AN: FFN alerts are still a fail. Just so you know, if you get an alert saying this update is chapter 17, but you get here and see it is only chapter 16, this update is the newest. There's no chapter seventeen. Not that you're getting emails, but if by some miracle you are getting them, the email links on this fic don't work anyway and always say a chapter ahead. It's frustrating, but where do we go to enjoy our beloved fanfic stories?

Thanks to my pre-readers PurpleBrina17 and Maplestyle! Much love. Seriously.

*Grammar mistakes are mine *

Chapter Sixteen

-I Love You More Than Turk-

So, yeah. I have some bad news. My gorgeous, incredibly tall, gifted, and sugar-sweet boyfriend can't cook to save his life. Unbelievable, right? It came as a surprise to me, too. The poor boy is terrible at it—not that I expected him to make a gourmet meal out of the food I had in the apartment, but tell me, how in the world can you ruin a grilled cheese sandwich? You combine two slices of bread and a slice of American cheese, brush with butter, and fry in a pan until the cheese is melted and the bread is toasted and golden brown.

Simple as pie, huh? Well, apparently not for my baby daddy. I watched in disbelief as he managed to burn the bread and leave the cheese barely melted. He had a unique talent for turning a simple dish into a culinary disaster.

I don't want to hurt his feelings, but if I eat this, our little nugget will call foul and throw it back up.

No, we will slap on a smile and choke this travesty of a meal down.

I say with feigned enthusiasm, "Mmmm," as I move the sandwich around with my fork. "This looks good."

Edward picks up my paper plate and places it on top of his. "You're such a bad liar."

"Hey!" I try to take it back from him. "I was going to eat that."

Edward swats my hand away. "Shut up. No, you weren't." Entering my kitchen, he throws the sandwiches away in my trash bin. Thankfully, my guy is a self-assured man who takes the circumstance as an excuse to go out rather than take offense. "Trust me, you're better off without it. What do you think about us getting some real food, Bruiser?"

I answer, "Sounds like a plan," standing up to meet him halfway.

He puts his hands on my hips. "You like Italian, right?"

"Who doesn't?" My arms fall across his broad shoulders. "Isn't it too late?"

"The Pink Door is open until eleven thirty, and it's barely nine," he says, kissing my forehead.

Now, my first impulse is to freak out and say, "The Pink Door? Are you serious? That spot is so lit! I've always wanted to go!"

But I don't, instead stating coolly and nonchalantly, "Oh, I think I've heard about that place."

Edward knows his Bruiser better than anyone and sees right through me. "Again, you're such a pitiful liar."

"Fine, I've been dying to go since the beginning of time. You happy?"

Edward grins. "A little. I like impressing you."

"Well, consider me impressed, hot shot. But wait, don't we need a reservation or something?" I ask, but my heart picks up its tempo, and it's impossible to ignore how he stares at my mouth.

"Or something," he answers but doesn't elaborate.

I give him a slight shove. "What does that mean?"

"The owner there is a huge Seahawks fan and has reserved me a table for life."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "A table for life? That's quite the hookup. Are we talking front-row seats or something?"

Edward chuckles and shakes his head. "Not quite, but it's a guaranteed spot whenever we want to go. And trust me, the food is worth it."

You know, Edward says stuff like that and acts as if it's no big deal, but for regular folk like me, it's huge. The Pink Door is the hottest joint in Seattle, and what, my boyfriend, has unlimited access? Like, see, it blows my mind. Well, I guess it's normal for him. He's been in the spotlight for a while, and he's used to strangers swooning and falling over backward to accommodate him. But for me, it's just surreal. I mean, I never thought I'd have the privilege of skipping the long waitlist and being treated like a VIP at such a popular place. It's one of the perks of dating someone famous.

"How do you get used to people treating you like you're..." I look for an adjective, but nothing comes to mind.

"Like a football god," Edward says to tease me.

"You're trying to be funny, but yeah, exactly like that," I say.

He shrugs. "I don't know. It feels like high school. Just on a bigger scale."

"Ah." I nod because that clicks with me.

There was one time I witnessed the EC phenomenon at Forks High. Since I had straight A's and Charlie was the town sheriff, I was offered a school tour. My parents thought it would be good for me to get a feel for the place since I would be attending in September. As Principal Cope showed me around, we ran into Edward in the hallways. The principal asked him to take over my tour, and it's not surprising to me now, but back then, I couldn't believe he agreed.

