Y'all are the best. I wanted to post this on Valentine's, but life. lol thanks for reading.
55
- love language -
Edward
Once Allie storms out, Jasper follows after her.
I'm too pissed to speak.
My parents must be stunned too because they also stay quiet.
It's Bella who breaks the silence.
"I… I think I'm going to call it a night," she says too quietly, staring at her plate. "Thank you for dinner. For everything. And I'm sorry about… that."
"Don't," I say firmly. "Baby, you did nothing wrong."
"Yes, please don't apologize. We're so, so sorry," my mom insists, looking at Dad who nods in agreement.
"We don't know what that was about," he says, "but it was truly unacceptable on Allie's part."
Bella doesn't reply. I watch her too closely and get the feeling she wants to get the fuck out of here.
I kind of do, too.
Without a single word, I scoot my chair back and help her out of hers. With a hand on the small of her back, I guide us down the hall and into the guest room.
Once the door is closed, I immediately envelop her in a hug.
"I'm so fucking sorry," I breathe out into her hair.
Silently, we hug for a minute.
"I just want this day to be over," she sniffles, face pressed against my chest. "I need this awkward phase of our reconciliation to be done. I want to get to the good part where this is all behind us and the baby is here and no one thinks about the stupid time we spent apart."
"I know. It's okay," I soothe, and she pulls back to look up at me. "I hate seeing you like this. And I hate that I couldn't keep that shit from happening."
"You couldn't have known what she'd say or do." She shrugs, a little defeated. "Neither of us could. When I talked with her alone, she said she wanted to put everything behind us but…"
"Yeah, I call bullshit."
Bella nods. "I'm just… mortified. Overwhelmed and exhausted, and I think I want to shower," she says flatly.
I feel helpless, unsure how to fix this and make her feel better.
"Okay," I mumble. "A shower might help you relax."
"Go help your parents clean up," she urges. "I feel bad for running out like that."
"They understand, Bell. Don't worry about that. I'm not leaving you," I say, finality in my tone as I take off my suit jacket and toss it on the chair.
I help unzip her dress and start the shower for her. With a kiss on her cheek, I wordlessly leave the bathroom, giving her space.
While she showers, I sit on the bed and pull out my phone.
I contemplate calling Allie but I know nothing good will come from it.
From the way I'm fucking feeling right now, I'd likely tell her she's never going to meet her niece and that until she can respect my wife, she doesn't deserve to speak to either of us ever again.
My phone buzzes with a text but it's Jasper's number that appears.
Jasper: Sorry about that, man. I hope Bella's okay.
I dissect his message for any hint of Allie, but I can't find my sister in any part of it.
I thank him but say nothing else because I'm not sure Bella is okay.
Tossing my phone on the bed, I move toward the bathroom, opening the door to check on her.
"You good in here?" I call out.
She pulls the curtain back and peeks her head out. "Yeah. I'm almost done."
"You want some tea? Any snacks?"
"Sure, tea sounds good. Thank you."
She offers a half-hearted smile before closing the curtain.
I find my parents in the kitchen, finishing cleaning up. Dad's doing the dishes because he claims Mom doesn't wash them well enough. And Mom is loading the dishwasher because Dad doesn't do it right.
They've always been that way. Compromising in their relationship. Complementing the other. They haven't made marriage look easy, but worth it. I'm fucking grateful to have them and their support, even if I don't tell them enough.
"How is she?" my mom asks when she sees me.
I shrug. "Not great. She's showering. I came to make her tea."
"Oh, let me," she insists, turning on the electric kettle, and grabbing a mug and teabag out of the cabinet.
"Jasper texted me and apologized," I say. "It's not his place to do that, though. He didn't do shit."
"I tried calling Allie," my mom admits. "She sent me to voicemail."
"I should've known she was going to pull some shit," I mutter angrily. "She's always interfering. When she was in LA and talked to Bella alone, she fucking told her that I deserve better and to let me go."
My mom looks horrified and my dad shakes his head.
"We didn't know," Mom says in disbelief. "I would've talked to Allie beforehand if we knew."
"Well, I didn't want to tell you because I stupidly thought she'd be able to be mature tonight," I mutter.
"I'm sorry, honey. Neither of you need or deserve this right now." I watch her prepare the tea in her signature way. "We feel awful, but please tell Bella not to stress. It's not good for her or the baby. We'll handle Allie, okay?"
