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Scheduled for Friday
by Anton M.

45: Playing House

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Saturday, February 11 (cont.)

Edward got up. I barely got a view of the top half of his gorgeous naked ass before he stood up in his gray sweatpants and hovered over me. There was a warning in his eyes even if his kiss lingered.

"Stay here."

He unlocked and opened the door in a way that didn't reveal me on his bed, and I felt my heart pounding as the door clicked shut behind him, but he reappeared not even a minute later with the biggest smile on his face.

"It's gramps," he said, visibly relieved. "He's dropping off some stuff but I didn't see his message. I'll just grab a quick shower. Stay here or join us in the kitchen, up to you."

He wasn't kidding about his quick shower. I heard the shower turn off only a few minutes after it turned on, and Edward slipped back into the room to give me an old, clean towel, gran-gran's pajama pants covered in giant yellow tulips and a happy, quick kiss. Painfully aware of what a message a shower might've been sending, I nevertheless had a short one in their cramped, permanently stained bathroom. The plumbing functioned as it should've, and an attempt had been made to maintain the bathroom, but the place clearly needed a thorough cleaning.

I had to roll up the edges of gran-gran's pajama pants but they were otherwise fine.

Having left the towel on top of Edward's door, I walked through the hallway when I heard quiet voices coming from the kitchen.

"But have you thought about it?"

Edward's exhale answered the question for him. "I don't want to change schools again, gramps. Would be stupid to transfer four months from graduation."

This information took me by such surprise that I stopped walking to blatantly eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Is it Riley, Carl or your friends?" Edward Senior paused, lowering his voice. "Or Bella?"

"It's none of them. Second to Roswell, Willie W. Smith has the best chess mentor, and Woody Gap has, what, sixty students? It's the smallest public school in Georgia, gramps. They couldn't give me a fifth of the IB courses I'm taking."

"You cannot stay here."

"I can and I will. It's fine. Nothing has changed this year that wasn't shit since fall."

"And everything's changed since you got yourself a girlfriend."

"Of course it has! She's the best fucking thing that's— gramps." Edward sighed, lowering his voice. "I'm not going to lie and say she wasn't a part of this decision. She's, she's—amazing, and talented as fuck, kind and beautiful and so busy I would not get the time of day if I moved to Union County. But give me some credit, here. Woody Gap would kill my chess and my IB diploma program. You can't deny that."

"I am not going to. Frankly, it's the first time since Liz passed that you got a real smile on your face, and maybe… maybe that's worth more than you moving away from Carl. Liz would've adored her."

"Yeah?" Edward asked, his voice rough but restrained.

"You know it, Junior."

I heard shuffling and a heavy sigh.

"Did you at least make yourself a bank account separate from Carl?"

"On my birthday."

"Different bank?"

"I'm not an idiot."

"Give me your account details."

"Gramps—"

"You can refuse to come live with me but you cannot keep me from helping you. Please. There are so many ways in which everyone has failed you, do not let me be one of them."

Morbid curiosity wouldn't let me move from my spot as I stood, frozen, waiting as gramps, no doubt, wrote down Edward's bank account details.

"Does she know?" gramps asked, quieter.

"No," Edward replied. "It's been such a—I didn't want to ruin the evening with a discussion that would last until dawn. She'll meet him tomorrow. We'll talk after." He paused in the shuffle of plastic bags and the fridge door. "She knows something's up, though."

"I bet she does. That girl's bright, making up a gambit for you."

Edward mumbled something that made his grandfather laugh.

"It's a good thing, Junior. You are so guarded and in control all the time, let yourself be lost. What's first love if it doesn't knock you off your feet?"

Once again, I couldn't hear Edward's response, but gramps had warmth all over his voice. "All the better. She's a real gem, that one. Are you worried she'll break up with you?"

"Fuck I hope not. I don't think it's something she'd do. But Emmett would be stupid to let her stay over again once they know."

Gramps hummed. "Did you make sure she didn't take anything valuable here?"

"Don't think she owns much valuable stuff—except her phone. I'm keeping an eye on it."

