Mwah. Thanks so much for loving these two so far!
15
The room is bright when I wake up. Too bright. It's not just early morning light coming through the curtains, but my ceiling light glows, meaning the power is back on.
Groggily, I get up to turn it off, slightly shut the curtains, and lie back down.
I spot my laptop on the dresser and cringe. Without the armor of alcohol, I'm mortified I let Edward read something I wrote.
Wrote is putting it too lightly, though. No, I've spent hours, days, months, and years pouring my heart into every word to get it just right. Because my dad deserves that.
Before I fell asleep, I focused a little too hard on listening to Edward read.
He wasn't quiet about it.
He's a loud reader.
A reaction reader.
He laughed.
He sighed in what sounded like sympathy.
He made some tongue-click sounds, which I couldn't decipher because I failed my tongue-click class in college. That sound could've been made in disappointment or straight-up disdain.
I couldn't take the potential scrutiny and while I was on the verge of sleep, I decided maybe I'm not cut out for writing after all because criticism is debilitating and he hadn't even uttered a single fucking word yet.
Edward shifts awake now.
"Morning," he whispers, voice gruff with sleep. He watches me for a second, eyes hooded and heavy from sleep. "Why does it look like your brain is going a mile a minute?"
"Because that's how I roll," I admit. "Rise and shine, let the anxiety begin."
"Relax," he murmurs, closing his eyes again and draping his arm over my hip, nuzzling his face in my neck like he did yesterday morning.
With him this close, it's easy to do what he says—I relax.
I soak in the feeling of him holding me.
I grow warm from the soft stubble I feel on my neck.
"You're still here," I murmur in awe.
He pulls back and cracks an eye open. "Where else would I be, Swan?"
"I don't know. I thought maybe my writing was so awful, you wouldn't have had it in your heart to lie to me so you were going to ghost me and make me wake up alone."
He opens both eyes and scrubs a hand over his mouth. "After our conversation last night, I need you to clarify this whole ghosting thing. Do you mean literally turning into a ghost, or just avoiding you?"
I smile because we have the strangest conversations but they're so us.
"Ghosting as in avoiding me, not turning into a ghost," I clarify.
"You know I'd never ghost you. I would have woken up your talented ass to tell you what I thought about your manuscript, but I stopped reading around three and wanted you to sleep. I only made it halfway."
"Wait, my what?"
"Your manuscript. Rough draft. Book. Novel," he lists off. "I don't know, what do you want to refer to it as?"
"I just refer to it as my chaotic mind. But book works, I guess. It's long enough to be one. And you read half of it?" I ask, surprised and touched.
"Yeah. I didn't want to stop but my eyes were fucking killing me. I emailed it to myself so I can finish reading it if that's okay."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to," he says, cutting me off.
"Well, it's not three a.m. anymore," I say.
"No, it's not."
"And I'm awake now," I say sweetly, waiting for his thoughts on my book.
"Yes, you are."
I wait patiently. He smiles. I grow impatient.
"Just spill, Cullen. Should I stop writing? Accept my life as Jane's servant?"
"Hell no," he says with conviction, sitting up against the bed. "What you wrote is good, Bella. Really fucking good."
His compliment warms my heart. "You're not lying?"
"No. I fucking loved it so far. You take the reader through your experience of grief and loss. It's sad in a way, but it's sentimental, too. The dark humor is a nice touch, too, and works well because sometimes you have to find the humor in life to keep going. You wrote a straightforward look at how gruesome grief can be and how you can try to overcome it. But you're not on a high horse telling people exactly what to do, which is refreshing. It felt like you were just sharing a part of your story in hopes to help people or so they can commiserate," he recaps, aptly summarizing exactly what I was trying to achieve but was so unsure I was able to execute well enough. "I enjoyed getting to learn about your dad. And I loved—I mean, fucking loved—getting more of a glimpse into who you are."
Searching his face, all I find is sincere honesty.
I pounce, straddling him on the bed. Our kiss isn't slow. It's immediate and messy. Desperate. Our lips meet again and again, and I don't even care about my morning breath. Or I kind of do now, but he doesn't seem to care because he just keeps kissing me, making these delicious, deep growling sounds. His hands roam to my ass and give it a nice squeeze. With our chests flush, my hips roll against him, feeling the bulge in his jeans which spurs me on.
"No one has ever," I pant between kisses, "said so many nice things," I add, speaking against his mouth, "about my writing before."