"I don't know. I kind of think I need to be the one to lay into her," I say, irritated.
"Not tonight. Go take care of your wife."
"I will," I promise, grabbing the tea. "Thank you. For everything."
She squeezes my arm. "We're about to head to bed, but help yourself to anything else you need. We'll see you in the morning."
When I'm back in the room, Bella's already in bed and under the blanket.
"My mom made it for you. She added honey, lemon, and an ice cube so it'd cool off faster," I tell her, placing it on the nightstand.
Bella sits up to take a sip, her damp hair hanging around her pretty face. "That was sweet of her."
I unbutton my shirt and undress down to my boxers before turning off the lamp and crawling into bed with her. Garland glows from the fireplace mantle.
"Should I turn it off?" I ask.
"No, I like it. It's festive and makes the room all dreamy and soft."
We get settled, lying in silence.
"Maybe all of this was just too soon," she whispers. "We should've eased into this."
"That outburst had nothing to do with timing or us, and everything to do with Allie," I insist.
"Deep down, I get that. But it doesn't make it easier?"
"We knew this wasn't going to be easy," I remind her. "In no way am I saying that to excuse Allie, though. What she did was unacceptable. Everyone agrees. Jasper even texted me when you were in the shower to say he was sorry."
"Yeah, I knew it was going to be hard, but… not like that," she mumbles, closing her eyes. "Maybe we should stay at a hotel."
Under the blanket, I drape an arm over her waist and pull her closer to me. She doesn't open her eyes until I place a lingering kiss on her forehead.
"If you want to leave, we can. I'm not going to force you to stay here when you feel uncomfortable. But Allie and Jasper aren't staying here anyway. We're already in bed. So maybe we should at least stay for the night," I offer.
"Okay."
"I'm so sorry that happened," I whisper. "I had a feeling she'd be petty, but not that fucking low."
"Please don't apologize anymore," she pleads. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You handled everything as best you could. You stood by me. Tried to protect me, like you promised. So, thank you. I love you."
"I love you." I press a gentle kiss to her lips. "But, God, I kind of hate my sister right now."
"Don't," she mumbles. "She loves you. She does. And even if she might not like me anymore… don't hate her. It's going to make our lives a living hell."
"I don't care. If she's going to treat you like that, especially in front of my parents, then I'm done with her," I say fiercely. "I won't fucking allow that ever again."
She smiles sadly. "I just don't know what she wants, you know? Like, other than apologizing and immersing ourselves in the mess and trying to move forward together, there isn't much else we can do. And this has nothing to do with her. It's all you and me. Our decision. Our life."
"I can't lie, it was pretty sexy watching you put her in her place," I say, a small smile tugging at my mouth. "You didn't stoop to her level. You told her how it fucking was. And it just… yeah. I hate that it had to happen at all, and I hate that you're stressing now. But goddamn. You were on fire."
"I don't even know how I did that, but I'm so glad I did. I felt sick right after she left, though. Like, all the adrenaline I felt during our confrontation wore off or something."
I frown. "You feel okay now though?"
"Yeah. The shower helped. And the tea," she promises. "Did your parents say anything when you went out there?"
"They're pissed at Allie, and they're worried about you. They feel bad and don't want you to have this stress. I don't want you to stress either. It's not good for you or the baby."
"Well, ugh. Now I'm worried about worrying too much," she laughs humorlessly. "But I'll stop. We don't have to talk about what happened anymore. I don't want to, honestly."
"I know it's hard, but try to relax," I say, voice low, sliding my hand from her hip to her lower back, massaging.
"Ooof. Feels good," she sighs, closing her eyes again.
I knead gently. Purposefully. My hand slides under her oversized T-shirt, my fingers pressing into her skin.
We're quiet for a few minutes, just her soft moans and hums of approval filling the space.
"What are you thinking about?" I eventually ask.
"You."
"Me?" I echo.
"Yeah, you. What's new?" she teases, opening her eyes. "I'm thinking about how your touch just… grounded me. Relaxed me. Nothing else matters," she says seriously. "I'm curious—what's your love language?"
I laugh once, the massage slowing. "Um… what do you mean?"
"Love languages came up in a past therapy session with Jane," she explains. "There are five different ways people express and experience love. With words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time, and physical touch."
"What's yours?"
