when and where, and I'll be there," Troy says.

"Perfect. Thanks again, my man," Edward says this and closes the door. He throws his arm around my shoulders as the SUV drives off. "You look hungry. Let's grab some food."

It's Friday afternoon, and no one is at Raymond James Stadium. In addition to the arena they utilize in between games, the opposing football team also has its own training facility. Typically, each team stays at home after games to train for the next round and then fly out. Edward tried explaining why the Seahawks were here before Sunday's game, but I wasn't paying attention. His massive hand on my hip had taken all my focus. He left it there as we moved silently through the corridors. In juxtaposition to his enormous frame, I felt small. The last time I saw Edward, he was seventeen years old, tall, muscular, and still looked like a boy. That young man developed into a man, growing larger on all sides. I liked how big he was compared to me. My man could toss me around and, if need be, hold me up against a wall or just in his arms while he made love to me—which is why I had trouble focusing. I let my thoughts stray too much, and I often found them going right into the gutter.

"So, the coach ordered some food for us about twenty minutes ago. The boys are probably still in there eating," Edward says casually. I slow down our brisk walk until we're entirely stopped. He narrows his eyes at me. "What's wrong?"

"They're okay with me crashing their lunch?"

Edward grins as he takes my hand and pulls me forward. "Yes, honey."

"Okay," I say, still unsure, but allow him to drag me along anyway.

However, Edward doesn't take me there first. We go down below the stadium, where the locker rooms are, and I'm confused about why he's taking me there. It all makes sense when he takes my roses and places them gently into his locker. We don't stay long, and I'm glad. The room is dark and dingy and feels unwelcoming. There are no colors on the wall; the lockers are steel cages, and the plastic chairs look like they'll collapse under the slightest distress.

"That's not how they portray locker rooms in movies," I say.

"Yeah, they suck, and that's why we like training at home better, but the coach has his wild ideas about things," Edward says.

"Is the Seahawks locker room better than that?"

"By far," Edward says. "For one, it's bigger. We have carpet, and all us players have personal lockers made out of nice wood, not that caged shit."

"And my roses will be safe down there?" I ask.

He stops and turns to face me. "Honey, before we go in there," he jerks his head behind him where it says, 'Luxury Suite 2,' "I got to ask you for a favor."

"Okay," I say, placing my hand on his neck and pulling him closer to me. "What is it?"

"If the coach asks, we're staying in separate hotel rooms."

My forehead bunches up in confusion. "What?"

"It's a stupid rule that never used to make sense to me, but after this morning, I understand why it exists."

"Um, babe, I'm still kind of lost. Why would he ask that, and why do we need to lie?"

"Something about fraternizing and losing focus. I'm not sure. The point is, I shouldn't have done it last night, and if he knows we're not in separate rooms, he'll force me to send you home."

"What?" My mouth hangs open in shock. "He can't do that."

I want to look away from Edward's too-serious eyes because they are so intense, yet he draws me in. "He's the coach, honey. If I break the rules and he finds out, I could be benched."

"You're the best player on that team, Edward. Benching their star is like career suicide."

"Coach is a good guy, but rules are rules, and they're made for a reason."

I'm shaking my head, stunned by what he's telling me. "So, what does that mean?"

"You keep the penthouse, but I have to get a different room tonight."

That ache in my heart is similar to the pain of a break but not as damaging. "Babe, I don't want to sleep without you."

Edward grabs my hair by the fistfuls and pulls me to him. Although the kiss is intended as an apology, it worsens my situation. Without him, how am I going to get through this weekend? I mean, I won't ever see him the way things are going with him being gone all day, and now we can't even spend our nights together. Why did I travel to Florida in the first place?

When he finally turns away, his forehead touches mine, and he lets out an almost dejected sigh. "If you want to leave, I'll understand."

"I don't want to go home," I declare, my emotions frayed but gnawing at the surface.

"Then don't go." He lovingly kisses my pout. "Please, stay."

Closing my eyes, I let him convince me with his mouth. It doesn't take long for me to break down. "I'll stay," I whisper.

He smiles while very slightly pulling back. "Yeah? You mean that?" I nod. He kisses me again, but briefly. "Thank you."

"But is this how it's going to be for me?" I ask, and his brows turn downward. "Always missing you?"

"I promise it's not forever, honey," he says, straightening his back and once again towering over me. His eyes glance down as he retakes my hand, but something sparkly catches his eye. He brings my arm up to get a better look at my watch. "Did you buy this today?"

I smile, blushing furiously. "Yeah, I wanted something to..."

"It matches my Hermès," Edward finishes my sentence, holding his watch up to mine, putting them side by side, and showing how spot-on they were. "It looks good on you, Bruiser."

"Yeah? Who knew you had such great taste?" I say, playfully nudging him in the ribs with my elbow.

He laughs, tucking me close and walking us back toward the suite. "Well, I'm glad I bought it for you then."

"Touché."

When we enter the room, it looks bigger than the box seat in Seattle. A few players look up from their meals, and then there is silence. I try to look brave while forcing a smile, but I'm utterly terrified. Since most people only get one chance to make a first impression, I want to do my best. As he searches the room for the person he needs, Edward makes a beeline for them. I take it that the person in question is the coach. He's around twenty years older and the only person sporting a polo shirt with the team's insignia on the breast pocket. He gets up from his chair and extends his hand to me as Edward and I draw near.

"Hey, there," he says with a genuine smile and a firm handshake, "I'm Coach Biers. You must be Bella."

"Yes, sir," I say, matching his warm energy. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," he says.

