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

Once again, we've got two chapters combined into one. :)

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

Chapter 21 - Love, Actually

"Behl-laaa! We're here!"

"Up, up, uh-uup!"

"Ugh, Mom, five more minutes, please," I countered, curling myself into a ball. "I've got Chemistry first period, and Mr. Molina partnered me with the strangest boy."

"What's she talkin' 'bout calling usMom?"

"D'we really sound like moms? That's depressin'."

"Serrssly. 'Specially considering I'm still in my hoe era."

A pair of hearty giggles rang out, though who my mom spoke with and why they chose to converse in my bedroom escaped me. Confounding mystery notwithstanding, my giggles soon joined theirs when something featherlike brushed my nose. Back and forth it went. I swiped at it.

"Mom quit it with the feathers! They tickle!"

"Feathers? That's my Mrs. Claus fur trim!"

"Al, you really are in your hoe era."

Another hearty giggle followed, but then Mom sucked her teeth and shook me. "Bella, come on," she whined, "open your eyes and get up! And stop calling me Mom."

"Al, open the door and get out. We're gonna have to get creative." A rush of cold air followed.

"Ahh, that feels nice," I sighed.

"'Kay, Rose, I'll pull her arms while you push her legs, and we'll drag her out!"

"Got it. Just don't drop her, or she'll land on gravel ass first."

"Wait, who the heck shoveled her driveway?"

"Al, focus! Now, pull!"

Mom began tugging me out of bed, pulling my hands so that my arms flayed upward while her friend pushed me by the knees. They made dramatic sounds of struggle, giggling all the while.

"Eee!"

"Ooo!"

"Aaah!"

"Mom, just let me miss first period!"

"Bella, if you call meMomone more time… What the-?"

Mom abruptly dropped my hands, and a pair of arms wrapped around my waist, firmly yet gently tugging me up—arms that felt much stronger and more muscular than Mom's arms had ever felt. Eyes still shut and unbalanced, I pitched forward, my chest landing on another chest, one that didn't feel like my mom's at all. It was much less yielding yet incredibly supportive in a warm, uniquely masculine way.

My eyes popped open.

I was, in fact, not in the bedroom of my youth.

A crescent moon shone overhead in the pale indigo typical of a winter's night. The fraction of an orb lent the world just enough illumination to highlight the silent snowfall occurring over my Victorian and the silvery peaks of snowcapped mountains in the background. Alice stood a short distance away while Rosalie emerged on unsteady feet from the opposite side of the Uber before the car sped off in a noisy screech, leaving the three of us swaying in the dust.

Well, it wasn't really dusty, and there were actually four of us in the darkness, even if I was the only one who knew that, the one who felt rather than saw the incorporeal grip still firmly around my waist.

Amid the Uber's clamorous departure, a disembodied voice spoke close to my ear, its tone tinged with an edge of menace overshadowed by alarm.

"Bella, are you hurt? I swear, women or not, if they harmed a hair on your head, I'll rip their-"

"Hedwhhaard," I exhaled, cutting off his invisible rant. I lurched ungracefully, lightheaded. But whether it was the copious liquor I'd consumed or the glorious levity always engendered by Edward's proximity was a mystery I didn't care to solve, not while his hands were on me.

Edward, however, sounded increasingly panicked.

"Bella, please, just assure me you're okay. I…I can't remain this close for long without…without…"

When he trailed off, I pleaded, "No, don't leave!"

"Don't worry, Bella. We're not gonna leave you home alone drunk," Alice replied, assuming my pleading was meant for Rosalie and her.

"Yeah, we're not leaving you – even if we're equally drunk," Rosalie added. "Also, what's a hedward?"

"Yeah. Did you mean headwind– like the strong wind that just knocked me off you? I almost landed on my ass."

"That would've been hilarious to witness!"

"Ha, ha, Rose!"

While Rosalie and Alice debated, something grazed my forehead, and my breath caught.

The object froze. Whether it was seized by indecision or a request for permission, I didn't know. All my awareness became consumed by the object's warmth, by the soothing breath washing over my face. And as my lungs released their long breath, that breath should've swirled upward in a puff of gray-white. Instead, it disappeared as if hitting a wall…or an individual whose forehead rested on mine.