So there I was with Edward, wandering around minding our business, and everyone we passed freaked out when they saw him. They all said things like, "Hi, EC!" or "Great game, EC!" or "You're so amazing, EC!" and so on. They seemed to be dying to breathe the same air as him. It was as if he possessed some magnetic charm that drew people toward him. His presence commanded attention and adoration, leaving me in awe of his influence over others. It was clear that Edward had a special aura that set him apart from the rest captivating those around him effortlessly.

"They see me so much on their television and social media that they feel like they know me."

Edward's explanation shed light on people's intense fascination with him. The constant exposure through various media platforms created a sense of familiarity, blurring the lines between his public persona and his true self. This connection made it easier for others to feel a deep connection with him as if they were already acquainted.

My lip pouts in mockery of him. "Oh, you poor boy. That must be so dreadful. To be loved and adored."

He chuckles softly, understanding the sarcasm in my response. "I suppose it does have its perks," he admits, "but it also comes with a loss of privacy and the pressure to live up to others' expectations constantly. It can be quite overwhelming at times."

Despite his fame and idolization, Edward's words hint at the complexities and challenges of being in the public eye, and I feel bad for making light of it.

"Ugh, I can be such a jerk sometimes. I'm sorry for not fully understanding the weight of your situation," I whisper, realizing the impact my sarcastic remark may have had on him. As I hold him close, I silently vow to be more considerate and supportive in the future. "This life of yours seems so unreal."

"I agree, honey. This life is unreal," Edward smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, "but with you, everything feels genuine and authentic. You bring me back to reality and remind me of what truly matters. You ground me, Bruiser, and keep me sane amidst all the chaos."

This man kills me, and I don't know what to say to that. It's easier to express myself through touch. Rising on my tiptoes to elevate my height to meet Edward, I press our lips together. It's soft and gentle at first, but quickly, the kiss deepens. I feel him growing against me, and it won't be long before we're both naked again, but the loud, uncomfortable rumble from my stomach dampens the mood. We laugh and part ways.

"Sounds like our little girl is hungry," Edward says, resting his palm on my lower belly.

"Her mama is too. So it's up to Daddy to feed us," I say. His eyes bore into mine, and the emotion there is unfathomable to read. "What? What is it?"

"I've never been this happy before," he says. "I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to lose us." I put my hands over his, and at that moment, all three of us, hearts beating and syncing as one, became a family. "Ever."

Edward called the manager of the Pink Door and told him that we would be there in twenty minutes. And let me tell you, this guy pulled out all the stops for EC. Seattle isn't the paparazzi capital of the world, not like Los Angeles, but gaining unwanted attention was still a possibility. To combat that, Edward had access to a private parking garage across the alley from the restaurant. The manager, Craig, met us at the back door. He ushered us through the kitchen and into a corner booth near the bar. Our server, Rachel, was extremely professional and polite. She was attentive, ensuring our drinks stayed fresh and refilled throughout the night.

The Pink Door restaurant exudes a charming blend of rustic elegance and modern sophistication. The walls are adorned with vintage artwork and photographs, creating a nostalgic ambiance. Soft, warm lighting casts a gentle glow over the cozy booths and intimate tables, inviting patrons to relax and savor their dining experience. The sounds of smooth jazz music fill the air, adding to the overall romantic and enchanting atmosphere of the restaurant.

As we perused the menu, Edward recommended some of his favorite dishes, each more enticing than the last. We started with an appetizer platter featuring a delectable assortment of bruschetta, cheese, and cured meats. For our main course, I chose a mouthwatering steak cooked to perfection, while Edward opted for their famous lasagna.

The food was terrific, and I could go on forever about the rich flavors and tastes, but the biggest proof was that our nugget didn't reject one bite. I didn't get sick or anything.

All I had was a full stomach and droopy eyes.

The Pink Door lived up to the hype. You know how people complain about expensive restaurants and say you don't get any food for the price? Yeah, that is not the truth. There was so much left over. I had two days worth of meals, plus the rolls that Rachel packed up for me. Edward told me I didn't have to take a to-go box, but I wasn't raised to waste food, and moreover, I planned to eat it for my lunches.

We left the restaurant around ten thirty, and as we drove to Edward's condo, I couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and apprehension. This decision to move in with him was a big step, but deep down, I knew it was the right one for us. While I expected some skepticism from Alice and my parents, I couldn't let their opinions overshadow my happiness and the love Edward and I shared. I don't think they'll understand our connection as kids or even comprehend how this love is real and has been a long time coming.