"And I can't thank you enough for allowing Edward to be at our first doctor's appointment."

Coach Biers waves me off. "Pshh, please don't mention it. I know how important it is for a man to be there for his family."

"I couldn't agree more, Coach," Edward says.

The two share a moment, and there's genuine respect between them. I know Edward and Coach Biers are also dear friends.

The attention is on me as I say, "Anyway, Coach Biers, I appreciate what you did." Although it's too early to see or feel the baby, I know they're there, my tiny nugget, and I smile as my palm instinctively reaches for my stomach. "Having him there meant a lot to me."

Edward neatly tucks a piece of my wayward hair behind my ear after brushing it away. The touching moment doesn't go unnoticed.

"Have you eaten, Bella?" the coach asks after clearing his throat.

I shake my head. "No, sir."

He glares at Edward and snaps, "EC, get your lady some food!"

Edward responds, "Yes, Coach," and flies off in the direction of the enormous spread in the back.

Coach Biers gives me a wink and softly pulls me toward the seat next to him. "So, Bella, EC says you're in your final year of college," he says.

"Um, yes," I fumble my fingers in my lap apprehensively. "I'm getting my business degree and graduating in May."

"Wow, that's great. What are your plans once you graduate?"

The coach appears interested when I tell him about my internship, but I get a hunch that this is just an icebreaker. He still hasn't asked me the question he really wants to, and I wait impatiently for the coach to open his mouth when suddenly a drink is placed in front of me.

My eyes immediately turn to the football player seated next to my table. I smile and respond, "Thanks."

"Hi!" The large man thrusts his hand out to me. "I'm Seth Clearwater, a wide receiver for the Seahawks.

I say, "Clearwater," and we shake hands. "Are you a Quileute?"

He grins, showcasing all his teeth, and as I look at him with his russet skin and jet-black hair, I know I'm right. "La Push native, born and nurtured. I got drafted a few years ago," he says.

"That's so awesome, Seth. You know, Edward and I come from Forks," I say.

"You did, too? That's rad. Small world." His grin grew larger and more expansive. "You know, my cousin Jared is kind of a legend in Forks. He threw that epic party in 2014."

My eyes widen as I point and snap my fingers at him. "Oh, my gosh! I was there!"

Seth tilts his head to the side, trying to place me. "You were?"

"Yeah, I'm Emmett Swan's sister, Bella."

Everything clicks for him, then. "No shit, you're Em's little sis, and you..." He turns his head and comes face-to-face with Edward. "Yo, EC, I didn't know this Bella was the same Bella."

Edward pats him on the shoulder as he sets my plate down. "No worries, C-man."

Seth has lost his earlier enthusiasm and is now cautious and solemn. "Well, anyway, it was nice meeting you, Bella," he says, quickly walking away while hiding his head.

"You too," I say after him, but my voice is lost in the din of conversation. When Edward places his hand on my knee, I turn to face him. "What was that all about?"

He leans close, his mouth pressed against my ear, and whispers, "It's no secret that you were obsessed with me, Bruiser."

"Oh, right," I snort, pushing him away. "What was it that they called me back home?"

Edward pokes his spork into my mashed potatoes and gravy. "A stray cat, I believe." He shoves it into his mouth and grins.

I shake my head. "Why in the heck do I love you?"

"Because I'm beautiful," he quips back.

"Are you sure about that?" I say, picking up my napkin and wiping gravy off his mouth. His green eyes bore into mine, and my heart thumps. Yeah, he's beautiful, and the brat knows it. "Why are you eating my food?"

"Because it bugs you," he says, taking another sporkful of my corn now.

I roll my eyes and nudge him away from me with my shoulder. "You're not only depriving me of nutrients but your baby as well."

That seems to have changed his behavior; it is no longer a joke. He shifts into caring boyfriend mode. "Shit, you're right. I'm sorry. I'll go get more."

He moves to stand, but I grab his hand and coax him back into his seat. "Stop it. I'm joking."

Edward relaxes back into me as more teammates come to our table and introduce themselves. They're all lovely and around my age, which surprised me for some reason. Most of the boys I went to college with were political activists who dropped their beliefs to party on the weekends. These men are accomplished and professional athletes. The maturity and respect they show are beyond their years. I'm not naive; I know they like to party, too, but many of these guys are married with children—like 60% of the team. I wonder if that's a prerequisite to playing in the NFL, and Edward is just a late bloomer.

"So, Bella, you're excited about the game this Sunday?" Coach Biers asks.

"Yes, I am very excited," I say. My eyes narrow as a thought only now occurs to me. "But don't I need a ticket, though?"

Edward gathers our plates in his hand as he stands up. "No, honey. Wives and girlfriends get special seating," he says, but leaves to throw away our trash before I can ask a follow-up question.

I stare at him, dumbfounded. "Special seating?"

Coach Biers adds, "Typically, wives and girlfriends will sit with each other, but either way, if it's an away game or at home, the family of the players gets discounted tickets unless someone requests a pass in time."

"That makes sense," I say. "How much will my ticket cost?"

"Nothing," Coach Biers says. "EC got a pass for you earlier this week."

"When did he request this pass for me?" I ask, keeping my eyes on Edward; he's across the room and out of earshot.

"Tuesday morning, I believe," Coach Biers says.

I smirked, knowing full well that when he requested that ticket, he had just found out I was pregnant. "He's pretty sure of his outcomes, isn't he?"

"EC knows where the ball will land before he throws it," Coach Biers says. "And you are no different, my dear."

AN: Thanks for reading. I'll see ya soon.