Twenty

B

Edward proceeds to pour his heart and soul out. He tells me how he fell into a deep depression when his ex-wife stole half of his dream. How he threw himself back into working at the bar he started out in with the hopes of starting over. He wasn't expecting the owner to decide to retire and shut down without warning. His parents offered to give him the rest of the money he needed to open a bar of his own, but his pride got the best of him.

"I started working at a couple seedy bars around town, but I wasn't happy. Mulligans was upscale and the money was good. There was no way I'd meet my goal, so I swallowed my pride and agreed to take a loan from my parents."

I smile, and Edward notices and asks me why.

"I'm not surprised you refused the hand out. Of course, you'd want to pay them back."

"I didn't want to owe anyone anything. I wanted to do it on my own, but it just wasn't possible. I made my dad draw up a contract, and I'm slowly paying them back." He runs a hand through his hair. "It'll take me a couple years, but I refuse to be a burden."

I grab his hand, squeezing his fingers. "That's very commendable, Edward."

When he meets my gaze, his eyes are haunted.

"There's more," I press.

"I'm not a good partner."

"What makes you say that?" l ask softly.

He opens his mouth but can't find the words.

"What did she do to you?"

Edward surprises me by pulling away. He stands and starts pacing, wearing a hole in the floor. "I'm an all-in guy, Bella. I like to take care of the people in my life. When we were together, I took pride in providing for Jess. I'd wash her car or do her laundry and meal prep for her so she could sleep in before work."

"And she didn't like that your love language was acts of service?"

"She constantly threw it in my face that I had a hero complex." He stops and scoffs. "The only thing she never complained about was the fact that I paid for everything."

I stand and approach him slowly, taking his face in my hands. "That sounds like her problem, not yours, sweetheart."

He covers my hands with his, leaning heavily into my touch. "You make me want things I can't have."

"How come?" He doesn't answer right away so I press. "Okay, why don't you tell me the things you want, and then I'll tell you the things I want?"

"You make me want to take care of you. Breakfast in bed, massages after a late night at the bar. I want to flirt all night and bring you home and worship you, in an actual bed instead of quickies on the bar or in my car. I want to make love to you and hold you in my arms instead of watching you walk into your apartment alone. I want to be the man you deserve."

I kiss him softly and pull away with a smile. "And what makes you think you can't have those things?"

"Because I rarely get what I want."

"Then ask me what I want."

"Tell me. I need to know," Edward pleads.

"My love language is physical touch. I want to come to you for comfort. I want you to hold me tightly just because. I want to sling drinks beside you and have our own inside jokes that no one else would understand. I want to wake you up with surprise blow jobs and to drive you mad with want until you can't take it anymore and attack me with a passion only you have."

"Bella," he whispers, voice full of gravel and need.

I continue. "I want dates when Rebar is closed. To meet your friends and for you to meet mine. I want days in bed until we forget our names. I want to make you forget all about Jess and how much she hurt you."

I kiss him again and he finally wraps his arms around me, making me sigh.

"As for what I'd like right now. I want you to take me upstairs and for us to shower the heaviness of tonight away. I want to make love to you in your bed and fall asleep in your arms. Hell, I might even wake you up with one of those BJs I mentioned."