Chapter 14

We're pushing Joey along on the Marginal Way, a beautiful mile long walkway along the cliffs of the ocean dotted with benches and scenic overlooks. There are plenty of people walking as the day is perfect once again. "Still happy we aren't spelunking," I say, peacefully ambling alongside the stroller.

"Not an adventure-seeker I guess? Besides the airplane jump?"

I shrug. "I haven't really had much thought or opportunity to be adventurous, I suppose. If you don't count public transit." I dramatically shudder at the thought, making Edward laugh.

This walk isn't on his list, and I told him I felt guilty taking hours away from Joey time, but he reassured me, telling me he wanted me to experience it, and besides, it isn't something he'll most likely get to do again with Joey, so win-win all around.

I take some pictures, posing them against the backdrop of cliffs and sea until he tells me I've taken enough and starts to walk again. "Okay, so you moved with your mom to Staten Island. Did you like it there?" he asks.

I think for a bit before answering. There are a couple of seagulls in front of us that squawk and scatter when we approach, the sound less nails on a chalkboard than it used to be. "It was a neighborhood, one with a park and stuff, so that was better. We lived in the basement apartment, so I was still sharing living space with other people I didn't really know. Maybe that's why I've never had a roommate," I consider.

"So, you had never met this aunt?"

"Nope. We pulled into her driveway and I think that might've been the first time she ever knew I existed." Edward looks sharply at me. "I'm exaggerating, but they weren't close. Doubt she ever saw a picture of me."

Edward says nothing, and I can only imagine what he thinks of my dismal past. "It wasn't all bad. My mom left when I was maybe nine, so that worked out. Had my own apartment."

Edward stops walking. "I'm sorry, what? Your mother left you with a relative when you were nine? How long was she gone for?"

I hate the horror in his voice. I can't even tell him that I never saw her again. "Listen, don't feel bad for me. My mom and I… we never really had any sort of bond. It was almost a relief when she left because then I wouldn't have to hear her complain about having to raise me as a struggling, single mother."

I'm suddenly in Edward's arms, my face pressed against his chest. He smells like detergent and salt air. I stand there immobile, until I feel his lips on my scalp, talking against me. "Bella, I won't say 'I'm sorry' for what you went through because I know I hate it, but honestly. That's fucked up."

It makes me laugh against him. "It is. It gets worse," I laugh harder, weird emotions coming out in weird ways. "I never saw her again. Have no idea where she is."

He's looking down at me and all I can do is keep laughing. We must look so silly standing in the middle of the path, me laughing hysterically while he looks mortified.

I sober up because my sense of humor isn't for everyone, I guess, and I need to reassure him. "The good part is that I did like my aunt, and she liked me. I moved up into her spare room. We grooved, she let me do my thing but was there when I needed some motherly advice or whatever. I wasn't completely alone," I say, hopeful that at least he doesn't feel entirely like I'm a basket case.

"Well fuck, I'm glad for that. I'm afraid to ask if she's still in your life. I'm waiting for you to tell me that she turned out to be a serial killer or something." I can hear the mirth in his voice and it calms me, his attempt to not completely pity me.

"Nope. Just a secretary on Staten Island. At least as far as I know. Never found a body in the house."

I feel relieved when he laughs at my joke before he pulls away to start walking again, even though I want to be back in his arms where I felt safe and dare I say it, loved. "Do you still see her, at least?"

I hesitate. I really don't want to unload on him anymore, but I can't lie to him, either. "Uh, no. She died when I was twenty." I turn brusquely towards Edward. "Do not feel sorry for me. Really, I'll punch you hard if you even think it."

He holds his hands up. "I won't! I promise. I just… Jesus, Bella. Did you have anyone in your life you could count on?"

I've never felt bad for myself before. Never. Never had pity, never said woe is me.

Maybe because I didn't know any other way. I live my life, do what I do, I don't have time to realize I'm not happy and alone.

But I'm not. And I am.

"Can we stop talking about this now? I'm kind of done, I think." I'm not mad at him, not at all. I'm just suddenly so tired.

