A/N

Hi! Hopefully this longer chapter makes you forget about the length of time it took me to update!

Happy New Year to all. I hope 2024 brings you everything you want.

S. Meyer owns all things Twilight.

Now, let's get to the date.

Chapter 18

BPOV

Edward holds my hand as we ride the elevator down to the lobby. I lean into him, catching the faint scent of his cologne—musky and sweet. Quintessentially him. The numbered floors whiz by, and then there's the soft, subtle ping as they open, and we step out together.

"Not even a hint?" I ask.

He shakes his head and looks at my outfit through my open coat. "Good choice. Warm."

"Ice fishing?"

He shakes his head again and chuckles before towing me past the welcome desk. Pam is working tonight. She waves at us, and I bristle when her eyes linger on Edward for a beat too long.

"Have a good evening." Her voice is a little too loud— like she's trying too hard.

Edward turns in her direction, and I watch her tuck some hair behind her ear—her signature move. The first time I noticed it was about six months ago when she started working here. Anytime a male guest, or tenant for that matter, was in her orbit, it became the Pam show. Nothing too obvious, of course. She'd touch them on the sleeve while telling them the latest story about how the maintenance guys constantly hit on her, or she'd throw her head back and laugh, throaty and deep. It reminded me of Ursula from The Little Mermaid. But men seemed to like her.

She also gets half off her rent for working here. Smart bitch.

She bites her lip and stares at Edward, and when her eyes shift to mine, my insecurities rise to the surface, threatening to erupt like Old Faithful.

Back off, Pam.

Edward stops right in front of Ursula and leans down, cupping my face with a gloved hand and kissing me—hard. When he pulls back, he slings an arm around my shoulder and walks us toward the door.

"Thanks," he says over his shoulder. "We will."

We step out into the frigid night, and he helps me button my coat under the lights of the building. I watch his fingers push the gold discs through the holes of my brown overcoat, and I stretch up on my toes to kiss him.

"What was that about?" I say.

He pulls the lapels of my jacket together as the snow gathers on the tips of his hair before leaning down to rub his nose against mine.

"Can't I kiss my girlfriend without an ulterior motive?"

I stare up at him, happiness shooting through every cell of my body like an electric current.

His girlfriend

He pulls back, eyes wide, before running a hand through his hair and blowing out a breath.

"Jesus, I'm sorry. You probably think I'm—"

I put my finger over his lips. I like that he claimed me as his in front of Pam. And you know what? It isn't too soon to put a label on us. Not for me. This is right. Edward is right. Edward and I together are right. I look past his shoulder into the parking lot. We're the only two people out here, and the serenity of the silently falling snow makes it seem almost magical. I kiss him again before hooking my arm through his.

"Come on, boyfriend. Let's go."

He smiles and hustles us to the car. Once inside and settled, I watch him jog around the front of the vehicle. I feel a stirring in "my lady parts," as Alice likes to call them, as I admire his trim physique. It's his coat. Well, it's not just the coat. Edward makes me hot in ways that have nothing to do with his wardrobe. But, damn, he could be a DIOR model in that thing. The man can wear a coat.

When he slides into the driver's seat and smiles at me, I realize I don't care where we're going. We can sit in Costco and eat hot dogs for all I care. As long as I'm with him and he keeps looking at me the way he is now. Although seriously, have you had Costco hotdogs? They're insanely good. Edward turns on the heat before removing his gloves and holding his hands up to the vents.

"It'll get warm in a minute."

I put my fingers out in front of me, feeling the blast of hot air before turning to him.

"So, you're really not going to tell—"

He leans across the console between us, swooping in and planting his lips on mine before shaking his head. "Put your seatbelt on."

I pull the strap across my body and then hear the satisfying click as the metal slips into the slot. I stick my tongue out at him. "Put your seatbelt on."

~!~

We cruise up the North Side, and as we get closer to the river, I see the lights up ahead.

"Navy Pier?"

Edward grips the steering wheel, and I notice a steady tick in his left eyebrow. I sit forward with a grin.

"It's totally Navy Pier, isn't it?"

His face remains stoic, giving nothing away, and when we turn a corner and I see the top of the Ferris wheel, I squeal in delight.

"It's not too touristy?" he says. "Too cliché?" Too … Hallmark movie?"

I shake my head.

"No. Absolutely not." My tone is matter of fact. "No way. We would need to be in a small town for that. And I'd have to own a café or a bakery or something." I'm not just trying to appease him, either. It's just facts. If I know nothing else, I know the elements that make up a good Hallmark movie.

He turns into the parking lot. "Okay, so we know that's not happening anytime soon."