"Here we are," Edward says as he opens the front door. I step forward to walk inside, but he holds up his hand to stop me, quickly tossing both my duffel bags on the floor. "Wait, we've got to do this right."

I already know what's coming, and I'm shaking my head, backing away from him. "Babe, it's unnecessary, and you don't have to..." I am cut off mid-sentence as Edward scoffs at my protests and swiftly lifts me into his arms, carrying me marriage-style.

"You know, you make it incredibly hard for a man to be romantic," he says.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but carrying me over the threshold is something you do after we're married," I point out to him, "not before."

"Well, as you may know, we're already married, and since I didn't carry you into the treehouse, I am doing it now."

I roll my eyes, but I can't help but smile. "You're incorrigible."

Edward chuckles, his grip tightening slightly as he carries me effortlessly. "I prefer to think of it as being spontaneous and keeping the romance alive," he retorts playfully. I can't deny that his unexpected gestures always make my heart skip a beat.

Once we've passed the door, Edward sets me down on my feet but doesn't let me get far. He grabs my hand and spins me back into his arms. His hands are on my face as he leans down and kisses me. I grip his shirt and try not to pass out. Whenever our lips connect this way, I feel dizzy, unsteady, and breathless. I know it takes strength to be with a man so overwhelming and sexy, and if I had experienced this when I was younger and ill-prepared, I might have given up everything for him.

I open my eyes as he releases me. "Don't let go of me. Just give me a second."

"Do you need me to carry you again?" He asks, as cocky and sure of himself as ever.

I am more than willing to milk his chivalrous behavior. "Yes, please," I say.

Lifting me again without much effort, he carries me up the stairs and into his room—no, correction, our room. I am gently placed on the bed, like a precious China or rare crystal vase, and kissed on the nose.

He stands to his full height and looks down at me lovingly. "I am going to go get your bags. Do you need anything while I'm downstairs? Something to drink or a snack?"

"A bottle of water would be nice—Oh! I just remembered. I left the leftover food in your car. Can you go get it?"

"Of course. I'll be right back." Edward kisses my lips one more time before walking out of the room.

When his overpowering presence is gone, I get the feeling back in my legs and stand up. Moseying to the walk-in closet, I open the double doors and flick on the overhead light. At first, everything appeared the same, but the longer I looked and examined the space, there was a significant difference and some major renovations, creating a space just for me. The once-cluttered shelves are now neatly organized, with labeled bins and boxes. The walls have been freshly painted in a calming shade of blue, replacing the dull beige that was there before. It's as if a professional organizer has magically transformed the chaotic closet into a serene and functional space.

"Here you go, honey," Edward says, startling me slightly, and when I turn to face him, he has a bottle of water for me. He studies my expression and quirks an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

I shake my head, still in awe of Edward's effort in our shared closet. "Nothing's wrong," I say, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "This is incredible."

Edward looks around, acting like he sees it for the first time himself. His eyes focus on me again and soften. He takes a step closer, gently placing his hand on mine. "I wanted to make sure you understood how much you belong here," he whispers, his voice filled with love.

I inquired, "When did you do this?"

Edward smiles softly, his thumb caressing the back of my hand. "After you left for school, Irina came over. I had given her a key in Tampa. She was supposed only to clear out a section for you, but it didn't take much convincing from her to up the ante."

"Wait, you gave her a key in Tampa?" I ask, slowly putting his story together. "So, you asking me to move in with you wasn't something you came up with tonight out of desperation."

"No, Bella," Edward says, his voice drenched with sincerity. "I had been planning this for a while. I wanted you to feel comfortable and secure in our relationship before taking this step. Irina just helped me expedite the process."

Coach Bier's words come back to me: "EC knows where the ball will land before he throws it."

The confidence he has in me and our relationship isn't anything I expected. Sometimes, I still can't believe that Edward Cullen loves me and always has. Right now, though, I don't know how to respond. It's overwhelming to see that he loves me that much, but it also makes me feel safe and supported. I realize now that his actions have always spoken louder than his words, and this gesture solidifies the depth of his commitment to us.

"Thank you," I say.

Edward cradles my face and lowers his lips to mine. "Welcome home, Bruiser."

