A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts!
Here we go!
Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.
Chapter 14 – Deck the Halls
One Week 'Til Christmas:
About a minute into my morning, the day after Edward's and my agreement to maintain distance from one another, things already felt…off. Unnatural. I lay across my mattress, gazing through my window at the cascading snow, and my first reflex was to jump out of bed and find Edward. It was the third day of snow in a row, and sharing that bit of inconsequential news seemed like enough of an excuse. Except, that would've gone against our agreement. What's more, I instinctually knew in my bones, the way some people know when it's going to rain, that Edward wasn't in the house this morning. He was somewhere within the boundary lines of the property, yes, but not in the house.
I'd always been aware of Edward's presence since the day I moved into the Victorian, whether I saw him or not – even in those early days when he floated incorporeally like a wispy gust of wind, a creaking staircase or a shattering window, all meant to frighten the bejeesus out of me. Once we called a truce, his presence became a given, but not in the sense of an object like a couch, a frame, or a chair. It was more like…moving into a new neighborhood and discovering that someone who could potentially become your best friend lived right next door.
Only, in terms of that scenario, that potential best friend decided that despite our close habitation, we couldn't be best friends after all. As a matter of fact, he decided that our friendship had the potential to cause such mayhem that we had to take a few steps back. So, instead of a growing friendship, we'd backtrack to acquaintances who just happened to live nearby.
That was why, rather than run out of the bedroom to find Edward and share my frivolous findings, I blew out a heavy, bubbly breath through my lips. Slowly, I sat up and raked my fingers through the wild tangles in my hair, courtesy of a night of twisting and turning.
A half-hour later, I sat at my kitchen table eating breakfast while my personal assistant played my favorite Christmas playlist, currently streaming Mariah's holiday classic – a good way as any to begin a morning one week before Christmas. I thought of the morning when Edward first revealed himself to me. It was just a few weeks ago, yet somehow, it felt like ages. I'd awoken to the sound of his piano playing as he practiced the song he'd heard me stream on replay over my personal assistant. His grumbling aloud at the quick and confusing transitions accompanied some admittedly great piano-keying. I sighed and took a bite of my grilled cheese sandwich.
The sandwich was toasted perfectly, with melty, gooey goodness oozing at the golden caramel edges. Still, I couldn't say I was particularly enjoying it. Over the past few weeks, I'd grown accustomed to company at the kitchen table. The party of one now felt lonelier than I'd ever envisioned it feeling. Setting the rest of the rather bland grilled cheese down on the plate, I instead reached for my steaming mug of coffee, only to hiss when I scalded the tip of my tongue and my top lip.
"Ow! For fucking hell in a bleeding asshole's sake!" I spat, snatching the cup away from my mouth so quickly that coffee droplets spilled over the rim and onto the table. Ignoring the mess, I licked my top lip and blotted at it lightly with the pad of my pointer finger.
All the while, I smiled, waiting for the ensuing rebuke, the tsk-tsking on my unladylike outburst of language, the comparisons to a sailor on leave or to a pirate mid-cutlass fight. Anticipation for some great-ass back-and-forth banter warmed my chest. He'd tease, and I'd tease back, both of us deliberately pushing buttons, he with exaggerated ideals of proper feminine comportment and me with ever-increasingly shocking displays of the opposite.
But…my personal assistant played on in the background, its lone accompaniment the staccato beat of wind rapping against the window. I scanned my surroundings and found…everything as it was supposed to be. With another sigh, I picked up my grilled cheese again and bit off a chunk like a lion biting off a head, singing along with Mariah in a tone that sounded more threatening than needy:
"All I want for Christmaaas…is youuuu."
OOOOO
A quarter of an hour later, I stepped out of the house dressed in denim jeans tucked into black knee-high boots, a warm white sweater, a red scarf, and a black puffer jacket. The front porch, the steps leading down to the driveway, and a generous path leading to my truck had been very recently and thoroughly shoveled and salted, perhaps by someone who remembered that I tended to slip a lot. As I turned and gripped the front door's handle, my gaze panned around the foyer landing, taking in a handsomely rebuilt staircase and an attractively remodeled yet vacant room. Since no one was around to claim credit for a job well and thoughtfully done, I didn't comment on it as I pulled the door shut behind me.
"See ya later, House." Of course, I received no reply. But a cottony breeze abruptly sent a gentle whorl of gauzy snowflakes my way. They grazed my cheek and my nose…and then caressed the exact spot on my mouth where I'd burned myself.
OOOOO
About a half hour later, I put the truck in park and sat back against the driver's seat. It had been over two weeks since I last visited the town of Forks – the closest town to my new home. The fixer-upper kept me busy, as did the book I was writing, and as did getting to know-
I stopped that thought in its cold tracks with an audible huff of frustration at myself. Instead, I took in the wintry surroundings. In the ensuing time since my last trip to town, Forks had geared up for the holidays. Strings of lighted garland hung everywhere, draped across the main street and its buildings, and outlining every tree branch and limb in the two-block radius that comprised Forks' business district. Illuminated snowflakes shone incandescently from lampposts, and wreaths hung on storefront windows. A tree about ten or so feet tall, decorated in an array of glowing lights and balls and topped with a giant star, added glitter and glitz to what would've otherwise been a bland view of city hall. A background of snowcapped mountains framed the entire foreground, creating a picture-postcard image that seemed almost unreal.
"Good job, Forksters of Forksville! You've put my money to good use," I quipped with a grin. "Good friggin' job."
But the grin soon faded. Much like the question of the tree that falls with no one around to hear it, a quip isn't quite as funny when quipped alone. I wondered if Edward ever saw the town he'd meant to live adjacent to, with his future wife and child, dressed up for the holidays. In the next moment, I rolled my eyes and sucked my teeth, harshly chastising myself. "Ugh, Bella, get a damn grip! You are not that girl!"
