A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.

Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.

Chapter 19 – Spirited

Later that night, I lay in bed in the quiet always exacerbated by falling snow. I tried not to think too deeply, which turned into a lot of thinking and a generous amount of tossing and turning. My head felt full. My lungs felt tight and constricted. I felt like an individual who's been to an airport or a crowded venue where a host of germs lurk and brought some home but couldn't shake them. Then again, over the past few weeks, I'd been exposed to a preposterous number of mind-blowing events. Some of them were bound to stick to me.

Nevertheless, I smiled at the vanity resting in my bedroom's corner. This…this definitely stuck with me. In fact, if I had Charlotte Gray before me, I'd tell her where she could stick all the jewelry, furs, and fancy gifts Edward once gave her. Because given the choice between every expensive gift she ever received or the first piece of furniture Edward ever crafted, I'd pick the vanity, every. single. time.

"Bella, stop overthinking," I hissed at myself. Then, sighing, I flipped to my other side, punched the pillow a few times for good measure, and squeezed my eyes shut. I rubbed at the tightness in my chest, but it lingered, and what could've easily been two minutes or two hours later, sleep still weaved through the busy corners in my mind, evading me. Moreover, now that I faced the bedroom door, I kept picturing everything on the opposite side. I pictured Edward nearby. I felt him.

But I couldn't have him. I bounced onto the mattress with a heavier sigh and glared at the ceiling.

What kind of idiot falls in love with a ghost, and one who died in love with his pregnant girlfriend, to boot? I inwardly berated myself.

"Me, that's who," I whispered aloud, halfheartedly raising a hand. "Guilty as charged."

Some part of me knew that I was allowing the thoughts plaguing my mind to keep me awake. I welcomed them if only as distractions. Because if I really focused on what being in love with Edward Masen, Prohibition-era bootlegger, meant for a human woman in the present, I'd probably burst into embarrassing wails that would quake the snowy mountains.

I tried to take comfort in the fact that Edward had gifted me – not merely agreed to share with me – something so special to him. It eased the tightness in my chest enough to allow me to breathe, even if shallowly. However, why he gave me something so meaningful made no sense in light of our remaining 'Acquaintances' living under the same roof. But, like I said, I tried not to think about it all too deeply. What was the point of wondering, of wandering thoughts traipsing around a fantasy that could go nowhere?

Except as I lay in bed, watching the quiet glow of snow outside my window, and I told my brain not to wonder or wander beyond that peaceful image, my heart desperately wanted to wonder and wander.

Then, there was the matter of Tony and his possible rights here – not merely his rights, but what was fair to him as Edward's ancestor. Tomorrow, I'd begin a deep delve into the issue. Then, depending on what I discovered, Edward and I would have to have a complicated talk.

Eventually, I succumbed to the vague dreams and wishful fantasies of dozing. I saw Edward and me sitting side by side, not with multiple feet between us to prevent some mysterious electric charge. I felt the warmth of his body pressed against mine and saw the muted glow of Christmas tree lights framing his emerald eyes. I felt the sweet frame of a much lighter weight cocooned between us-

A sharp vibration snatched me out. My eyes popped open with a hitched breath, and the next second, I realized that my cell phone, vibrating over my nightstand, woke me. With my mind in a fog, I had no plans to reach for it, and I allowed my eyelids to grow heavy again. When the cell vibrated again, I sighed and reached for the phone. Two things startled me into wide-eyed alertness:

The first was that it was three-twenty-eight in the morning. The second was Tony texting me.

'Hey Bella, I know it's late, but I just wanted you to know I had a great time with you at the café yesterday.'

My heart stuttered, then raced. Not due to excitement. When you conclude that you're in love with one specific…er- entity, that pretty much negates having those same feelings for another entity. I felt an obligation towards Tony, especially after everything he'd told me the previous afternoon about his hardships. I wanted to make things right if it was within my purview and abilities.

So, no, it wasn't excitement I felt as I read his text. Instead, an uneasy tension crept up my spine. Because a guy didn't generally text a girl in the early morning hours if he'd been daydreaming of picnicking with her. When three bubbles appeared, indicating he was prepping another text, I groaned under my breath.

'Your pretty face has been on my mind all day and night.'

"Come on, man," I breathed, hoping he'd stop there.

He wasn't.

'You don't have to answer these texts. I want you to know that I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. You're gorgeous, and I can't wait to get to know you better. At your pace, of course.'

