…

Scheduled for Friday
by Anton M.

43: My Favorite Dragons

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Saturday, February 11 (cont.)

"She'll drop Riley off at seven. Jasper's going to blow a fuse, but he won't have time to be too pissed tonight, and you can still go."

My forehead pressed against the cold table as I kneeled on my bed and groaned, but I stopped immediately. The sound reminded me too much of Mike's whining.

Edward had a smile in his voice. "Is that the sound of how many hours it took you to convince your parents to still let you go?"

"Not my parents," I replied quietly. "Emmett."

"But he caved?"

"I'm not sure I'd call it caving. He's still pissed. But my parents are… I mean, dad thinks this was the most hilarious thing that's happened all year, but he had to be involved a total of, what, three minutes before you found me? He never had to doubt where I was. Mom wouldn't mind if I went to the party, but… the deal we finally made with Emmett was that I'd be attached to your hip. And, I mean, Emmett saw how angry you were, so he would've trusted you not to leave me alone for a nanosecond… even if he didn't want to let me go to begin with."

"I'm… sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"You can still go without me. Lots of people you know will be there. Do you want me to come by with my bike and take you to Jasper's and pretend I'll be there with you for Emmett? I'd have to come before seven, though."

I exaggerated my gasp. "Did Mr. No-Texting-In-Class really just suggest breaking the rules? Are you coming down with a fever?"

I felt his laughter in my toes. "Jasper might leave me with a pulse if you show up, and… I want you to have fun."

"I don't think it'll be as fun without you." I petted Jake's back, pausing. "Wait, no. That came out wrong. I'm very uninterested in whether or not you go and not at all enthusiastic to spend time with my boyfriend. No overeagerness here."

"I must be doing it wrong, then." The warmth in Edward's low voice lifted me up. "Was hoping to spend time with you tonight. I'm sorry."

The lighter underside of Jake's gray fur was revealed when I blew air on him. I sat up straighter as a thought occurred to me. "Wait, I can come help you babysit."

"Bella…"

"Is that an exasperated 'Bella' because you'd rather handle Riley alone or a cautious one because your dad's there and you're not ready for us to meet?"

"Neither. Dad's not home tonight. But I don't want to ruin your evening. You go. Have fun."

"Yeah, like that's gonna happen without you. Would you mind if I came to babysit with you?"

Cautious enthusiasm creeped into his voice. "Would your parents and Emmett even let you?"

"I mean… they'll want to talk to you. I think they fell a little bit more in love with you after you freaked out over my disappearance."

Emmett, relieved, considered babysitting a five-year-old a suitable punishment for me. My parents, too, were on board with the plan, so I changed into dark green sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. With my backpack full of dinner and snacks from pantry, and my helmet on the backseat (just in case), I drove myself to Sunrise Forest trailer park with my parents' car before dad took the driver's seat.

Except for two new single-wides, Gold Park Trail was ridiculously unchanged. Trees were scattered around ratty single-wides (and a few double-wides), most cars and trucks were from before Obama's presidency, and the surrounding pine forest kept the subdivision from slipping into the abyss.

I was blasted with a wave of nostalgia when Edward unlocked the doors to his double-wide, looking handsome and frazzled in his gray sweatpants and a worn hoodie. He took one look at the helmet in my arms and disappeared in the hallway. Reappearing, he kissed me and dropped a key in my palm. Reassured that I remembered Billy, he gave me instructions to leave the helmet in Billy's garage since Edward and his dad didn't have one.

I found Billy on his driveway. Billy was a black, white-haired retiree with a wooden leg who did not take lightly to kids playing on his yard (patch of grass, really) but was otherwise a sweet, extremely chatty seventy-year-old. He remembered me well, so not only did he open his garage for me (Edward's helmet and bike were in it), he was so eager to talk about how much I'd grown ('You a proper lady now!') and hear about how my parents were doing that I spent half an hour talking to him. He was surprised but not displeased to hear that I was dating Esme's grandson, and he beamed with pride over Edward's accomplishments.

Back at Edward's squeaky screen door, I heard crying even before I knocked. Edward gave me an exhausted smile but opened the doors wide for me.

"We're not having the time of our lives tonight," he said, locking the screen door and the main door before he entered a code to activate the security alarm. His smile was apologetic. "Not sure it was a good idea to have you over."

Feeling the force of his words, I stepped back. "I'm… sorry. I—didn't mean to add to your responsibilities."