He hums and I keep grinding against him, not caring if Alice and Jasper are awake.
"We really need to work on how you accept praise," he says dryly, huskily, eyes glazing as my hips roll again. "I can't have you straddling and making out with everyone who says something nice about your work."
"Don't get ahead of yourself. No one else will see it for a long time, if ever."
His face falls and he pauses our movements. "That's a shame and I think you should reconsider."
"Reconsider what?"
"Like I think you could get it published."
I laugh. Loudly.
"Are you sure you read something I wrote?" I joke.
"Yes."
"Less talking, more grinding, please."
"No," he says rudely.
Frustrated, I sit up but stay sitting on him. "My work only belongs in Google Drive collecting dust for years and years," I say. "A document graveyard, if you will."
He grabs my face with both hands. "Stop selling yourself so fucking short, Bella. What I read is raw, relatable, and well done. The way you handled that topic was gentle and sincere, and I honestly think a lot of people would benefit from reading it, especially those dealing with loss."
My playfulness fades and I swallow back the emotion he's drawing out of me.
"I don't know," is all I say.
He sighs. Not like he's disappointed but like he's tabling this for another time. When he has less of a boner.
"Well, thank you for trusting me with your work. Fucking finally. I've only been asking for the last three months. And don't think I'm gonna let up on this. I'll hound you every goddamn day until you do something about it. I'll help you. Whatever you need. Okay?"
His unwavering faith in me warms me so fucking much. I kiss him again.
"When Alice and Jasper leave, it's game on. We aren't leaving this bed all day," I murmur.
His bright green eyes shine. "So you're saying Christmas is coming early for me?"
"Christmas won't be the only thing coming," I tease.
He laughs, eyes squinting, on the verge of capturing my mouth again as a knock on my door interrupts us.
"Go away," I say aloud.
"Mom's here," Alice replies through the door.
Well, shit.
"I'll be right out, darling sister!" I call back, my voice an octave higher than the gremlin voice it was before.
"Should I be worried?" Edward asks as I scramble off the bed.
"No. My mom is the fucking best. That doesn't mean she wants to find me locked away in here dry-humping a dude."
Edward laughs, standing from the bed and adjusting himself in his jeans. "Yeah, I really don't want that either."
"At least we're already dressed and not in a compromising position," I say, moving toward my dresser mirror and fixing my hair a little. "Do you want to meet my mom or stay in here?"
"I do, yeah. If that's okay. Do you want me to meet your mom?" he asks, a flash of vulnerability passing over his handsome face.
I offer an unwavering, "Yes."
He smiles, and it makes my heart squeeze. It's a big moment, but I also don't want to make it seem like too big of a deal and put too much pressure on us.
We walk out of the room to find my mom wearing rubber gloves and cleaning my kitchen while Alice and Jasper put the pullout couch back in its original position.
My mom lights up when she sees me, and then her eyes sparkle even more when she sees Edward behind me.
"Hi, Mom," I greet. "You don't have to do that."
"Cleaning is my love language," she says, shutting off the faucet.
"This is my friend, Edward," I tell her, keeping it casual but knowing in my heart he's so much more. "Edward, this is my mom, Renee."
"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Swan," Edward says instead like the good, good boy he is. He reaches out a hand and she pulls off one of the rubber gloves so they can shake.
"Please call me Renee!" She smiles. "It's so nice to meet you, too. Finally. Bella's mentioned her friend Edward more than a few times. And I have to wonder, I've never had any male friends spend the night in my room but—"
"Mom," I cut her off, embarrassed while Edward just presses his lips together in a subdued smile, like he's holding back from laughing. "Where did you get those rubber gloves? I definitely don't own any."
"I know you don't. I brought my own," she says, and yeah, that adds up.
"You drove in the snow to clean my apartment?" I deadpan.
"No, don't be silly! Last night Alice told me you agreed to attend The Moth this year, so I figured we should finally pick up all of our Christmas traditions again and do our annual high tea and shopping date," she says with the happiest smile on her face.
It makes me feel like an asshole daughter for denying her Christmas traditions for the last eight years.
"Yeah, Alice finally twisted my arm long enough for me to cry uncle," I say with a wistful sigh.
"Actually, she screamed Edward," Alice chimes in. "I had to use him to bribe her to go. Worked like a charm."
Edward breathes out a laugh and rubs the back of his neck.
"You're going, too?" my mom perks up even more than I thought possible.
"Yeah," Edward replies, then politely adds, "If that's okay."