"Three unsolicited texts at two in the morning are definitely not my pace, dude," I muttered, then corrected myself when three bubbles popped up again. "Um, four."

'Hope I'm featuring in your thoughts tonight because you're definitely featuring in mine.'

'Tony, listen.' I sent this much because I needed to stop this basic booty call before he continued.

Yet my thumbs hovered over the keypad, debating my wording. I couldn't precisely curse him out because, ick or not, chances were high that Tony was Edward's ancestor. As much as I ached to type out, 'Ick, man! Fuck off!' I couldn't, not when I'd likely have to work with him in the future to decide-

A loud crash made me jump so high I almost fell off the edge of the bed. On its heels followed a harsh clatter and then the shrill shattering of glass.

"What the hell?"

Tony and his inappropriate three a.m. texts were wholly forgotten; I dropped my cell on the mattress, jumped out of bed, and rushed to my bedroom door, yanking it open as I raced into the dark hallway.

"Edward?"

There was no answer.

I sprinted down the stairs, gripping the railing tightly so I wouldn't stumble, and then I slithered and slid through the inky hallways on the first level like a slippery eel. Heart pounding, I peered closely at every shadowed corner, calling Edward's name without a reply or sign of him. I inwardly admonished myself for not grabbing something I could've used as a weapon. Even my cell phone would've been better than nothing. In the kitchen, the faint moonlight and wintry blue glow of snow streamed through the windows. It highlighted a silhouette standing eerily still by the sink. My breath hitched, and with my heart in my throat, I flipped on the lights.

"Ed-Edward?"

"Yes, Bella."

His broad shoulders rose and fell in a heaving rhythm. His back was to me, and he gripped the sink so tightly his knuckles were a ghostly white. Then again, he was a ghost. As my gaze swept the room, I spotted an overturned kitchen chair. My water tumbler, which I'd left next to my laptop on the table earlier, lay on its side on the floor, spilled water puddling over the tiles.

Slowly, I edged forward. "Edward, what happened?"

"Bella, stay where you are." His voice was gruff, more than I was used to, and he spun around, rapidly raising a hand to halt me. Startled by the grit in his tone, my eyes jumped to his face, only to be further stunned by his flaring nostrils and a jaw squared so tightly that it looked like it might crack. His dark, fiery gaze reminded me of a barely contained blaze.

"What's going on?" I asked impatiently.

"Don't come closer," he hissed through his teeth. "There's…there's broken shards on the floor."

Again, my eyes jumped around, disconcerted by the entire scene. In fact, broken pieces from one of my mugs and dishes were all over the floor—the ones on which he'd served my grilled cheese and coffee earlier and then left on a towel next to the sink. I also noted my laptop, which lay open on the kitchen table, its screen illuminated as if it had just been used.

"Okay, but will you please tell me what happened?"

"I was…" he fisted his hair. "I was online, on your laptop, researching while you slept. I was trying to find something…some way that you and I—" Snorting bitterly, he cut himself off and shook his head. Then, with a cynicism that confounded me even more, he spat, "I hope you don't mind that I was on your laptop."

"Of course, I don't." I frowned deeply. "I've already told you that, Edward."

He scoffed, his burning gaze almost accusatory. When he spoke, I got the feeling what he said wasn't what he'd wanted to say.

"I suppose I had an accident."

"An accident?" I echoed. My gaze narrowed in continued bemusement as I again took in the mess.

An accident? Since when did Edward have accidents? Whenever he'd broken things in the past, it had been wholly on purpose. Moreover, how does one turn over a chair at the table, knock down a water tumbler on top of the table, and break a mug and dish safely resting on a dish towel by the sink, all by accident and while working on a laptop?

I sighed. "I mean, no harm, no foul. Let's just clean it all up."

I shrugged, again stepping forward. But once again, Edward halted me, this time as much with his words as with his tone, expression, and gestures. In other words, with every part of him. He pointed sharply at me, the gesture also accusatory, how one would rebuke an individual who'd intentionally caused the downfall of civilization.

"No. You stay there. The last thing we need is for you to cut yourself and…and…"

He trailed off. His narrowed gaze suddenly raked me over from head to foot as if he were just now seeing me through his evident haze of fury. His gaze darkened and narrowed further for a moment, mouth twitching and puckering into what looked like a silent 'Ooh.'

Then, clenching his jaw, he gnashed teeth against teeth and glowered at me, resuming his previous tirade with fervor. "The last thing we need is for you to cut yourself and bleed all over the damn floors, especially with all the skin you've got exposed," he intoned scathingly.