For the rest of the week, I only see Edward three hours a day—an hour before he leaves for work and two hours at night. Despite our limited time together, those meager hundred and eighty minutes hold immense value for us. The moments of falling asleep in his arms and waking up to his kisses compensate for our time apart. Adhering to the cell phone policy allows me to concentrate on my studies, and it's astonishing how productive I can be without the distraction of contacting Edward. However, once Coach Biers grants him freedom for the night, my phone starts buzzing with texts and calls from him. We engage in conversation as he drives home. Sometimes, I make dinner, and sometimes, we have takeout, but once we're on the couch snuggling and eating, the distance between us during our time apart only strengthens our bond. As we catch up on each other's day, the warmth and comfort of being together erase any feelings of loneliness or longing that may have lingered.

"How's school going?" Edward asks, taking a bite of his dumplings.

We ordered Chinese takeout tonight. My nausea is becoming less and less these days, but even still, I try to stay on the safe side, and I have learned to minimize the grease and spice. The Lo Mein noodles have the right amount of filling and are my new favorite thing. Especially when I pair it with teriyaki chicken, I savor each bite, the flavors blending perfectly in my mouth.

"Good," I shrug, but it's only half the truth.

Of course, I can't get anything past him, and Edward gently nudges me with his shoulder. "What's really going on?" he asks, concern evident in his eyes.

I hesitated for a moment before deciding to open up to him about my struggles with a challenging class and the pressure to maintain good grades. He listens attentively and without judgment, but as I am laying out all my issues, they seem so trivial spoken out loud.

"Ugh," I say, embarrassed. "Listen to me whine about school. It's so silly. You have real problems."

Edward shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "What problems? I make millions to play a game I love."

"Yes, but your life is always being discussed in the news," I point out. Just today, the Seattle Gazette ran an online article about him becoming a free agent, and they speculated if he should stay with the Seahawks or sign with a more 'deserving' team. There are blips about me, too, but I ignore those. "Worrying about getting an 'A' versus a 'B' on an essay seems childish compared to that."

"Sure, the media can be a nuisance, but I've learned to take them with a grain of salt. Everyone has battles, whether in the public eye or not." Edward puts his hand on my knee as his tone turns serious. "School is fucking hard, Bruiser. It's a level of stress I don't miss. And whatever is going on in your life is important to me and should never be childish. So, please, honey, don't feel like you don't have a right to 'whine' to me. Okay?"

"Okay?" I smile tenderly and press my lips to his. "Why are you so sweet to me?"

"It's a ploy to get all up in your delicates," he teases.

"Oh, my goodness, really, Edward?" I laugh and shove him in the chest.

"What? It's a classic line."

"You heard some guy on some ancient show say that once, and years later, you still can't let it go."

"Hey, that guy's name was Turk, and that show was Scrubs, and it isn't that ancient, Bruiser. I was fourteen when it ended."

"Cool story, Grandpa," I say, giggling when he glares at me. "Oh, hush, you know I'm just messing with you."

His scowl softens into a smile when he realizes the mistake I made. "How do you know where I got it from? We never watched the show together, and I don't recall quoting it around you, but you knew it well enough to know where it was from, didn't you?"

"Didn't you watch it around Emmett?"

"Nah," Edward says, morphing into that beautiful teenage boy before my eyes. "I watched all the seasons on Blu-ray in my room...by myself."

"Okay... and so?"

"So," he says, watching me carefully, "I think you went around my room and started watching the shows I watched because you were so in love with me."

Even though we both knew that was true, I couldn't drop the con. So, I avoided his gaze and shoved a forkful of food into my mouth. "I have no idea what you're talking about," I say.

"Oh, no?"

"Nope."

"You're going to continue lying to me and not admit that while snooping through my stuff, you also doused your sweater in my cologne."

I freeze mid-bite, my eyes widening in surprise. "How did you...?" I trail off, unable to finish my sentence.

He leans back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Let's just say I have my ways of finding out things."

"Well, I still don't know what you're talking about," I say.

"Really?" He pulls me over to his side of the couch by my shirt and takes a big whiff of the fabric. "Hmm, that smells familiar."

"Old habits die hard." I playfully push him away, laughing. "So, what of it? I like being surrounded by you all day."

He chuckles and nudges me back into his arms. "Well, I can't blame you for that. Who wouldn't want to be around someone as amazing as me?"

"You're such an egomaniac. Why do I even like you?" I retort, pretending to be annoyed.

Edward lowers his gaze and comes toward me with his fingers poised to attack. "You more than just like me, Swan." He pounces before I can escape, taking me hostage by tickling my sides. "You fucking love me."

"No, I don't!" I burst into laughter, squirming and trying to wriggle out of his grasp. He's relentless, getting me in all my sensitive areas, but when he tickles my chin and the back of my neck, I fold like a deck of cards. "Okay, okay, I admit it! I watched Scrubs because of you."

