A/N: Thank you for the support with this story:) Big thanks to my team...this chapter is leading to some answers;)

So I was officially a judgmental bitch. A judgmental stuck-up bitch. Fuck, Jane was right—I had terrible instincts.

I'd assumed that Edward was just a bartender. Oh how I was wrong. He not only owned Bar, he'd bought it off of Harry, Victoria's father, when he was twenty-eight. Edward said that Harry gave him a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and he took it. He used up every penny he had and sunk it into Bar, no doubt making it the place it was.

The more I got to know him, the clearer it was to me that Edward was a hard worker, who didn't want to let anybody down. As he spoke about his staff and how they were like family to him, he did so with such passion, I was almost jealous. I had nothing in my life that gave me that sort of fire. We kept our conversation light as we sat and ate our hot dogs, but I couldn't resist the urge to ask something I'd been wondering about since that first night at Bar. The look on Edward's face was priceless when I asked if he and Vic had a history. He blanched just at the thought, and that reassured me tremendously.

He just had this way about alleviating my fears and anxiety. Like with that hotdog—I'd always thought they were unappealing, and with the way they were presented, they were, but at his insistence, I'd tried it and I could admit the taste was yummy. I didn't want to like it, but I had no control.

I was finding this to be the case with a lot of things these days, especially when it came to a certain man from Brooklyn.

A man with whom I was presently on a second date in as many weeks, playing mini golf at Coney Island.

It had been so long since I'd been out here, and I'd never been to play mini golf. I was experiencing a lot of firsts with Edward it seemed. The only other time I had been to Coney Island was when Jane had taken me right after our parents separated. I was fourteen and she'd just turned seventeen. I thought she was so cool for sneaking us out of the house. Not that sneaking out was that hard since it was only the housekeeper we needed to hide from.

I remembered feeling so normal. Like the teenage girls that you saw on TV. It was almost liberating. Not at all like the prim and proper lifestyle I was used to. We played carnival games and laughed about all the cute boys who passed.

When we passed a souvenir shop, Jane insisted on buying me something to commemorate our day of freedom.

I remembered the gleam in her eye when she saw trinkets for charm bracelets.

"Bella, come quick!"

I ran over to the little stand where about a hundred charms hung neatly on a wire rack. Some had letter initials on them, others little emblems depending on your interest. Jane grabbed a couple off the display before I could see what they said.

"These are perfect. You always wear your charm bracelet." Jane pointed to my wrist where my silver bracelet hung. She held out one of the charms she'd select so I could see, and I took it from her.

I twirled the metal piece, taking in its shape and the words written across the front—it was half a heart with "best" engraved on it. I presumed that Jane must hold the other half, the side with "friends" displayed on it. She was right—it was perfect. Perfect for Janie and me. But of course, I was concerned about the quality.

I bit my lip. "Are you sure it will match okay?" I asked, hesitantly. "This is Tiffany, you know!"

Jane punched my shoulder. "Renee, cut the shit! Seriously, sis, do you want to end up with a stick up your ass like Mom? Stop living the lie. You know Tiffany isn't even that classy of a name," Jane admonished, dragging me to the register to pay.

Jane pushed me to break free from the mold that I was forced into.

She was always more adventurous than I was in terms of breaking rules and going outside our circle. Sure, I'd done drugs and partied, but that was almost a rite of passage in my mother's world. Jane hated high society, and from her teen years onward, she rebelled hard against anything my mother pushed her toward.

Her debutante was the perfect example. A young lady's introduction to high society had to be perfect because it set the theme for their entire life. It determined how they would be perceived, and ultimately how they would be judged.

My father was supposed to escort Jane down the staircase and announce her to the crowd. A tradition as old as time. When it came to picking a second escort, Renee had arranged for Jane to be accompanied by the heir to a hotel empire. But Jane fought my mother on her choice, and somehow convinced her to allow her boyfriend from prep school to be her date.

Knee-deep in divorce proceedings, Charles didn't show up. He was conveniently out of the country for an emergency. An emergency that involved a Mai Tai and a tan.

Jane had been already taking our parents' divorce hard enough. When our father couldn't be bothered to make an effort, it solidified her decision to let her reputation crash and burn before it even really started.

So in true Jane fashion, she got drunk before showing up at the ballroom and then brought cocaine into the dressing room.

One of the chaperones alerted my mother what was going on, but it was too late. Jane made her entrance into high society high as a kite. Jane's date switched her walkout music from something appropriate that Mother picked out to Fat Joe's "All the Way Up." Jane danced provocatively against her date before Renee, and whatever Philip she was pining over at the time, ushered her out of the ballroom.

I'd never forget the audible gasps from multiple people in the room. The way they whispered and chattered, acting like they knew Jane and our family enough to cast the stones they did. How they ostracized Jane, made her out to be a troubled person, when in reality, she was a young girl coping with the dissolution of her parents' marriage.