Edward's expression softened. "Not what I meant." He stepped against me, cupped my cheeks and tilted my chin up to press a tender, lingering kiss against my lips. "I'm glad you're here, I just forgot to warn you that I can't spend much quality time with you tonight."

"I knew that," I replied, floating away in his hug-kiss before he squeezed my neck and released me.

"Make yourself at home."

Edward disappeared from my sight, and I heard him lower his voice as he cajoled Riley to stop crying. I took off my jacket and shoes.

For anyone who'd never been to a trailer or lived in one, it was sometimes a surprise that, save for negligible details, the insides of a trailer were near-identical with the insides of a house (and not an RV), and this was especially true for double-wides.

But the place had changed a lot.

Darker rectangles on the tapestry revealed the moving or removing of Esme's furniture that had left the walls undamaged from sunlight, but, I noted with amusement, my old drawing of an ugly bunny on a fat camel (I mean, lazy kid on a horse) was still framed in the hallway. An attempt had been made to contain clutter to shelves, but it spilled over to all sides of the rooms, and a lot of it looked like the green sheets from the insides of electronics with wires everywhere. An air mattress was pushed up against the wall of the living room where Esme's huge LED TV used to be, and ripped boxes in the corner contained what appeared to be Riley's clothes and toys.

Riley's wailing got louder as I approached the old-timey, beige-brown kitchen probably installed in the nineties. Edward lifted a messy-haired, puffy-eyed little boy onto the counter before he scooted a wonky bar stool under himself and moved his head in various ways to see the boy's eyes.

"Words, buddy," Edward said, his arms on either side of the boy. "Give me words. I cannot make you feel better if you won't tell me what's wrong."

Riley violently rubbed his damp face, all scrunched up into a grimace before his eyes fell on me and he hiccuped himself into silence.

Edward turned his head and smiled.

"Bella," he said, softly. He faced Riley. "Remember how I told you my girlfriend would come spend time with us? This is Bella. Bella, this is my cousin Riley."

Blue eyes wide, Riley continued to hiccup but forgot to cry as he blinked at me in silence. His T-shirt was soiled with ketchup or dusty fingers or both.

"You still hungry, buddy? You didn't have much. When did your mom last feed you?"

Edward took the boiled macaroni covered in ketchup and cheese from the table, microwaving it for half a minute before he offered it to Riley who was still staring at me in silence.

"C'mon, buddy. I know she's pretty but I don't want you to get hungry at night. C'mon. Five bites."

I lifted my backpack on a chair and put mom's left-overs into the empty fridge under the narrowed eyes of Edward before I crouched in front of Riley.

"And if you take ten, you can get my dad's apple pie for dessert. It's the best."

His alert eyes followed my hand as I revealed an entire pie from behind me. Riley opened his mouth without a word, and Edward fought hard not to laugh. Having dutifully swallowed all ten bites, Riley could barely finish a piece of pie before his face scrunched up again, but this time, he pressed his chin against his chest and crossed his arms, rubbing them.

"Are you cold?" Edward touched his forearms. "Ril-eeyy," he complained, aghast. "Why didn't you tell me? Is that why you were screaming your head off?"

The boy peeked up in a way that confirmed Edward's words, and when Edward discovered that Riley had poured a glass of juice on his pants, he lifted him up under his arm and made Riley squeal in delight.

"You're sticky. Off to shower with you."

Edward had barely told me to find a clean pair of pants and a T-shirt for Riley from his cardboard box before both reappeared in the living room, Riley wrapped in a towel under Edward's arm, delighted to be flown around.

"That was the shortest shower in the history of all showers."

"The water gets cold after five minutes," Edward explained, placing Riley down on the couch. "And we've learned our lesson about that, haven't we?"

Having put on clean, dry pants and a T-shirt, Riley sat, huddled in a throw while Edward and I searched for a long-sleeved shirt. Finding none in his box or in his overnight bag, I slipped out of my own black one and offered it to Edward.

"It's still bigger than him but it should do. You can give me one of your hoodies."

Edward grimaced. "It might get dirty."

"It's fine. Just take it."

He pecked my lips before opening the head hole of my long-sleeved T-shirt for Riley, and the simple act gave me the strangest sense of déjà vu. I'd certainly never been in this situation, but the way Edward insisted that Riley use his words, the way he opened the head hole to help Riley put the shirt on—I had not realized that his cute habits came from having to take care of his cousin so often. Together, we rolled the sleeves higher before Edward laid Riley's towel on top of a door and threw a comb at me.