Head buzzing with this new information, I waited until they switched topics to (open and) close the bathroom door a bit louder, announcing my presence. I walked to the kitchen. Edward was finishing putting away (what looked like) multiple bags of groceries from his grandfather while Senior's face lit up. His wavy white hair pointed in all directions, the familiar red puffer jacket was unzipped over his large belly, and his smile was wide.

"We meet again," he said, pulling me into a half-hug. "Junior here was just telling me that he expects you to voice every character in a Pixar movie one day. The credits would read 'Voice Acting: Bella Swan', people would ask, 'Which character?' and we'd say, 'All of them.'"

I grinned, deciding against a discussion about my SAG-AFTRA approved mononym. "Thank you. If only you knew how many goats I sacrificed to achieve this voice."

Edward's eyes twinkled with affection when I settled by his side. "It's the truth," he whispered, casually taking my hand in his, playing with my fingers as we spoke to Edward's grandfather. Gramps, although not commenting on us being together, clearly had joy in his eyes, and if he disapproved of my overnight stay, he didn't show it. But, mid-conversation, Edward discovered I'd been barefoot the entire evening, and he made me wash my feet before giving me a pair of slippers that had belonged to his gran-gran (I categorically refused to wear my boots inside). My mom would've teleported to the hallway just to scream at me in Vietnamese had I worn my outside shoes inside the house.

It was only ten o'clock when gramps locked the door behind himself. Edward re-entered the security code before we shut off all the lights and slid under a blanket on the couch. It was such an alien situation, sleeping in a house I'd visited a few years ago, and feeling… at home, in spite of everything, surrounded by Edward's scent and the sound of waves crashing to the shore.

"I'm sorry the couch is shit," Edward apologized, facing me on his side. "I couldn't even tell you which decade it's from."

I scooted into his arms until I rested my head against his pillow. A flurry of fireflies lit up in my heart when he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me flush against his bare chest. Even having made out in his room for as long as we did didn't reduce this surreal, breathtaking ache I felt to always be closer to him.

"I don't mind. I've slept on worse surfaces."

He kissed the tip of my nose, and I became very aware of his warm, fit body wrapped around mine as my eyes adjusted to the dim light. We intertwined our legs. Goosebumps arose on my neck at his rough, tender fingertips creating casual drawings on my back.

"How come Riley didn't wake up to our conversation?" I whispered.

"He's more uncomfortable with silence than talking. Quickest he wakes up is when my laptop dies or when people stop talking. It's because—"

Edward cut himself off, probably not eager to discuss Riley's abandonment issues around the boy, even if he was asleep.

"I know," I replied.

I enjoyed the tingling as I brushed my palm over his buzz cut, and Edward practically purred into my ear, clearly enjoying my touch. I kissed him, hoping he wouldn't be too mad at my next words.

"I overheard your conversation with gramps. I—shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

Edward stiffened, but barely, and then he slumped.

"How much did you hear?"

"The moving and the—bank account, and… making sure I didn't take any valuables here."

My fog of confusion had cleared since I'd heard Edward and gramps talk. I'd had it wrong. All the aspects of Edward's life that I'd assigned to Edward's dad not trusting him were probably a total inverse of reality.

The problem was not that Edward's dad didn't trust him. The problem was that Edward didn't trust his dad.

Keeping his motorcycle in Billy's garage might not have been because they didn't have a garage, it might've been to keep it safe from Edward's father—why else would Edward have made me put my expensive helmet in there? He could've kept his gifts at our place for the same reason, and all these angular spots on their wallpaper from missing furniture and the absent LED TV suddenly got a new meaning. The fact that Riley was in Edward's care and not his father's only increased my suspicions. His words from Thursday, too, 'I can't keep showing up at home with random expensive gear,' they haunted me.

Edward's dad couldn't be trusted, but why? Was he a gambler, an alcoholic, an addict? Unemployed and a shit person? Did he have a job? Had he stolen money from Edward in the past—enough for Edward to feel the need to create a separate bank account the moment his dad couldn't legally access his money? Was his dad violent or angry?