"Mine is sort of split. I think one way I want to experience love is with quality time. I want to be around the people I love as much as I can."
"Like when I came to your house the other night and you wanted me to stay, even if we weren't doing anything special?"
"You being there at all was special to me," she counters, her fingers grazing my jaw. "But essentially, yes. I also need physical touch. I think both of those things are because I didn't get much affection, or quality time and attention, as a kid."
My stomach hurts from hearing that. From knowing Bella ever lacked anything she fucking wanted or needed growing up.
"I hate that, Bell," I mutter.
"I mean, it is what it is. Nothing I can do about it now other than recognize it and do better than they did."
"I'm proud of you," I say, and she groan-laughs. "No, I am. I hope you don't ever forget that."
"I won't," she whispers, kissing me.
"So, okay. Love languages. You got me curious now—how do you express love?"
"You tell me," she suggests.
I don't know how to answer that.
I fall silent for so long that she frowns and searches my face, looking the slightest bit guilty.
"I haven't been the best at showing you my love in the past. But I want to change that if you'll let me," she says sweetly. "Maybe if I know what you need, I can try harder. How do you want or need to experience love?"
"With you," I say simply.
She smiles a little. "No, like, what are your love languages?"
"You're my love language, Bella. I don't know how else you want me to explain it. Maybe I'm too simple of a man for all of this therapy shit."
"Simple? You are not simple," she says indignantly.
"Yeah. I don't know."
"You're smart. You're confident and charismatic. You're loyal and loving. You're driven, but not a workaholic. You're so fucking handsome that it hurts me sometimes. Like, actually makes me ache. Right here," she insists, grabbing my hand and placing it between her collarbone and breasts. "You're selfless. So, so nurturing, and the way you give love is by acts of service. You do so much for me, and you've probably done things I don't even know about because that's the kind of man you are. You're humble. You don't do stuff to earn praise. You do things without expecting to get anything out of it. So maybe that's simple, but to me, you're nuanced and amazing. You're everything to me. Got it?"
I'm quiet, taking in her blurted admission.
For the first time in a long time—maybe even ever—it fucking feels like she sees me.
It's strange hearing about myself from her point of view. But it's good, too. It does something to me. Something I'm not sure I can really verbalize, but I try anyway.
Removing my hand from her chest, I cup her face and tenderly brush her cheek.
"The way I just felt hearing all of that…" I pause and swallow hard. "I think I need words of affirmation from you. It's stupid, but I need constant reminders of how you feel about me because you withheld all of that for what felt like so fucking long."
"It's not stupid," she softly chides. "I'm sorry I hurt you like that. I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself."
"Baby, no. I didn't say that to make you feel guilty," I say honestly.
She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off with an abrupt kiss that she welcomes.
My mouth opens, coaxing hers to part so our tongues can brush.
Arousal kicks in the way it always does when I'm like this with her.
It's natural.
This doesn't have to be more, though.
Not yet.
When she touched me in the bathroom earlier, all I thought about was him and her. What he said and did to make her feel comfortable enough to sleep with him.
Was it only one time, like she said?
Did he sleep in her bed?
Did he fucking kiss her goodbye the next morning?
This is why I can't risk starting more and having my brain go there again because it stupidly wants to fill in the blanks. But I know if I had the details, I wouldn't forget.
She kisses me back harder like she craves this closeness, and it brings me back to the present.
My hand roams from her cheek down her chest.
Along her ribcage.
Over her hip.
Squeezing her ass.
Her soft, sultry moan goes straight to my dick.
Earlier she admitted she's been horny. So maybe being this way with her now is unfair.
But maybe I can take care of her without focusing on me.
I can try.
"Bella…"
I sound tortured. Too turned on.
She opens her eyes, a little dazed. "Yeah?"
"Can I touch you?" I whisper into her mouth.
She's coy. "You are touching me."
"No… here." I slide a hand between us, rubbing that delicious spot over the cotton of her leggings.
She moans again.
"But you said…" she trails off, words caught in her throat because I'm still rubbing her but this time in slow, purposeful circles.
"I know what I said. And I still think we should wait," I say, my voice deadly low. "But that doesn't mean I can't make you feel good."
I expect some hesitation, but she doesn't overthink it.
"Yeah… touch me," she breathes out. "Please."
With my mouth on hers, I slide my hand down the front of her leggings and into her underwear.