"Of course, we can." We walk in silence and it's just eating me up, what he might think of me, how I grew up, the person I came to be. Lord knows he didn't have a great first impression of me, but what must he think now? Ugh. He points out a few impressive yachts at the marina we're nearing, stops to let some kids pet Joey, and tells me terrible jokes. He does everything he can to make me smile. He's so understanding that my heart literally hurts from malnourishment.

Thank God he's here, that he stuck around and survived. The world needs more people like Edward Cullen to even out the Bella Swans.

I spot an outdoor restaurant with its happy red umbrellas covering tables looking out over the water and point it out. "Wanna get drunk on The New York Time's dime?"

"Yes, I do." Edward emphatically nods. "But I uh, have to tell you something…"

"Edward! Good to see you!" A nice-looking older man comes out of the kitchen wearing a chef's coat. They hug, and he immediately bends down to pet Joey, then stands to greet me.

"Peter, this is Bella, The New York Times reporter," Edward introduces me, and I shake the man's hand. "Have any room for us on the patio?"

"You don't even have to ask." Peter takes two menus from the hostess's hand and starts to lead us out to the deck.

"No, you don't have to ask because you own this place, too," I hiss under my breath at his back while smiling at people through clenched teeth as they say hello to Edward and Joey as we walk past tables. He ignores me, and we settle into a lovely, umbrella-shaded table near the railing.

"Not my fault you didn't know." He just smiles and takes a sip of water when the waitress pours.

He's not wrong, but it doesn't sting any less. "Okay, I should've known. So, you own this restaurant. Any others?"

"Well…" he trails off and I just look at him dumbly. "Not a restaurant exactly. It's more like," he pauses again but then waves a hand quickly over the water. "This marina?"

I put my hand to my aching head. Seriously, Aro would either laugh his ass off at me right now or ream me a new one.

"That's it though, I swear." The laughter in his voice, one I found charming not fifteen minutes ago, is annoying. I want to kick him in the shin. My phone goes off instead, so I pull it out of my bag.

Michael. What the fuck?

I shove it back into my bag.

"Work?" He asks and looks over the wine list.

"Ah, no."

He waits for me to elaborate, then nods his head when realization hits and goes back to the menu. "Got it. Guess he's not taking no for an answer?" The kindness in his voice once again removes the desire I have to kick him under the table.

"I have no idea, nor do I care."

He leaves it be and holds the wine list out to me when the waitress comes. I order a bottle of Sancerre 2019, assuming we will be eating seafood, and to piss Aro off when he sees the expense report. I really have no idea why Michael would be calling again, we are both highly pragmatic people, not run by emotions in need of some weepy post-mortem. Honestly, he probably just wants me to return his copy of Frank Partnoy's Fiasco.

"So, tell me more about the Cullen empire," I say, to get back to the more pressing conversation.

He laughs. "That's it. The two restaurants and the marina."

"It must've been hard to run things, I'm assuming."

"Well, I was, am, incredibly lucky my father had such good people working for him. I didn't have to worry about much." He nods towards the restaurant. "Peter has been here since it opened, he's a partner, so I really didn't have to do anything here, and another friend of my father's runs the marina. They're both trustworthy partners."

The waitress arrives with the wine and holds the label to me, which I glance at and confirm. "And you had your uncle too, right? Is he in the family business?"

Edward makes a show of swirling and smelling the wine when it's poured into his glass. "No, he's not." He takes a sip. "He's actually in the newspaper business."

My eyes widen in surprise. "He is? Maybe I know him? Is he a reporter, too?"

"He was. That's how he was able to take time to be with me. He was freelance."

"For what outlets?" I'm stunned he hadn't mentioned this before, knowing I'd be interested.

Edward looks at me over the rim of his glass.

"What?" I ask, eyes narrowing.

"I promised I wouldn't say anything." His eyes are pleading, despairing. I cock my head to the side trying to figure it out, I'm so confused by his demeanor.

Until I'm not.

"Aro. Aro is your uncle."

I would hang out at dockside restaurants with CarrieZM and LayAtHomeMom all day every day.

This is for Squiggy.

So... good news and bad news. Good news, I'm going on a much needed vacation! Bad news is I won't be posting for two weeks. Forgive me, but PB needs some sun, some drinks, some books and some quality time with Mr. PB. Don't worry, Squiggy is on his own vacation at my brother's house getting all the attention from my family. He loves it there, but I already miss him terribly.