In the next moment, Edward's nose feathered across my face. He inhaled me deeply, humming low in his throat as he skimmed, the sound rumbling in his chest before reverberating into my own. He made a trail from cheek to jaw to cheek in an appropriately ghostly and languidly gentle probe.

"Bella…" he exhaled in my ear.

I shut my eyes, every fine hair on my body standing at heady attention, worshippers to his touch, prickled into hyperawareness by his voice.

"What is going on with her?" Alice wondered.

"I have no clue, but if I didn't know better, I'd say that had all the markings of a woman 'bout to hit the big O-"

"Oh, my God, Rosalie!" My eyes popped open as I shouted, effectively ending the moment.

Yet, even as Edward's nose and forehead broke their connection with my skin, he sighed as he pulled away, leaving me awash in further warmth from shoulders to collarbone and every extremity. He spoke in my ear again, no longer sounding quite as alarmed. In fact, there was more than a touch of amusement in his typically dry delivery.

"Well, well, well, Miss Swan. You are drunk."

I chuckled guiltily, then huffed in irritation as I felt him pull back further. Carefully easing his grip, he released me.

"If I fall and break my neck, you'll only have yourself to blame."

I received an incorporeal snort to my warning, followed by Rosalie and Alice's verbal retorts, once again thinking I addressed them.

"Hey, we didn't tell you to down four double champagnes!"

"We tried to stop you at three!"

"And a couple of shots. Don't forget the shots."

They burst into laughter while Edward's warm breath neared my ear again.

"Don't worry, Miss Swan. Though I'll keep my distance, I will catch you if you fall."

I grinned broadly. "I'll hold you to that."

"You are acting so weird," Rose accused. "Even for a drunk person. Now, can we please get inside? Some of us aren't dressed like lumberjacks and are freezing our asses off."

"Come on, Naughty Elf One and Naughty Elf Two," I chuckled.

The three of us made our way somewhat unsteadily toward the house. All the while, I felt Edward close by, even if no longer close enough for the powerful current of his proximity to electrify my body and soul. Still, just the knowledge that he wouldn't allow me to fall made my skin tingle.

"Though dressed like a lumberjack or not," Alice said, continuing Rosalie's topic, "you slayed at that Christmas party tonight! Did you see all the eyes on you?"

"Eyes on me?" I laughed dubiously. "Not with you two flanking me."

"Well, there were," Rosalie said. "A whole bunch of 'em – even before Tony draped himself over you."

The low growl that erupted behind us made us stop on wobbly legs. Rosalie and Alice teetered precariously over their heels while I canted slightly but kept my balance. Rosalie and Alice then looked over their shoulders in the slow-motion manner of B-grade horror movie actresses about to get slashed. However, I pivoted, rather more curious than concerned, despite the frown across my forehead.

"What the hell was that?" Rose asked.

"I don't know," I murmured.

"Bella," Alice whispered, her voice trembly, "d-d-do you have rabid animals around here?"

"Nope." I cocked my head and stared questioningly at the darkness. What's wrong? "Just a ghost who loses his temper occasionally without an explanation. But don't worry; he's harmless enough. Just don't call him a gangster."

"You're hilarious," Rosalie drawled, gasping when another growl erupted in the distance.

"See?" I said.

"Holy crap, let's get inside!" Alice sprinted toward the house, and with the same sort of thrill born of drunken disbelief, Rosalie followed. They shot up the porch steps, stiletto heels click-clacking an uneven beat.

For the coordination-challenged, that sort of feat wasn't quite as simple. Moreover, despite the intoxication clouding my judgment, an uneasy feeling punctured the haze of inebriated insouciance, if not unconcern.

"Are you okay?" I whispered.

"Stop talking to your ghost, and come open the door!" Alice laughed. "Also, who does your shoveling? This is one heck of a job!"

"Seriously, not one shard of ice from driveway to front door. How much do they charge?"

After a moment of hesitation, I about-faced like a wobbly spinning top. Despite my tipsiness, I was aware that sprinting, as they had, wasn't a good idea for me. Therefore, I skipped.