I lean back against the headrest and give him the side eye. "Haha. I can make … stuff."

Edward looks at me with a raised eyebrow. "You can't make toast."

"Whatever. Okay, well, forget about a bakery. Let me think." I put my finger to my chin and then point toward the ceiling in an ah-ha moment. "You'd have to be a single dad." I smack him on the arm as another idea hits me. "No, wait, a widower, raising a kid by yourself, you'd…" I trail off, suddenly feeling like a complete idiot, when I realize how close to home I've come with that analogy. "Edward, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

He shakes his head. "It's fine."

"No, it's not. I shouldn't have said that. I wasn't thinking. I—"

We're in the parking spot now, and he kills the engine before looking at me.

"Bella?"

I look up, feeling like a complete jerk. "What?"

He leans over and kisses me softly before smiling against my lips. "Shut up."

~!~

I sit on the bench while Edward kneels in front of me, lacing up my skates. I look around the crowded Pier and then to the rink, where a father helps a little girl shuffle across the ice. Her puffy blue coat has white furry trim around the hood. She's probably around five or six and holds onto her dad's hand tightly through her wool mitten.

"I've never been here," I say. I've lived only a few miles from this place since I moved to Chicago, and I've never been here. I watch an older couple glide across the ice. His hand rests at her waist as their feet move in perfect symmetry. Her grey hair is covered by a red woolen hat and hangs in a single thick braid down her back. Their smooth strokes are flawless, and I wonder if they were professionals at some point. My mind conjures up a romance for the ages, where they were partners—maybe bound for the Olympics—and couldn't fight their feelings, ultimately falling in love.

I look down at Edward's bowed head. His russet hair ruffles under the light breeze as he crosses the laces back and forth through the small silver hooks on my skate. He pulls tighter with each pass until he reaches the top, where he finishes off with a triple knot.

"Um, Edward?"

He looks up. "Yeah?"

I point to my foot. "I'd like to be able to feel my toes if that's okay."

"Oh shit. Sorry." He shakes his head before untying the knot and loosening everything below my ankle. My circulatory system breathes a sigh of relief. "How's that?" His fingers slide up my leg, brushing over my tights and resting on my knee. When I look down, his eyes burn into mine. "Better?"

I nod. "That's perfect."

I place my hand on his shoulder, and he steadies me as I stand. I've gained a few inches, but he's taller, too, in his black hockey skates, and I still only come up to the middle of his chest. We walk across the rubber flooring toward the rink.

"You've really never been here before?" he asks. "I mean, I know how much you love skating."

I grab the railing as we reach the edge of the rink and look up at him with a wrinkled brow. "How did you—"

He places his hands around my waist and lifts me over the lip of the rink before setting me on my feet again. His hands linger on my hips. "You told George, remember?"

I stare up at him, fighting the moisture welling in my eyes. That night. The night I stayed over at his place during the snowstorm. The night George insisted I see Riley's greenhouse. George asked me what felt like a million questions that night. Why didn't I like coffee? What was my dog's name? Did work have other days like Hawaiian Shirt Day? Maybe crazy sock day or pajama day? Did I like sports? That led to a discussion about how much he loved The Blackhawks.

"My dad took me to a game once, Bella. It was so cool." He looked at his brother. "Wasn't it cool Hen? And mom said I can join the pee wee league when I'm old enough." He grinned his infectious George grin. "It's gonna be so great."

And that's when I told him about growing up in Maine and how I skated on the big pond on my parent's property every winter since I was five. He'd looked at me with wide eyes.

"You had it to yourself? Whenever you wanted?" I smiled. "Yep. Anytime I wanted." I looked out at the snow piling up outside and thought about some of the things I'd given up since moving here. "I really miss it sometimes, George."

I had no idea Edward had been listening.

I stand on my toe picks and lean into him while reaching up to wrap my arms around his neck. He grips my waist and stares down into my upturned face.

"Thank you for bringing me here," I whisper.

He bows his head and brushes his lips across mine. "Thank you for coming with me."

~!~

We spend almost an hour on the ice. Edward is good at everything, and skating is no exception. He keeps pace with me as we circle the outskirts of the rink, and at one point, he turns and starts going backward. He zigs and zags in front of me, and I dig into the ice to speed up and catch him. When I do, I fall into his arms before he grabs my hand and turns us effortlessly without missing a step. We circle a few more times until he jerks his head toward one of the exits.

"Hot chocolate?" he asks.