The boy visibly recoiled.

"Riley," Edward warned, sitting on the other side of him, reaching for the comb in my hands. I hid it behind me.

"No."

Riley stared at me with wide, hopeful eyes while Edward squinted at me in confusion.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You can't. You don't comb 2c hair. Certainly not with a comb that has teeth so tight together."

"The what hair now?"

"2c. 2c is pretty curly, and you can't comb curly hair."

"Riley doesn't have curly hair."

"He most certainly does. Look here." I pointed behind my ear where Riley's strands had started curling up.

"That's because it's wet."

"That's because it's curly but it's so soft you comb the curls away. Let me tell you, as a curly-haired kid who was told to constantly comb my hair and then blamed for how fluffy and unkempt it looked—not by my parents—Riley has curly hair."

Edward, too, stared at me.

"You're telling me—you never comb your hair?"

"Not since I was seven or eight and we knew better."

"But, but—how does it look so amazing, then?"

I grinned at his compliment. "It looks amazing because I don't comb my hair, not because I do. I finger-comb after washing, and I moisturize, and… moisturize more. Oils and conditioners and endless products. It's been years of figuring out what works best for my hair. Do you have any oils or leave-in conditioner?"

When Edward returned with his granny's old leave-in conditioner, I kneeled on the couch and leaned closer to the boy.

"Is it okay if I touch your hair, Riley?"

The boy shifted, glancing at Edward for cues, but when Edward gave him a small smile, Riley agreed. Gently, I finger-combed his soft blond hair, added a smidge of leave-in conditioner, and taught the boys to scrunch rather than wipe his hair dry. I washed my hands before plopping down next to them again.

"I told you!" Riley shouted, grinning and pointing at his cousin. "I told you combing is bad!"

"Combing is not bad," I argued. "It's just not compatible with your hair type. Not a tight comb like this one, anyway."

Pretending not to hear me, Riley jumped up and ran to his boxes. He began to empty one at breakneck speed while Edward hid his face in his hands, groaning. I shifted next to him and squeezed his thigh.

"Sorry I fucked up," he muttered.

I brushed my thumb over his barbell and kept my voice equally quiet. "It's not your fault. My parents took seven years to understand that my hair wasn't supposed to be combed, not in the traditional sense. You had good intentions."

"My aunt has curly hair. I should've known." Edward rubbed his face and gave me a defeated smile. "What were those numbers and letters you were talking about, anyway?"

Edward and I ate my mom's leftovers as I explained curl pattern types to him and answered all his questions about my hair. Riley, far from the shy, quiet boy he'd seemed earlier, warmed up to me and chattered like an unhinged chatbot, running up to me with a new toy or book every few minutes. I tried to 'ooh' and 'aah' with appropriate enthusiasm, but I wasn't familiar with kids and didn't quite know what was expected of me. Edward was insanely patient with him, though, throwing Riley on his shoulder and flying him through the air like a plane before he declared Riley too heavy for the exercise and slumped down next to me, handsome as ever with his forehead shining with sweat. It was no wonder Edward was so fit with how frequently he made Riley squeal with happiness as he carried the boy around.

Like I'd thought, Riley's hair dried into somewhat fluffy 2c/3a curls, probably because his hair needed a different product to really flourish, but his wavy curls were much more obvious. His new hair made him giggle but he didn't seem upset by the change (more so probably because it meant no combing).

Jasper called Edward and sounded appropriately pissed off that Edward was missing the party Jasper had thrown in his honor, and Jasper blew a raspberry when he heard that I was here, too. He hung up on us. We laughed. I texted dad to confirm that I was alive and to hear when he would pick me up, but mom surprised me with a call and the suggestion that I spend the night. Not a question, a suggestion.

Noticing my goosebumps, Edward jogged to his room and threw one of his ragged-edged navy hoodies in my arms. He grinned at how I snuggled into it, sniffing it as I finished my call.

"Is it a little bit pathetic how much I adore wearing your hoodies?"

"That depends," Edward answered, glancing over at Riley before he sat closer and nuzzled his nose in my hair. His breath blew against my temple as he whispered, "Is it pathetic how much I love seeing you in them?"

Edward's bright eyes squeezed my heart when I kissed him. He pulled my knees in his lap. "So, reality check. When's your dad picking you up?"

"He's… not, if it's okay with you that I spend the night."