Unfortunately, skipping was no better for me. I stumbled on the second of six porch steps and fell forward, poised to face plant and break my nose, knock out a tooth or two, and maybe fracture a limb.

Rosalie and Alice gave simultaneous loud and useless gasps.

An inch from the ground, an arm slid around my waist and hoisted me like a bungee rope. Soaring up the rest of the porch steps, I was wordlessly set in front of the door.

"Ooh, good save, Bella!" Alice cheered, clapping her hands.

"Damn, girl! Simone Biles, eat your heart out!"

I strutted around the porch in the peacock strut of the triumphant, throwing my arms up in the air and "Tah-tah-tahda-da-da-dah'ing" my way through the Olympic anthem, then cheering for myself with every cheer I could think of.

"Hurrah! Huzzah! Hiyaah!"

All the while, Alice and Rosalie laughed uncontrollably, and I joined in when I stumbled once more, hearing Edward's grumble as he righted me yet again. When I felt him back away, I stuck out my tongue in his general direction.

"Bella, stop! Please! I'm gonna pee myself!"

"Oh, my God, who would'a known you were our fucking type of nutcase?!"

"Now we can be fucking best friends forever!"

I turned to unlock the door, but all the numbers on the key lock meshed into one incomprehensible jumble. Another grumble preceded an unseen hand wrapped around mine. I shivered as he held onto it, concurrently tapping in the correct key code with his other invisible hand. The door unlocked, and Edward pushed it open before moving away again.

"Thank you," I offered with a smile that received no reply. I moved aside to usher Rosalie and Alice in, both of whom sauntered forward, wholly unaware and ready to make themselves at home. I remained by the door for a handful of seconds, but when all I saw was the wintry landscape, and all I heard and felt was the gusting wind, I shut the door.

Rosalie and Alice were already showing themselves around, flipping on light switches, while Rosalie played the museum docent, and Alice nodded in awe.

"Damn! Had I known the house would clean up this nicely, I would've bought it years ago!"

"Too bad," I grinned. "You, missy," – I pointed sharply at her in a circular pattern – "were all too gleeful at selling me what you thought a money pit, so long as it got ya a few great pairs of Red-Bottoms."

"Guilty as charged." She shamelessly raised a hand high up in the air, then lifted one foot, showing me her scarlet sole. "But just look at these."

"They are great," I nodded.

"I am, I am!" she laughed.

"Al, you and those fucking shoes!" Rose laughed. "Anyway, you'll choke on those Red-Bottoms when you see the rest of the house. The furnishings here and above stairs are just as impressive." She strode from room to room with the confident, smug gait of someone who knew her shit in and out. "Speaking of which, that contract still needs to be signed, B! But not now, cuz we're smashed."

"Agreed."

"Oh my God, look at this room! And this! Was this always here?" Alice asked, running a palm smoothly over Edward's piano. "Bella, do you play?"

"No. No, not me."

"Please tell me you plan to host many parties here!"

"I don't know yet," I hedged, suddenly feeling much more sober. "Al, please be careful with that piano. It's…it's special."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Rose asked. "This house was made for gatherings, so long as you keep the antiques nice and safe," she qualified. When she looked over at me with a wicked grin, I knew her well enough by now to guess she'd say something outrageous.

"Bella, have you had sex in this house yet?"

I choked on air, spluttering while my cheeks flamed, and I prayed for the first time all night that Edward was nowhere nearby.

"Uhm…not- not-"

"Not with anything besides your hand yet," Rosalie nodded as if she could read my mind. "Got it. That's fine. Dry spells happen," she reassured me with a careless wave. "But girl, do try to find someone to fuck while those mountains are still snow-covered. Just look at those views! Those are views for fucking if I ever saw a fucking view."

I hid my mortified face behind both hands. Sweet Christmas Baby Jesus, please don't let Edward be hearing this!

It wasn't as if Rosalie said anything terrible, or honestly, even shocking, in terms of conversations between women. However, that was it: these were conversations usually held between women.

"Views for fucking if I ever saw a fucking view," Alice echoed. "That's a tongue twister right there."