I looked down at myself. In my haste, I'd left my room in a stomach-exposing, spaghetti-strap shirt and a pair of butt-cheek-hugging boy shorts. As I looked back up, my face cheeks flamed. But if, at that moment, my livid gaze could've shot flames, the ghost of Edward Masen would've been charred to a crisp.

"How dare you try to embarrass me for walking around my house in my pajamas!"

He quirked an eyebrow and said mockingly, "Pajamas? Is that what you call that?" He gestured vaguely, though lividly, toward me and my choice of clothing.

"I apologize if they're not the ankle-length and buttoned-all-the-way-up-to-the-chin grandma frocks that probably turned you on about a thousand years ago!"

He bristled. "A thousand years ago? Really? Thank you very much for that. And trust me," he added, voice shaking, "on you, even a grandma frock would've-"

I cut him off, refusing to be sidetracked by his indignation or anything he wanted to say. "But this is how we sleep nowadays! I was in bed when you decided to have your series of unfortunate accidents because some of us fucking sleep," I retorted just as hotly because this fucker was sounding just as bad as the Edward of my first days here. Even worse!

His lip curled, and he folded his arms against his chest. "Not that it's here nor there, but though you may have been in bed, you were not sleeping."

"What?" I snapped.

"After your long day of exhausting surprises," he snarled with no little sarcasm, "you weren't sleeping."

"Yes, I was!" And before I could ask him what the fuck had crawled up his ass between the time we'd spent in the attic and now, the upturned chair, the overturned water tumbler, and about a thousand pieces of broken glass all floated into midair with an abruptness that made me audibly gasp and jump back. For a handful of seconds, everything hovered, the glass gleaming and glittering like indoor snowflakes refusing to melt despite the turbulent heat I felt emanating off Edward. And despite his evident and inexplicable ire…it was a beautiful sight. All those minuscule shards sparkled like diamonds and circled overhead for a few seconds. I found myself smiling.

With the same startling celerity, the pieces zoomed away and dropped into the garbage bin, the impact high-pitched and shrill. The chair was set upright at the table with the jagged screech of a scratched record. The tumbler flew and fell into the sink behind him, clanking metal against metal.

After a few stunned moments, I met Edward's gaze. Much like earlier, when we'd been in the attic together, I found his eyes were already on me. Yet the way he now looked at me was altogether different: he glowered at me, eyes in defiant slits as if daring me, challenging me to push him further.

A challenge which I, of course, accepted.

"You missed the water puddle. If you're gonna have accidents, clean them up properly."

A low growl rumbled deep in his throat, and I sneered at him, even as the echo of his growl seeped into my stomach and sent butterflies racing deep…deep down there. Still, I wanted to show him I wasn't the lily-livered damsels he was used to. He wouldn't intimidate me with his temper tantrums!

He might turn me on, but he wouldn't intimidate me!

Of course, his mouth curled in an undeniably wicked grin that made the butterflies already dancing in my stomach perform cartwheels, somersaults, friggin' Olympic-level tumbles on the mat that was my stomach floor.

"Your wish is my command, Miss Swan," he said, with an undeniably acerbic emphasis on the Miss. Then, Edward levitated the entire puddle of water and tossed it into the sink with a loud splash, his roguishly fierce gaze on me the whole time.

I set my hands on my hips, feeling the heat of my palms and fingers on my equally hot and, yes, exposed skin because he was correct; there wasn't much in the way of cloth covering me. But by then, I was equal parts seething and… indisputably excited because despite our mutual fury, I didn't fail to notice how Edward's eyes followed my hands to my hips, nor how he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth longingly before swiftly releasing it and setting top and bottom lip into a straight, implacable line.

"Are you seriously trying to scare me again with these antics? Are we back to that?"

He opened his mouth; outrage spelled out in his now icy glower and the scathing retort I could almost see dangling on the tip of that warm-looking, pink, wet tongue.

But then…he shut his mouth.

In a whooshing rush, Edward's indignant fury seemed to abandon him. His stiff shoulders slumped, and he leaned heavily against the sink as if suddenly needing its support. The eyes that now looked back at me overflowed with more than remorse and shame, but rather with the sort of surrender one wore after losing a significant battle. Perhaps even the war. Edward gripped his hair in both hands, then hung his head in exhaustion.

"Bella…" he whispered hoarsely, "I'm…I'm sorry."