Our father—practically abandoning our family for another man. Our mother—stepdad shopping before the ink was dry on the divorce papers.

It was a lot for anyone to handle. Not that there was any sympathy.

Renee was fed up with Jane at that point. The tension between Jane and my mother was so unbearable that by the time Renee threatened me with boarding school, I willingly obliged. Jane turned eighteen shortly after her debut from hell, and then she got the first installment of her trust fund and hightailed it out of our penthouse.

Alone and without any actual guidance, I wanted to please my mother. I didn't want people to whisper behind my back like they did Jane's. I was too young to realize that no matter what I did, they would still talk. Jane just made it easy for them. She truly didn't care.

On the other hand, I cared too much.

Jane's personality embodied everything I wasn't: confident, independent, free.

Once Jane got her first taste of freedom, she never looked back to the Upper East Side. She went wherever the wind took her, only returning for the occasional holiday.

She only agreed to meet me at my brownstone once I moved out on my own. But God forbid Jane step foot in any shops or restaurants that Renee or I frequented.

It was ironic that Renee's worst fear was me becoming like Jane, and Jane's worst fear was me becoming like Renee. Time would tell whose fears were unfounded.

XxXx

"Earth to Bella!" Edward called, laughing and waving one hand in front of my face, while the other held a golf club.

"Oops. I'm sorry!" I smiled, sheepishly. This guy must think I was nuts. Half the time I was zoned out, and between that and my half answers, I had no clue why he was sticking around.

Edward walked toward me to close the gap between us. "Now I believe you made a bet. Are you caving that easily?" he taunted, his face mere inches from my own.

I gulped. His entire presence was too much at times. Between his scruffy five o'clock shadow, piercing green eyes, gentle touch and disposition, and his smell, I lost my head regularly. Goddammit the man smelt like a cologne ad but not in that super overwhelming way. No, it was more of a natural musk. Manly, strong, and hot.

"Did you check out again?" He laughed, moving back a little to examine my face.

This time I wasn't letting him get away so easily. I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him toward me, effectively crashing his mouth to my own.

I typically never made first moves with guys, but with him, I threw all my learned behavior and etiquette right out the window.

His hand cupped my face, holding me right where he wanted me. As he massaged my tongue with his, I might have let out a small moan. But it was trumped by a blaring ringtone, making me groan.

I reluctantly stepped back to look down at the caller ID and immediately cringed.

Renee.

I'd been avoiding her calls since the first night I went to Bar, two weeks ago. I sent her a text every few days so she knew I was still alive. Not that it really mattered—I was sure she had the doorman at The Plaza on her payroll anyways.

"I'm so sorry," I stressed, holding my phone up, and backed away from Edward's all-encompassing presence. "I have to get this."

Edward gestured with the golf club for me to take the phone call. I really loved how understanding and patient he was. But I knew I had to pull it together and start acting like a normal person.

As I walked far enough away from earshot, I slid the button on the phone. "Hello, Mother."

"Isabella Marie Swan," she shrieked, as I held the phone a distance from my ear. I was going to go deaf at this rate.

"Mom–" I started but there was no point. Once Renee got going on a rant, there was no stopping her. My dad used to just say, "Let her go."

"I can't believe you didn't call me back. I swear, sometimes you are so ungrateful. What did I do to have two children hell-bent on disgracing my name at every turn. You reject all of my overtures to help you handle this mess you made. Instead, you're doing what you've been doing for over a year. Wallowing and throwing yourself a pity party," Renee ranted, her flawless facade cracking.

I hoped she caught herself quick. I wouldn't want her to become the next one to have a "swan dive."

I heard her sip something on the other end of the phone—no doubt, her usual nightcap of a gin and tonic. Except barely any tonic made it to the drink. She was definitely a lush; that was for sure.

"Mother, I'm sorry for not calling you back. I've been busy. I've been doing some soul searching," I defended. Maybe honesty would work.

"Soul searching? What program are you in now? Bridges? Crossroads? Did you take my advice and go to that horse therapy ranch in Montana?" Renee babbled, throwing all of these outlandish ideas on the table.

"Mom, I'm not in a program. I'm in Brooklyn. I met someone, and I really like him."

Bomb dropped.

Pause. Silence.

Only the sound of Renee's breathing on the other end of the phone signaled that she hadn't hung up.

"A guy?" Renee asked, taking another sip of her drink. "In Brooklyn?" I could picture the disgusted look on her face.

"Yes."

Renee grew quiet again. A moment passed before she spoke, and I used that time to glance at Edward who was staring at me intently. From the distance, he mouthed, "Everything okay?"

I looked at him fully, and it was at that moment that my mother decided to speak in a low murmur. "You're just like your sister." It was said so quietly I almost missed her statement.

Her admonishment caused panic to arise in my chest. The walls began to close in. I pushed down the uneasiness that settled in my gut—not here, not now.

"Mom, I have to go. I'll call you sometime next week," I rushed the words out and hung up before she could say anything else to trigger me.