When I feel how fucking soft and smooth she is, a tortured groan escapes from the back of my throat.
It feels like she got waxed or something, which is a first for her.
It makes my head go to a bad place.
When did she start doing that?
Why?
Was she waxed for him?
Or did she start that after?
It's too jarring and new but I don't want to ask because I don't want to ruin this for her.
"I got waxed the other week for the first time," she explains. "Hurt like a motherfucker, but I know I won't be able to see past my stomach soon to shave, and I got in my head about it. I know the last time you saw me… I wasn't…"
I can feel the self-consciousness radiating from her.
"Don't get in your head," I whisper raggedly, reassuring her even though my own uncertainty plagues me. I don't want her to feel insecure about the way she looks, though. Not now, not ever. "I fucking love you no matter what you look or feel like. Got it?"
She kisses me hard.
With my hand in her underwear, I'm gentle. Slow. Just feeling. Remembering. She parts her legs a little, and when I feel how wet she already is, I growl again, my fingers sliding inside of her.
"God… I love it," she pants, our mouths open and touching but not kissing as I fuck her with my fingers. "Missed this."
"You feel good. I bet you taste good, too." I say it without thinking. I sound strangled. A man torn. A greedy, greedy man who wants more of his sexy fucking wife. "I wanna use my mouth, but… is that too much, too soon?" I ask, kissing her neck, teeth grazing her skin.
"It's not too soon. Not for me."
"Are you sure?" I ask, double-checking.
"I'm sure if you're sure."
I'm quiet and contemplative then say, "I'm sure."
I pull her leggings off and settle further down the mattress, my head between her legs like I've done so many times before.
I kiss her over her underwear. Teasing.
She moans, maybe anticipating my mouth and tongue.
"You gotta be quiet though," I warn, pulling her underwear down to her thighs.
"That's a tough ask," she whispers, and I'm grateful my parents' room is upstairs. "Unless you're suddenly bad at it."
I smile smugly. "Doubt it."
I kiss her clit, then lick her from bottom to top.
Again.
Again.
She sighs in satisfaction.
I add my fingers again, sucking and licking.
"So, so good," she encourages, tangling her fingers in my hair.
In the past, I always talked dirty while going down on her. The combination was the key to getting her off in record time.
Tonight, we're quiet.
There are no goading, lust-filled questions. No coaxing out her wanton answers as I suck and lick and hum.
It's just us.
Relearning.
Trusting.
Easing into this intimacy that feels both foreign and familiar.
When my fingers curl, she gasps.
She's close.
I don't stop.
I watch her as best I can, seeing her eyes fall shut as she clenches around my fingers.
She exhales my name, just a breath. So far gone.
Her body trembles and shakes as she bucks against my face. Her voice starts to get louder, but she covers her face with a pillow to muffle her moans.
When it's over, I wait.
She smells like sex and her and I'm so fucking hard it hurts.
Instead of yanking down my boxers and sliding into her, I kiss the inside of her thigh before sitting up.
"I could die. Right now," she says, voice lethargic as she lifts her head to look at me.
I breathe a laugh, wiping my mouth. "Don't. I want to be able to do that again when you don't have to be quiet."
I slide her underwear back in place and then kiss her.
We both lie on our sides and I pull the blanket over us again before searching her face.
"So… good?" I fish, sounding a little vulnerable.
"Good?" she echoes in disbelief, touching my bare chest and playing with the hair there. "Did you not hear me? See me? Feel me?" she asks, and I smile. "Better than good. The best. Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me."
She presses her body closer to me and can probably feel how hard I am.
"I can make you feel good, too…" she starts to suggest. "I want to."
After a beat of hesitation, I say, "I want that. I really, really fucking do. But… not tonight."
The tiniest twinge of rejection passes over her face and I fucking hate myself.
So I tell her that.
"I hate that I'm being like this, but I'd hate myself more if we started something and I had to stop because my brain couldn't handle it. That wouldn't be fair to you or me." My lips brush her forehead. "Tonight was about you. Taking care of you. Helping you relax and taking your mind off of everything," I say through a yawn. "Now it's time to sleep."
"I don't want to push this. I want it to feel right, and I want us to be ready," she whispers.
"Me too."
Her fingers caress my jaw. "Edward?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you. Merry Christmas."
"I love you," I whisper, then kiss her long and deep, giving her more of the physical affection I now know she craves and needs.