I nod, and we race each other toward the opening. He beats me by only a fraction of a second until I'm right up on him. The inside edges of my blades dig in at an angle, sending up shards of ice and creating that satisfying whoosh of a perfectly executed hockey stop. He smiles down at me, his heavy breaths from our exertions puffing out in front of him into the night air. His eyes sparkle like tiny diamonds under the illumination from the overhead string lights. He takes my hand before leading me toward a nearby pavilion. I look over my shoulder at the smattering of people still on the ice as the snow falls lightly around them. I want to remember this night and how Edward made me feel. Forever.

~!~

The Purple Pig is a five-minute walk from the Pier. It's renowned for its Mediterranean cuisine and vast array of tasty cocktails. While it still attracts tourists, the area has a quieter, less hectic vibe than the Pier. We're seated at a high-top table with an array of cheeses and prosciutto in front of us, along with an assortment of marinated olives. I wrap a piece of cured meat around a hunk of Brie and shovel it into my mouth.

"Holy shit," I mumble. "This is fantastic."

Edward skewers an olive that's almost the size of a golf ball and pops it into his mouth. "I told you."

I take a sip of my cranberry martini and look around the restaurant. "I need to get out more."

"Henry loves the Eggplant Parmesan Balls." He picks up his beer and chuckles.

"What?"

"I was just thinking about George. He cracks up every time someone says "balls."

I smile. "How are they?"

Edward leans back in his chair with a grin and lights up from the inside like he always does when he talks about the boys. "They're really great." He looks down at his clothes. "They helped me get ready for tonight." He quirks a brow. "Although George would have had me in Santa boxers with no pants."

I conjure up a visual and can't say I disagree with George. Edward in just his boxers would be fine with me.

"You told them you were seeing me?"

He nods. "They told me not to mess it up."

I laugh before wiping my mouth with a napkin. "Do they, um … I mean, do they know about what happened with Kate?"

Edward sighs. "Not all of it, of course. They didn't really know Kate. She only visited once, and that was when I first came out here. Henry's older and a little more perceptive, but they both accepted my answer when I said it just didn't work out for us."

I place a few olives on my plate but don't meet his eyes. "And she hasn't, um, reached out to you or anything?"

When he doesn't respond, I look up to find him staring at me intently. "No," he says. I swallow, feeling foolish for bringing it up. We're having such a nice time, and I had to ruin it. But people can have second thoughts or change their minds. What if Kate wanted Edward back? I open my menu again, raising it so it obscures my face.

"Um, what else is good here?"

I see a finger at the top of my menu, and Edward slowly pushes down until I have no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes are soft.

"Kate and I are over Bella. Know that."

I bite the inside of my cheek and nod. "I do know that. I'm sorry."

He reaches his hand across the table and grasps mine. "I get it. It's going to take us some time to navigate this. I don't know about you, but my brain is a little fuzzy because I'm so attracted to you. That's all I can think about. You're so goddamn beautiful, and I kind of lose track of everything else." I look down at our clasped hands and smile. "But, know this, Bella. I'll be honest with you about everything. You can ask me anything. Nothing is off-limits. I won't be offended, and I won't lie." I nod again and squeeze his hand. He smiles. "And as for what's good? I have it on high authority that the parmesan balls are out of this world."

He raises his beer bottle, and I clink my glass against his.

"Parmesan balls it is then."

~!~

Two hours later, Edward's car idles outside my building. From my perch in the passenger seat, I look at the large glass doors and then to Edward. "Will you come up?"

He watches me, almost like he's waiting for me to clarify that question. Do I want him to come up to have a hot make-out session on my couch? Well, duh. Or do I want it to be more? My lady parts want more. But I know I should tread carefully. Edward was right when he said attraction makes things fuzzy. The more rational part of me knows we should take this slow. But the part of me that hasn't had sex in almost a year is clamoring for rational to take a hike.

Edward leans over and presses his forehead against mine. "I want to," he breathes. "God, you don't know how much I want to."

"But …"

He sighs. "I want to do this right, Bella." He pulls back and looks into my eyes. "You're it for me," he whispers. "And I want to do this right."

I press my forehead to his again and nod. "Me too."

He kisses me softly. "Do you want to come over tomorrow for dinner? See the boys? I know they miss you." He smiles. "George in particular."

I cup his face. "I would love that."

"Great," he says. "I can pick—"

Our phones chime at the same time. Edward picks his up from the console and I pull mine out of my pocket.

"Calendar invite," Edward says. "From Mr. V."

The car illuminates with the glow from my phone when I open my email.

"Same."

I look at the subject line.

HR/James Dornan

"I guess word travels fast," I say. It's only been two days since the altercation with James at the bar. It feels like it was much longer than that. "I wonder who told him about it."

We look at each other, and I roll my eyes before we speak simultaneously.

"Amy Vining."

See you soon! Thanks so much for reading!