I nodded at Edward, who was still staring at me expectantly, his eyes intense and filled with concern. Damn, I had never seen that color green before.

Pocketing my phone and practically running toward him, I noticed how my feet didn't ache. I guessed sneakers did live up to the hype.

Edward had texted me the day before to make sure I owned sneakers. He told me the dress code for this date was comfortable, or as Edward joked, "slumming it."

I wouldn't tell him my Golden Goose sneakers cost well over five hundred dollars.

"Are you okay?" Edward asked, rubbing my arms up and down. The motion was quite relaxing.

I smiled and said, "Yeah, everything's fine." I grabbed my club from the rack where I'd left it and was about to take my swing when something stopped me.

Edward steadied the club that I didn't realize was shaking from my nerves. "I didn't ask if everything was okay. I asked if you were okay." His eyes bore into my own. It was like he really knew me.

And that terrified me.

I looked away when I felt the heaviness on my chest once more. "My mother and I are going through a rough patch. She doesn't approve of, well, she doesn't approve of me right now."

Edward's eyebrows furrowed, and he looked confused and sad. Like he couldn't grasp the concept.

"That's a damn shame. No parent should make a child feel like that. Parents are supposed to be their kid's biggest cheerleader. A pillar of support," he went on, his eyes shining with such conviction. "Sorry, I don't want to badmouth your mother. It's just I think you're pretty great. What's not to approve of?" he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm no saint. I've done some pretty questionable things. Put her through the ringer for sure. But it's just I wish she'd see me. See what I need versus what she thinks I need. I'm starting to realize I can't be the person she wants me to be. I don't know if she can accept that." I trailed off and took a deep breath.

Thankfully the panic seemed to be at bay for the time being.

"All right, enough with the heavy. Let's get on with this bet," I blurted, hoping Edward would let me drop this.

The bet was pointless. I had no coordination whatsoever, and Edward seemed naturally good at everything.

If he had the least number of strokes, I had to work a shift at Bar.

If I scored the "lowest," he had to try escargot. After making me try that hot dog, it was the least he could do.

Mini golf scoring was weird.

Now with my nerves, I could only imagine how this was gonna go.

"Your turn, fancy pants." Edward smirked as he stepped out of the way to give me room to swing.

I tightened my grip on the golf club and focused my hardest on the hole. It couldn't be so hard, right?

Steady. Steady. Swing.

"Ahh!" I shrieked, "I did it!" Like it was second nature, I launched myself into Edward's arms.

"That's my girl!" He beamed with pride. It didn't seem like he realized what he said. Or maybe he did, and I shouldn't be interpreting it the way I was.

How longed for that to be true. To be his. For him to be mine.

Focus, Bella!

Edward gave me one more squeeze before lining up his form to putt the golf ball. Move over, Tiger Woods. I met him once, and he wasn't nearly as charismatic as the bar owner over here.

Just as the club swung into motion, Edward's wrist jerked and the ball went in the opposite direction of the hole.

"Fuck," Edward muttered.

"What happened?" I questioned, confused because he usually had such good focus.

He moved his wrist in a circular motion. "My wrist. It locks up on me from time to time. Must be from all those dirty martinis I make." He laughed.

I elbowed him. "Well at least things are fair now." I gripped his hand in mine, pulling his wrist up, and leaned down to place a chaste kiss on it.

"More like an unfair advantage," Edward muttered as he stroked my cheek and looked into my eyes, a twinkle shining in his.

Four more holes and more mishaps by Edward, I was ahead.

I needed to make this hole and Edward to miss his.

Lining up with the proper form, I looked across the pond that was in the way between me and my chance at claiming victory. I said a silent prayer and swung.

The golf ball rolled at a fast pace as it tumbled downhill. Then as it steadied onto the flat part of the astroturf, it slowed to a painful pace.

It looked as though it was barely moving. I cringed, hoping it didn't stop right in front of the hole.

Just as I thought it was going to stop, a gust of wind passed and it gave the ball the boost it needed.

"Holy shit!" I jumped up and down.

Edward chuckled at my little performance, and I heard applause from behind me. A little boy was watching and decided to clap for me. Sweet.

"Your turn!" I shoved Edward in the direction of the course.

"Okay, okay." He laughed but obliged and set up his shot.

He was a sexy fucker—I'd give him that.

Edward swung the club faster than he had the other times. The golf ball glided along the hill, but it curved and went in the direction of the bridge. Slowly it rolled down, down, to the water, landing with a splat.

"Oh my god! I won!" I gasped in disbelief.

Edward held out his hand for me to shake as he offered his congratulations. Ignoring the gesture, I leaned in for a kiss because everybody deserved a celebratory kiss.

"Yeah, you won't be doing that after I eat those fucking snails," he said with a chuckle, his smile breathtaking.

Yep, I'd definitely won, and it looked like at more than just mini golf.

A/N: Let me know your thoughts:)