"Of course! The more the merrier. You should come to our Christmas Eve party, too, if your family won't mind," my mom offers. "It's always a big get-together, and Bella's never brought anyone before so—"
"Oh, my God," I groan, interrupting my mom before she makes me sound even more pathetic. "You two," I point at my mom and sister, "need to stop inviting him to everything! Let me do it so it means more."
"You sound hangry," Jasper quips.
"We have a reservation at Queen Mary Tea Room in an hour, so maybe you should eat something before we go, honey," my mom suggests.
"Can I borrow something to wear so I don't have to go home first?" Alice asks me.
I look at Edward who seems to be taking my overbearing family in stride. That doesn't mean I am, though.
"Yeah. Raid my closet. Infiltrate my life. Do whatever you want," I tell Alice, a little deflated because even if I want to hang out with my mom and sister, I wasn't expecting my time with Edward to end so abruptly. I look over at him. "Sorry. Raincheck?" Our day in bed is delayed yet again.
"It's all good," he says softly, bringing a hand up to my shoulder and squeezing it gently. "We can hang out another time."
The room is quiet, all eyes on us.
"I'll walk you out," I offer Edward.
He disappears to my room to get his shoes and coat. While he's in there, I have a whisper-scolding with my family.
"Look. I love you guys, but you need to chill! I don't want to scare off Edward. He means a fucking lot to me, and things are going really well, so cool it before I lose it… or lose him," I say in a rush.
Three pairs of eyes are focused just past me.
"He's standing right behind me, isn't he?" I whisper again.
They all nod.
I'll admit, it's kind of funny. But Jasper was right, I am hangry. I was hungry for what Edward was going to give me and now that I know I'm not going to get it, I'm angry and allowed to throw this little temper tantrum.
In a huff, I move toward the door, slip into my Uggs and jacket, and exit my apartment.
After a minute, Edward comes out with a cautious smile.
He opens his mouth to say something, but I stop him.
"Can we wait until we get outside? I don't trust them to not eavesdrop," I say.
He nods and reaches for my hand and we walk out of the building in silence.
A cold rush of air hits us.
"You good?" he checks as we stand on the snowy sidewalk. The streets are plowed, a dark slush bordering the curbs.
"Yes. I'm sorry if they're a lot," I mumble, looking up at him. "But I'm kinda stuck with them so…"
He smiles. "They're not a lot. They seem great. And for the record, you mean a lot to me, too, and having a family that loves you isn't going to scare me away. I love that you're close to them. Got it?"
I grab the lapels of his wool coat and nod, not wanting him to go. I've been spoiled because we've never spent this much uninterrupted time together before.
"Will you abduct me?" I whisper. "Throw me in your car and run away? Just for the day. They won't even notice I'm missing."
He grins. "Listen. I would but your mom looked happy about doing your girl's day. In good conscience, I can't abduct you. Maybe we could schedule something?"
"Like a date," I clarify.
"If you'd rather refer to it as a date rather than an abduction, I would appreciate that," he agrees, smirking. "Outside of work, I'm gonna be kind of busy from now until Christmas Eve, so… it would have to be after that."
I playfully push him. "Rude. Dangle yourself in front of me only to pull back."
"That's not it," he reassures. "Trust me, I'd rather be hanging out with you than doing anything else."
"Okay, so after Christmas," I agree. "The literal day after Christmas."
"It's a date."
He dips his head to kiss me softly.
"What's going to happen at work tomorrow?" I ask.
"Well, you're gonna show up guns blazing. Metaphorically speaking, I hope. You're gonna tell Jane you're not going to take any of her shit."
"I meant with us," I clarify.
"Well, we won't show up holding hands and I don't think we should make out in the break room if that's what you mean."
"So in other words, act normal," I summarize.
"Yes."
"Do you know how hard that is for me?" I ask rhetorically and he just laughs. "What about the supply closet? Is that fair game for making out?"
"Nothing says forbidden office romance like making out for all of the staplers to see," he jokes. "But I wouldn't want to tempt you to steal one again."
I can't help but laugh. "You fucker."
Another signature smirky smile. "Text me later when you're free. Or call me."
"You're not tired of me yet?"
"I'm never gonna ever get tired of you, Swan. Now that I have you, I'm always gonna want more."
I melt.
We kiss once again.
And I watch as he walks down the sidewalk toward his car, the giddy feeling in my chest making tomorrow feel so far away.