Painfully aware of his silence, I brushed my thumb over his eyebrow piercing. "I'm sorry I eavesdropped. You can be mad. It was just—such new information, so I got, I got curious. I have—a thousand questions, but I didn't tell you to demand answers. We'll talk tomorrow. I just wanted you to know."

I almost startled as I realized that Edward and I had, among other concerns, the same worry over wanting to discuss our fathers (or sperm donors, as it were). Neither of us, it seemed, actually wanted to keep secrets from each other but sharing whatever we wished to share would've sucked up the whole night, whichever father we picked.

But he'd taught me to be patient, or at least more patient, and I didn't want to push him since he'd been an absolute saint about my NDA.

"Feather-heart," Edward muttered, voice rumbly and beautiful. "You are—surreal."

Our noses smushed together as he kissed me, and I melted into the cuddly, quiet make-out session that filled me with a fierce need to kiss him harder and press him closer. His body, all wide shoulders and strong arms, gave me so much gorgeous bare skin to touch, and Edward practically hissed against my ear when I brushed my fingertips over the muscles on his back and squeezed his neck. When I parted my legs to feel his hard-on exactly where I wanted it, Edward groaned but lowered his face against the side of mine, panting, speaking straight into my ear.

"Baby we can't."

Breathing just as hard, I wrapped my limbs around him and kissed his neck.

"I know."

We remained in our snuggly, full-body hug for a few minutes as our heart rates slowed down. Edward rolled us on our sides, caressed my hair and nuzzled my cheek. Even without seeing his face, I could tell he was smiling. I melted in his tender touch even if he distracted me with topics of tutoring, my parents, Alice, and the expected increase of my work hours, and I asked him questions of my own without touching the subject of his father. I had no clue how late it was when he pressed my back against his chest and snuggled his chin into the crook of my neck.

"Still can't believe you're here," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss against my skin. "Thank you for staying with me tonight."

"The pleasure was all mine," I replied before I could stop myself.

Edward snort-laughed against my hair. "Oh but I think it was mine, too. Twice."

I would've whacked him had I not felt so gorgeously snuggly and loved in his arms, so I only grinned and kissed his forearm.

"Also, don't freak out if Riley stares at you like a possessed alien in the middle of the night. He does that sometimes. Just talk to him and he should fall back asleep pretty quickly." Edward paused, yawning. "Or, actually—just wake me. I'm used to it."

I was glad Edward warned me because, hours later, I woke up to the feeling of a presence in the darkness, and just as my heart skipped a beat, I recognized the glinting eyes of Riley: sitting on the side of his mattress, facing me, unmoving.

"Hey, buddy." I cleared my throat of the sleepy roughness. "You okay?"

He must've nodded or shaken his head because he didn't answer, and I slipped out from under the blanket to turn on the lamp on the floor. It was cold. Squinting, I pointed the lamp towards the hallway before I wrapped Riley in a throw and slid under my own blanket. His alert eyes followed me in silence, but he didn't seem upset.

"Are you gonna marry Edward, ma'am?"

Oh, wow. Straight to business.

I glanced behind me—confirming that Edward was asleep—before I rested my cheek against my palm, facing the boy.

"I'm a bit too young to get married."

He frowned. "But when you're old enough, you're gonna marry him, right? I know he can be scary, and he never lets me watch YouTube like mummy does, but he's the tallest and smartest and bestest."

"Is he now?" I asked, smiling. "Do you want me to marry him?"

Riley paused, rubbing his face, assessing me with his light blue eyes before he shrugged.

"I'll allow it."

I almost laughed, but Riley's face dropped.

"Will you still read to me when you and Edward have your own babies?"

Oh, sweet Jesus, this kid. Blood rushing to my face, I thanked my lucky stars that Edward was asleep. Not knowing how to tell Riley that no babies were planned for at least another decade, or how unlikely it was that Edward would stay with me, I hesitated. If I let my thoughts linger on how improbable it was that Edward and I would stick together after shit hit the fan, I would've cried.

"If I can. I'd like that."

Riley's chest rose and fell with his sigh.

"Jasper said Edward got into a big important school far, far away but mummy says he loves me too much to go there."

Oh, fucking hell. What a trauma to give a kid.