Determined to prove to myself, if no one else, that I wasn't some damsel walking around heartbroken because Casper decided to unfriend me, I stepped down from the truck distractedly and with less caution than I should've. Although shoveling had also been conducted here, the job hadn't been as careful or recent. A thin, sheening layer of ice glittered deceivingly from the truck to Rosalie's Hale's Furniture Restoration shop. I slithered and slipped down the street like a snake in oil, barely maintaining my balance as I thought of yet another adage:
"All that fucking glitters isn't gold, indeed," I muttered to myself.
Luckily, my boots' soles did what a person like me pays top dollar for them to do, and I reached the storefront drenched in beads of panicked sweat despite the weather, but with all my limbs intact. The bell chimed over the door as I walked into welcome warmth, expelling a relieved breath that swirled before me.
"So damn worried about my flesh and blood corporealness," I grumbled while shaking ivory snow off my head and shoulders and stomping gritty-gray ice off my boots. I snorted. "Tell you what, flesh and blood corporealness fails to be a boon when you're prone to slips. I should've fallen and broken a bone. Or two. That would've taught him to make decisions for me. Maybe I want to float. Did you ever stop to consider-"
When I looked up, I almost choked as the rest of my words got stuck in my throat.
Edward strutted toward me, sporting a friendly yet cool grin, though he appeared nowhere near as miserable as last evening.
"What the hell did you do to your hair?"
Considering all the facts and implications of the moment, it was a massively ridiculous question. Yet, in my shock, it was the first thing I blurted because it was definitely…shorter. And curlier? Blonder than the shiny copper waves I'd grown all too familiar with – and fond of.
In reply, Edward merely frowned, that pleasant smile still in place as he sauntered forward. He wore faded blue jeans that hung low on his narrow hips and a black tee shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and his rock-hard pecs. And hold up. Yes, from the onset, I'd been keenly aware of Edward's impressive frame, but unlike this deceivingly innocuous outfit, the distinguished, immaculate, and custom-made three-piece suit he'd always previously worn more implied his masculine build rather than smacked one in the face with his muscles. On his feet, he wore a pair of Adidas. Although the rug beneath him absorbed the shock of his sneakers' footfalls, as rugs are wont to do, when he crossed the room, the furnishings around him vibrated; not too much, but something about it disconcerted me even further than I was already fucking disconcerted. He stopped, and I gaped.
"My brain's about to explode from an abundance of questions."
"Well, we certainly wouldn't want that, Miss Swan."
Even before the frowning chuckle, before he spoke in a voice an octave or so higher than the deep baritone that tended to make my insides quiver – and not in fear – I saw what I missed due to an initial combination of bewilderment and vision compromised by eyelashes coated in snowflakes. The forehead crinkled in question was slightly larger than Edward's, with a thinner hairline pushed back about a fraction of an inch from where Edward's thick hairline began. This close, I noted that his nose was pointier, and he lacked Edward's outrageously angular jawline; this one was more rounded. I could also tell by how I didn't have to angle my head as sharply to look him in his blue rather than green eyes that he was shorter than Edward by a couple of inches, closer to six feet rather than Edward's couple of inches over.
"You are Miss Swan, aren't you?"
"I…uh…sorry, I…"
"Ah, Bella, you made it!"
I blinked out of my stupor, only enough to follow the voice. Rosalie Hale entered the room dressed in white, wearing a knit sweater and skirt combo and patent leather ankle boots. As she strode over, her gaze flashed from me to the guy and then back to me.
"I see you've met my new assistant." She stopped, and the three of us stood in a triangle. I swept my eyes back to the man before me.
"Your…your new…your new…"
"My new assistant," she repeated, emphasizing the last word in case I had trouble with it. "Are you okay, Bella? Did you happen to have a fall over the ice?" After visibly inspecting me, she set her hands on her hips and turned to the guy. "Tony, did you shovel the storefront like I asked you to? The last thing I need is my clients coming in to do business, slipping over the ice, and suing me."
"I did indeed shovel, Rosalie," he replied pleasantly, "but I can do so again if-"
I must've looked wild with the fierce way my head shook, and my gaze remained glued to the man's befuddlingly familiar face. I mean, he looked a hell of a lot like Edward; that was undeniable. He appeared to be around the same age – mid to late twenties. But, at the same time, the differences were glaring. Or perhaps they were only glaring to me. "No, I didn't fall."
"Thank God," Rosalie said in a relieved tone. "In that case, shall we finalize the contract?" In my periphery, I saw her take a small step back and gesture with a hand toward the rear of the store, which I assumed was her office. Still, I couldn't tear my eyes away from her assistant.
"Yeah," I breathed. "Yeah, let's…" Forcing myself to cut away from his face, I took a couple of steps, following Rosalie. The guy's eyes were already on me when I spun back around.
"I'm sorry, who exactly are you?"
When he stepped forward and stretched out a hand, I met it with slow hesitance. Perhaps because he resembled Edward so much, I half-feared that I'd have the same reaction to physical touch between us – that heady, exhilarating, yet chaotic dizziness, the spark of fire to my skin, the dynamic big bang that made my legs go weak and my head spin. I stiffened and held my breath.
His hand was warm from being indoors. His grip was neither too loose nor too firm. It was a handshake and nothing more.
"Miss Swan, I'm Rosalie's new assistant, Tony Edwins, but please call me Tony. May I call you Bella?"
I nodded stupidly.
"Bella, it's good to meet you."
After a long pause, I replied, "Tony…it's good to meet you, too."
A/N: Thoughts?
Dum, da-dum dum DUM!
Hmm. Who exactly is this?
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