"And what else?" He holds up his hands and wiggles his fingers at me. "Come clean, Bruiser. It's the only way."

"Fine," I huff, exasperated. "I not only sprayed my sweater with your cologne but also sprayed one of your sweaters, then stole it."

His brows raise in surprise. "Which sweater?"

"Does it matter? You didn't notice it was gone."

He growls, and it's so sexy. "What else?"

I roll my eyes, knowing there's no escaping his persistence. "Alright! Fine, okay? I may have also developed a slight addiction to your terrible taste in music."

That set him off again; this time, though, I am ready for him. He may know all my tickle spots, but the same was true for me. Edward Cullen hated his love handles to be messed with—even though he had only three percent body fat. Getting a good grip on him is difficult, but I managed somehow, and we engaged in a playful tickle fight. We laughed uncontrollably as we rolled around on the couch, trying to out-tickle each other. Our fight continued for what felt like hours until we were both exhausted and gasping for breath.

"What else?" Edward asks, his voice filled with amusement as he catches his breath.

I pause momentarily, contemplating what he wants to hear, and it takes everything in me to say it. "I fucking love you, you goofball."

Edward's grip on me tightened slightly. "I knew it," he says triumphantly. "It looks like I've successfully corrupted you in more ways than one."

I playfully swat at his arm, unable to hide the smile that spreads across my face. "Savor it because that's the last time, Cullen."

Edward's laughter fills the room, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I highly doubt that," he teases, pulling me closer. "You're stuck with me now, honey."

He says that as if it's a threat. I scoff and snuggle closer to him, filling my head with his scent. Although his cologne does smell good on my clothes, it smells even better on him, taking on a new level of intoxication. I need to oversaturate myself to get through the next three days. Edward has to fly out of town for a game tomorrow morning. He wants me to go, but with a strict 'no shacking up' before a game rule, I declined, not wanting to spend my nights alone in a hotel room.

I sigh, feeling a mix of sadness and frustration. "I'm going to miss you so much. What am I going to do without you this weekend?"

Edward pulls me closer, and his voice fills with reassurance. "I'll be back before you know it, Bruiser. Just think of it as a chance for some much-needed alone time. You can catch up on your favorite shows or finally dive into that book you've been meaning to read."

I nod, trying to find solace in his words, but the thought of being apart still weighs heavily on my heart. "Yeah. Maybe."

"Or," he says, letting it just hang there.

"Or...what?"

"You know, if all that's holding you back from coming with me is the hotel situation, maybe you could ask Alice if she would like to come along to keep you company."

Edward's suggestion catches me off guard, and my head snaps up. "Are you serious?" I ask, my voice filled with both surprise and hope.

"Of course, I'm serious," he says, gently caressing the side of my face.

Having Alice with me would ease the loneliness and make the trip more enjoyable. Plus, it would also allow us to bond outside of our usual routine.

My lips crash into his in a passionate kiss. He holds me firmly to his chest, matching my intensity. When I pull back, we're breathless. "You're sure?"

Edward's gaze softens as he nods, his voice filled with unwavering certainty. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life," he whispers, his hand still resting against my cheek. "You should call her."

"Right now?" I glance up at the clock on the wall. It's nearly ten in the evening.

"The plane leaves tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh, crap. You're right," I say, pulling my phone to call her. "Alice is going to lose her mind."

As I think more about exploring a new city together, trying fresh foods, visiting landmarks, and experiencing different cultures—not to mention I can introduce her to Irina—the excitement builds. I can already imagine the laughter and memories we would create together. It's impossible to contain myself now. My whole body is a bundle of energized nerves as I bounce on the couch.

"I like seeing you like this, Bruiser."

I blush, feeling a warmth spread across my cheeks. "Like what?" I ask, curious about his thoughts.

Edward's eyes sparkle with affection as he replies, "Just happy."

"Well, you're the one who makes me this way. So, you better get used to it," I say with a wink, playfully teasing him. As the phone rings, I panic and put my hand over the speaker to muffle the sound. "Wait! Where are we going again?"

His face lights up with a mischievous grin as he replies, "Las Vegas."

AN: Girls trip! I can't wait for Alice and Irina to meet. It should be fun.

Also, I took a poll on my Facebook about Edward's POV, and Bella ghosting him won. I can post that outtake next, or wait. Let me know what you would like.

If you're still here, THANK YOU!