Frowning, Edward jerked his head back to focus on my eyes, but his hesitation churned my stomach. I still hadn't gotten over his outright acknowledgement that I was his responsibility, but I hadn't had time to talk to him about it, so I avoided his eyes.

"That's okay," I whispered, backtracking. "I didn't mean to cause more hassle for you. I'll call mom—"

Edward took hold of my wrist and tilted my chin up. "Give me a moment, baby." He gave me an embarrassed smile as he ran his palm over his buzz cut. "Of course you can stay. I just—I don't think I have an extra set of clean sheets or anything—"

"You do remember I've lived in a single-wide most of my life, right?"

"It's easy to forget with your parents getting me Jordans and Arais for my birthday."

"Well, I have. If you can give me, like, a pair of your underwear or pajamas or sweatpants or whatever, and a ratty old T-shirt, I'm good to go. I can take the couch—"

"Only if I'm in it," Edward interrupted. "Riley will wake up seven times a night, minimum, coming to look for me, and it freaks him out if I'm too far. And given the liking he's taken to you, he'd come check up on you, too, if you stayed in my bed. You're stuck with me on the lumpy old couch, I'm afraid."

I cast a glance at Riley smacking a truck against the foot of a chair and mimicking an explosion. "Do you think that's okay?"

Understanding exactly what I was asking, Edward smiled. "I don't see why his only memories of couples should be the ones shouting on top of their lungs. Cuddling on the couch is pretty tame in comparison."

"I still feel like I forced your hand," I admitted. "It's just that, I think my parents are just as eager to do their own thing as I am to do mine, and that's probably why they were so understanding of my fuck-up in the mall. I think I just got—I've spent every waking moment with another human for so long, usually one of my parents, and I… lost myself in that freedom. I'd be amazed if they weren't basking in my absence, too."

Eyes twinkling, Edward stifled his smile. I smacked his shoulder.

"Don't look like that. Those are my parents!"

"I didn't say anything!" Edward defended, grinning, leaning close to my ear and lowering his voice to a near-inaudible whisper. "But if you've been as big of a cockblock as you're describing—"

"Edward!" I half-shouted, laughing, amazed and a little bit relieved by what a teenage boy came out of my responsible boyfriend. Eyes sparkling, Edward took hold of my waist, and I didn't have time to defend myself against the tickle-attack I feared was coming when he threw me over his shoulder like a potato-sack and yelled,

"Guess who's going to be the fastest at brushing their teeth!"

A patter of passing feet were followed by a frantic, "Me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me!"

Twenty minutes later, after Edward had found me a suspiciously old but unopened neon yellow toothbrush (that we rinsed with boiling water), a brand new pair of boxer briefs (the hem of which I folded to make them not fall) and a giant white graphic T-shirt that fell to my lower thigh, we put the flowery, faded sheet that was really a (permanently stained) blanket cover on the pull-out couch. We cleaned our new piercings according to the instructions before Edward and I made a bed for Riley out of a blow-up mattress on the carpet. The boy couldn't stop talking as he took the table lamp from the kitchen counter to the floor of the living room, connecting it to an extension cord and creating a reading space on the floor above his pillow. He pulled a pile of children's books into the lit-up space.

Done with his task, he kneeled on his bed and looked up at me.

"Who's your favorite dinosaurus, ma'am?"

"Dinosaur," Edward corrected, looking endlessly adorable in his light blue pajama pants but no shirt. "But buddy, not everyone has—"

"Pachycephalosaurus," I answered, kneeling on the edge of his mattress and shaking off the strangeness of being called ma'am. "They have a ridiculous hat and I love them. Dreadnoughtus are cool, too. Humongous. What's yours?"

"Ooohh," Riley jumped up and down from excitement. "Patchy—"

"Pachy," Edward corrected, "Pachy- cephalo- saurus."

"Um, I haven't heard of that one. Show me!"

"Riley," Edward warned.

Riley sighed. "Show me, please."

The boy put an f where th should've been, but Edward didn't correct that, and Riley gasped when I zoomed in on Google Images.

"So cool. Um, mine is Chosmo—"

"Chasmo," Edward corrected.

"Chasmosaurus. They also have a weird head thingy. Edward's is stegosaurus. What's your favorite color?"

Edward facepalmed. "Buddy, I bet Bella's tired and you'll wear her out with your questioning—"

I covered Edward's knee with my palm. "S'okay." Turning to Riley, I tugged at Edward's pajama pants, remembering how important my favorite color had felt when I was little. "This. Light blue. But I never wear it because it washes me out. You can't imagine how jealous I am that Edward can pull it off."

