I'm so sorry to leave you hanging on Drunk Edward's words for so long! My sons made it into the 8U World Series so I spent everyday last week traveling to and from game after game and event after event. Then we traveled four hours to a family wedding for a long weekend, and I didn't have time to even think about anything else! All is good though - the tournament was an amazing experience for us all and the wedding was beautiful.
Thank you to every one of you. It seems we all love Drunk Edward. Good news: he'll be sticking around for the next handful of chapters!
You're so beautiful it fucking hurts to look at you, Isabella.
Is this everything she had read about in the novels she had hidden beneath the mattress in her bedroom back home on the farm? The same emotions surging from Cary Grant at the pictures as he wraps his arms around his leading lady?
Isabella is convinced it must be; she has nothing else to compare this feeling to. Edward stands in front of her, the sleek wood of the bar helping him maintain his position. She's never seen him this way – and she thinks she likes it. His jacket has long been discarded, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled to his elbows. His tie is crooked and matches the lazy smile on his face as he looks at her from his side of the bar.
If tonight were the first night someone glanced upon Edward Cullen, he would not look the part of the successful businessman he has become. Luckily, everyone inside The Lost Key tonight knows him well enough to know that he is simply a man enjoying his successes. Serious and modest to an almost off-putting degree on a typical day would be how one would describe him, but tonight is not a typical night. Even if tonight there is an extra wobble in his step or slowness to his words, no one dares say anything to or about him to anyone.
His reputation demands it.
Isabella knows it's the whisky flowing through his blood to make him speak those words to her, but it still makes that flutter in the lower pit of her stomach impossible to ignore. She feels frozen, somehow able to remain standing on her feet even though his words have the power to sweep her right off them. She meets his gaze for a moment, her features both quizzical and amused, as he reaches for another glass she has poured. He is very much aware he'll regret having another in the morning, but it doesn't stop him from taking another healthy sip. All the while, his eyes never leave hers, and they let his revelation quietly marinate between them, even with the noise of dozens of others surrounding them.
She shakes her head again and lets out another one of those laughs he lets twinkle its way into his darkness. He feels warm with tingles throughout his body, and even in his drunken state, he knows it's not because of the alcohol.
"Should that be your last one of the evening?"
It's not the champagne. It's not the celebration of The Lost Key.
It's her.
The way her dark curls glide against her shoulders in soft waves that make him think of visiting the shores with his mother when he was a little boy. It's the light chocolate in her eyes that reminds him of the corner store candy he would steal when no one was looking. It's the sound of her voice and how it has brightened the shadows and brought in the guests here at The Lost Key. It's the sway of her hips and the shapeliness of her legs that bring him to his knees with desire and guilt.
He pushes these thoughts away most days, not because he doesn't deserve her; hell, he's never done harm to anyone in his life. He is too selfish to deny himself any happiness.
It's because he feels she doesn't deserve this life. Edward closes his eyes, his hand wrapped around his glass as he pictures her back home at her farm in Forks. He's never been there before, but he can see her with her hair down in the wind, laughing into the breeze of the open fields. He sees her away from the dirt and grime of the city, away from the harshness of life that girls like Victoria fall victim to.
If he couldn't save Victoria from the hells of Port Angeles, he still has a chance to save Isabella.
"It should be," he slurs, tilting his head back for another sip. He looks up at her again, chuckling at how he has managed to make two of her appear before his eyes instead of making her disappear altogether, which is the better thing to do. He swallows back one final gulp, slams the glass down on the table, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He laughs when he sees her raise an eyebrow at him. "Another."
"I'm looking forward to seeing how you'll fare tomorrow," Isabella laughs again and does what he's asked. She takes his glass, noticing how he has slumped against the bar even more than when he had first approached. His eyes slowly droop as she pours him what she believes will be his last for tonight; it appears Edward is fading in front of her. She wonders if he'll be able to make it home safely.
"You and me both," Edward answers with a sigh, sitting up in his chair to attempt to light a cigarette. He seems to nurse his drink while Isabella serves the other guests at the bar, bringing his cigarette up to his mouth every so often. The crowd thins with each passing minute, and people make their way over to Edward to thank him for the entertainment for the evening. He nods with a small smile, his modesty hindering any more from him.
It isn't too long after the crowds disperse into what looks like a typical night at The Lost Key when he glances at one of the booths in the back of the pub.
Shrouded beneath pools of cigarette smoke and lingering guests, Edward spots his sister from across the room, their eyes meeting in understanding. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Fuck."
Isabella's eyes lift at his voice, and she follows his gaze to land on the woman in the back. She recognizes Victoria from one of the women at Rosalie's place and doesn't have time to ask him how he knows her before she watches him make his way to where she waits.
Isabella watches him slide into the booth and wrap Victoria in his arms without a word.
Isabella has never felt more foolish.
See you soon!