With the adrenaline of being shocked into action by a clamor of crashing and clanging while I was already in the midst of restless thoughts, of rushing down to find an inexplicable wreckage in my kitchen and Edward in a disconcertingly unaccountable yet breathtaking rage, my first instinct was to keep fighting.

But I wasn't the type to kick a dog when it was already down, or rather, to antagonize a repentant ghost, especially when said ghost's shame was so openly displayed as to be painful to watch. He stood there, his usually self-assured posture now sagging against the sink, his hanging head shaking from side to side, and his eyes squeezed shut as if he couldn't bear to look at me.

He looked…defeated. And I was in love with him. And apparently, what they say about fools in love is true. They'll forgive a lot. Even a spectral tantrum.

"Hey," I said softly, remaining where I was. Not because I feared him – he could throw all the fucking tantrums he wanted; I would never fear Edward – but because I didn't want him to disappear on me, to go skulk and brood somewhere intangible I couldn't follow.

"Edward. Look at me."

It took a minute, but finally, he took a deep breath, released it slowly, and looked up. His mortified, contrite eyes met mine, and he offered me a rueful smile.

"What happened?" I asked gently. "What was all this about?"

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing while the moonlight behind him illuminated his frame in a supernatural glow.

"I…" he began, his voice thick and oddly unsure, "I was on your laptop and…"

"And?" I prompted, angling my head as I waited.

"And…" he sighed, shaking his head and rushing out the rest, "when I couldn't find anything beyond what I found the other day, I suppose it frustrated me."

"It frustrated you?"

He nodded once.

"That's it?" I frowned dubiously.

"That's it." He shrugged. "I am sorry, though. I promise I wasn't trying to frighten you. I was just…"

"Frustrated?" I suggested when he trailed off again.

"Frustrated," he concurred.

After a handful of seconds of silently studying him, I sighed and offered him a faint smile.

"Edward, I know it might seem as if we have all the answers nowadays, but sometimes the answers aren't there in cyberspace. And sometimes, what we see on a laptop screen isn't the full picture, so we have to dig through other methods."

He nodded. "I'll keep all that in mind, even though some of us can't go digging through other methods."

Now, it was my turn to feel a heady wave of remorse. I took a slow step forward, waiting for Edward's halting measures – for a palm up or a sharp look of warning. When none came, I took another step. Then another. His eyes remained on me…contemplative, searing, yet he said nothing. I only stopped when I was so close that I had to angle my head to see every color encompassing his eyes – emerald and pine, a blustery sea, a starry night. I stopped when I felt the first stirrings of that incomparable pull, and I knew that one more step, just one more inch, would be where I completely lost myself to his overpowering charge.

And I didn't stop because I wanted to, but because I knew that's what he wanted.

"You're right," I said quietly. "I'm sorry, that was thoughtless."

"Bella Swan, you are never thoughtless," he stressed. "You are the most thoughtful woman…the most thoughtful individual I've ever met in this existence and my previous one."

My exposed skin warmed all over.

"And I know," he continued, "that you'd answer any questions for me, anything I asked, even though…"

"Even though?"

"Even though…" – he huffed and shook his head – "I have no rights in this world, Bella. No right to ask. None at all."

"Edward, what do you-"

"Go to sleep, Miss Swan," he said, his voice soft and tender again. The formal address was wrapped in warmth and teasing once more—even through the deep sadness that still seemed to weigh him down like a layer of wet snow. At my apparent hesitation, he added, "I promise I won't have any more unfortunate accidents tonight."

I chuckled, even as his sadness seeped into me. But whatever was still plaguing was something he didn't want to discuss right then. So, I set one leg over the other and smiled at him as I made a show of pirouetting into an about-face – one I had no desire to perform.

He grinned. "You're also very graceful."

"Now, I know you're teasing me," I snorted. "Edward, are you sure you're okay?"

He held me locked in his unfathomable gaze, then gave me a wistful smile. "Everything is exactly as it should be. Good night, Bella. Sleep well."

I nodded. "Good night, Edward. No more accidents while I'm sleeping," I teased.

"I'll try my best."

He offered me a half-hearted smile, and then I forced myself to pirouette, swaying ungracefully as I did so. When I peeked over my shoulder, I found Edward watching me with an expression so akin to the longing I felt…as if, despite the good night wishes, he wanted me to stay as much as I wanted to stay. I only managed to keep my legs moving forward by reminding myself that it was his idea that we remain 'Acquaintances.'

He asked for this.

And if some part of him wanted me, too, it wasn't enough to stop me from leaving.

A/N: Thoughts?

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