Riley laughed. "That's silly, why would you wash your clothes when you're inside them?"

Edward shook his head. "If a color washes you out, it makes you look… it doesn't match your skin, I think," he explained.

"But you're pretty! I don't believe you."

Edward leaned forward and covered my hand with his, eyes bright and adorable. "The man makes good sense," he muttered into my ear, tugging at my heart. If I had a peacock's tail, I would've fluffed it.

"Do you know what Edward's favorite color is?" Riley whispered, leaning close and stifling his giggles.

"What?"

"Edward's favorite color is—" Riley threw his arms in the air and laughed, "pink!"

Unsure if he was joking, I searched Edward's eyes but Edward only raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips in a line, as if to say, 'You got a problem with that?'

I kind adored this discovery, actually.

"Technically—" Edward took my hand in both of his and spoke against my knuckles, "Technically, dark fuchsia is my favorite color. But pink is close enough."

Remembering my parent's odd choice for his sneakers, I asked, "My parents know, don't they?"

Edward pressed a kiss against my knuckles, nodding.

"One time," Riley began, now talking so loud that Edward had to put his finger on his lips to draw Riley's attention to his volume. "One time," Riley repeated, quieter. "Leander told me I can't have pink shoeplaces—"

"Laces, buddy. Shoelaces."

"Yes, and that only gay boys had pink clothes. Edward comed to pick me up, and heard, and got himself a pink T-shirt, and, and, wore it every day that month when he come picked me up! And Leander was big scared of Edward and didn't say anything!" Riley paused, frowning. "But mommy says that boys are not supposed to know colors that are not—colors."

"Well, your mom can go—" Edward caught himself just in time, eyes sparkling as he shook his head. Still snuggling against my hand, he leaned closer to his cousin. "Do you want to know a secret, buddy?"

Riley's eyes went wide as excitement twinkled in his eyes. "What?"

Lowering his voice to a near-whisper, Edward said, "These rules are made up. You can like whatever you like and it doesn't mean a thing other than that you enjoy them."

Riley squinted, turning his head, his eyes flickering between us. "I don't understand."

"Boys can like pink and dolls and jewelry. It doesn't have to mean anything. Girls can like trucks and explosions and fixing things. You don't need rules for what you like, buddy. Whatever you like, enjoy it."

Riley jumped. "Leah loves Mr. Blubberwhistle!"

"His firetruck," Edward whispered to me before nodding at Riley. "There you go."

Then, the boys eyes went comically wide when he looked between me and Edward, almost breathless with this new discovery. "Can I like flowers?"

Edward almost laughed. "Of course you can like flowers."

"Can I like petunias?"

"Whatever you want, buddy. As long as it doesn't hurt anybody."

Pondering this life-changing epiphany, Riley sat in silence for a moment before he cleared his throat and whispered, "Can I tell Leah this secret? She was big sad yesterday because her mommy wouldn't let her cut her hair short."

"Please do."

Done with the topic, Riley pushed his pillow aside and scooted to the edge of his mattress. He shifted through his stack of children's books before he found what he wanted and put one on his pillow.

Looking up at me, he asked, "Who's your favorite dragon, ma'am?"

I smiled. "You can call me Bella."

"Um, Mrs. Brannen says we call girls by their names but ladies ma'am, and you're not a girl, you're a lady."

My grimace made Edward laugh but he just shrugged and left me to fend for myself.

But the fact that Edward was still absent-mindedly holding my knuckles to his lips was sending the cutest swarms of butterflies through my heart.

"Toothless," I answered, knowing I had to get used to the ma'aming at some point. "Or Yamamï. Both are the coolest." I realized only a few blinks later that I'd just seamlessly brought Underground Memories into the conversation. "What about you?"

"Night Fury is awesome," Riley replied. "I like Light Fury better, though. Is that other one from Nala's story?"

"It is."

Riley sighed and made a face. "I want to read the dragon parts but Edward says I'm too young."

"You are, buddy. Give it a few years."

"But I wanna read it now."

"Have you read it?" I interrupted the argument, feeling my heart in my throat as I admired Edward's soft green eyes.

"Jasper gifted me the set for Christmas, but everyone I know disappears for a week to read them and I haven't had time to do that. I've set out to do it on spring break."

An anvil lifted off my shoulders.