"It's… not related to how much he loves you. Sometimes, the right choice takes you away from the people you love. That doesn't mean he loves you any less."

"What is the right choice?"

Hell, this kid was a philosopher in the making.

"Only Edward knows the answer to that, and maybe not even him. But he will love you equally much if he goes to college far, far away."

"Really?"

"Really."

"You're sure?"

"I promise."

Riley pondered on this answer before he pulled the throw closer around himself. The boy was so awake and full of chatty energy that I rubbed sleep from my eyes to keep up with him.

"I wish he was my daddy."

Holy sweet mother of all that is holy, how do you respond to that?

"Do you like him taking care of you?"

"Lots. He never yells at me like mommy, and he takes care of me even when he's big mad. One time, he come picked me up at the kindergarten. Mrs. Brannen was sick and Miss Gibson had never met Edward before, and he got big upset when she wouldn't let him take me home even when he was in the list and I told her it was okay. Miss Gibson called mummy, and mummy come picked me up, and she was acting silly and happy. I like it when she's silly and happy, so I don't know why, but Edward got big mad outside, he shouted and took mummy's car keys away but he never yelled one word at me when he took me home."

Fuck. Edward's aunt must've driven to the kindergarten under the influence, and Miss Gibson, it seemed, had been happier to hand the kid over to a drunk mother than a sober if intimidating teenage boy.

No wonder Edward got mad, I'd have been furious.

"Does your uncle Carl ever take care of you?" I asked, unable to resist the opportunity to learn more about Edward's father since Riley was wide awake, anyway.

"When auntie Lizzy was alive they both did. But not after. He's sick, now. His door is always locked and Edward doesn't allow him to spend time with me. Do you think it's compagious, what uncle has?"

"I… don't know, Riley. I've never met Edward's father."

"One time, mummy dropped me here when Edward wasn't home but uncle was, and—uncle didn't make sense, scared me when he got big mad. He hit Edward when Edward got home but Edward held him against the floor for so long that I got hungry. He was big tired, after."

Holy shit, what the fuck was this kid's life that he spoke so casually about Edward holding his dad against the floor until Edward exhausted himself and Riley got hungry? And what did Edward's dad have? Schizophrenia? Some other mental illness? My head buzzed with this information, but, knowing we were both better off falling asleep, I offered to read Dragonology to Riley.

His breathing evened by my third whispery dragon voice. He'd asked to leave the lamp on, so I slid under the blanket next to Edward only to find him observing me in silence, his eyes calm and affectionate when he pulled me into his arms.

"How long have you been awake?" I asked, hoping that all the embarrassing, far-fetched marriage and baby talk didn't freak him out.

"A while," Edward replied with an adorably groggy voice. His eyes were hooded with sleep when he kissed me. "Thank you for being so good to him. You could've woken me."

"S'okay. I just talked to him."

Wrapped around Edward's warmth, I fell asleep with his arm wrapped around my waist and his breaths blowing against my ear.

It was dawn the next time I opened my eyes. Frustrated that I woke up so early—probably a habit from working so many weekends—I stretched, hiding my face between the pillows, but… something felt amiss. Quietly, I listened.

Hair rose in the back of my neck when a chair scooted right next to me, heavier than Riley. I jerked back against Edward.

A gaunt man sat on a worn stool, his elbows on his knees, his face less than two feet from me as he stared at me with an obsessive darkness in his eyes. His leg twitched. His fingers scratched at the sores on his face. His sharp features were reminiscent of the handsome man on the photograph on Edward's nightstand but much skinnier, skin droopier and covered in sores, the man looking like he could've crawled up the walls with the fanatic energy in his restlessness.

Every detail of Edward's father made my stomach drop, in disbelief of my conclusion but unable to deny it.

"Never thought my son would be into black girls," the man said, deadpan, his voice similar to Edward's and yet off in its delivery. "Playing house together, too. How sweet."

"Fuck, dad—"

Before I'd even realized he was awake, Edward sat between me and his father, shielding me. Our eyes met, and I knew, and he knew that I knew.

You don't live sixteen years in the trailer parks of Atlanta and not know what a meth addict looked like.

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