Keeping my voice carefully neutral, I searched his eyes. "But you know the premise?"

The corner of his mouth rose. "Everyone knows the premise, baby. The healer who brings words of the dead back and the warrior who puts the country back together with her. It's like not knowing Harry Potter is a wizard. Why, are you a fan?"

"A little bit." Heart somersaulting through my chest, I pressed a kiss against his knuckles. "You are in for one hell of a ride, though, especially—"

"Aahhh!" Riley shouted, yanking at my wrist. He put his finger on his lips and hissed, "Shhh! He doesn't want spoilers!"

Unable to be any more delighted by this knowledge than I already was, I grinned. "Yeah?"

"Jasper has to send Mrs. Brantley a love letter if he spoils any significant part of it," Edward explained with laughter in his eyes.

I grinned and kissed his knee. Feeling absurdly overjoyed by my hope that I could pull him into the world of Nala in my own time, I casually asked Riley about the book he was (impatiently) holding, Dragonology: The Complete Book of Dragons by Dugald Steer. Edward admitted that it was probably not appropriate for his age but the library hadn't had The Knight and the Dragon by Tomie dePaola, and Riley, refusing all children's books unrelated to dragons or dinosaurs, was obsessed with Dragonology. The boy scooted to the edge of his mattress, patting his side, and Edward tilted his head to motion for me to lie down. Edward lay half on top of me to fit us all, and Riley turned the pages to Classification of Dragons by Habitat before he looked up at me with his clear blue eyes.

"You read," he stated.

Grinning, I voiced the paragraph in a high-pitched, exaggerated tone, one that made Riley clap his hands in delight. "Whoa. More! Do the next one, too!"

Feeling encouraged, I cleared my throat and began to read Different Species of Dragon in a rippling, rumbly male dragon voice, exaggerating his lisp, "While it ee-z likely zh-at all zh-ese Western dragon specie-z—"

Riley fell off the mattress. It was not a painful fall, ten inches at best, but he stared at me with the widest alarmed eyes from the carpet, panting.

"What the—" Edward whispered, jerking his head back, gaping. "How the fuck does a tiny girl like you produce a sound like that?"

I blinked.

I'd defaulted to Yamamï.

Holy shit would he have figured me out had he not been avoiding UM spoilers.

"I've always been good at weird sounds," I backtracked, feeling the heat of Edward's arm on my back as my heart thundered in my ears. "Drove my parents crazy when I was little." Pretending it was no big deal, I helped Riley back on the mattress. "Sorry, Riley. I didn't mean to scare you. I won't do it again."

"No!" he refused. "More! I want more."

"That's okay. I don't want you to get bad dreams."

"Edward always says that running away from what you're scared of makes you more scared. Say something funny in that voice!"

I paused, thinking. "Why can't Zh-inderella play zh-occer?"

"Why?"

I leaned closer, grinning. "Because zh-e's always running away from zh-e ball."

Riley laughed like it was the funniest joke he'd ever heard. Smiling, Edward squeezed my shoulder as his green eyes lingered on my face, soft and full of admiration.

"Fuck you're talented," he whispered, straight into my ear, and for that low voice alone I could've spilled all my secrets.

I read several more pages in different voices, adding inflections, accents and stutters as I went, avoiding Yamamï not only for its implications for my role(s) but for his impact on my voice. Riley, dead tired but excited and refusing to close his eyes, finally fell asleep during mid-sentence when I tried to read as a whispery fairy with the tiniest voice. Quietly, Edward and I extracted ourselves from Riley's mattress, gently scooting Riley to the middle and covering him with a blanket. I switched off the lamp. Edward opened his laptop, put it to charge, and turned up the volume of the sound of waves crashing on the shore.

"White noise," he whispered. "He sleeps better with sounds around him."

Holding out his hand to me, he looked ridiculously handsome in his pajama pants. A few birthmarks were scattered on his fit, pale chest, and a happy trail under his belly button led to the bulge in his pants I couldn't deny I'd done some wondering about.

Catching me staring, Edward pulled me into his arms, licking his lips, eyes blazing under his beautifully long eyelashes.

"You can't look at me like that yet, baby," he whispered, his low feather-soft voice sending a wave of tingles down my spine.

Glad he couldn't see the rush of blood on my face, I smiled against his chest. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he muttered, casting a glance at Riley before he kissed my hair. "Come. Let me make you feel better about how hip your bedroom looks."

…