"Man, I could twist my tongue into Emmett's mouth right over this upholstered Queen Anne sofa," Rose said, throwing herself heavily over the sofa. She looked up at me. "Seriously, B, do you have a boyfriend other than your imaginary-"

"Shhh!" I shushed her, rushing over and flattening my hand over her big mouth. She snickered against my palm, knocking me off balance when she tried to swat me away. We tussled briefly; then, I landed dizzily next to her. The false sense of giddiness caused by one too many was beginning to wear off.

"Stop," I hissed through my teeth."Please."

"Fine, fine." She rolled her eyes, and slowly, I pulled away my hand. "But who is this guy you claim you're in love with? I hope it's not Tony 'cause you can do much better."

I rested my head against the headrest and shut my eyes. "Seriously, you're revealing way too much."

She snorted. "To who, the house?"

"Yeah," I breathed.

"For real, though," Alice said, sitting at my other side so the three of us were squeezed in. "What a POS that guy turned out to be. Though maybe he's good for a quick hook-up?"

"Nah," Rosalie disagreed. "Not even that. Use your vibrator if you get that horny. His good looks don't make up for his cock-suckery."

"His good looks…" I murmured. "He is good-looking, but…"

"Rose, you're biased 'cause you've got friggin' Emmett," Alice said.

"True," Rose agreed with an unapologetic shrug in her voice. "No one tops Emmett – 'cept me. I top him good."

We all laughed again, but much more tiredly. I felt myself slipping away...

"We would've been good together…he and I…but…"

The next thing I knew, it was morning.

OOOOO

The Confessions of Edward A. Masen – Former Bootlegger…and Maybe One-Time-Quasi-Gangster (though I'd never admit it).

But Undoubtedly, Now A Ghost.

A truck pulled up in the early hours of the morning. When I heard the telltale crunch of tires over gravel, I pulled back the curtain covering the foyer window, watching the Ford pick-up roll into the driveway. The driver killed the engine.

While I pushed my carving knife's curved blade through a small piece of rough wood, methodically shaping the preliminary form of my latest project, the vehicle's occupant sat in the pick-up's cabin, likely debating his next steps. A few minutes later, the truck's door opened, and Emmett, the Carpenter slash Electrician, hopped out, slamming the door behind him. He craned his thick neck and glanced up warily at the house.

"Don't sweat it too much," I murmured, whittling away. "You haven't given me a reason yet."

As if he'd heard me, he drew in a deep breath, and then his burly frame trudged up the porch steps, kicking the thin layer of snow gathered overnight off his boots and onto the porch. With Bella peacefully sleeping, I hadn't yet bothered to shovel. As he stood before the door, I scored against the grain, shaving thin slices off the main piece. I had about a minute or so of carving left before a crucial decision had to be made:

Would I shape the head of this wooden hair stick, the first in a six-hair-stick collection I had planned, into dragonfly or butterfly heads?

Years…decades ago, when I was Edward Masen, Soldier-Newly-Returned-from-War, I'd spotted a similar set of wooden hair sticks embedded into the wig of a storefront mannequin in Seattle, her plastic head full of fake blonde fibers styled into a complicated updo. The updo itself hadn't impressed me, but I'd paused before the window, removing my hat and pressing it against my chest, pulled up short by the delicate beauty, the fine details, and the craftsmanship of the clips. I'd shut my eyes, pictured myself carving a set, then tenderly slipping them into a silky head of authentic dark waves – only to pull them right back out and watch those waves tumble around a smooth pair of shoulders.

At that moment, I had no idea who I'd craft such a fine set of hairsticks for other than for the yet-unknown woman who'd inspire me. For her, I'd recreate that and much more.

I never did carve them, at least, not while I was alive, not for any woman I met as Edward Masen, the Unemployed Vet, or as Edward Masen, the Delivery Man for Aro, or as Edward Masen, the Bootlegger. Matter of fact, I strode away from that storefront that day and never gave those hair sticks another thought.

Not 'til a few weeks ago, as Edward Masen, the Ghost.

Either way, if any man other than Emmett, the electrician, had stood and deliberated at Bella's and my door as long as he was currently deliberating, I probably would've scared him off.

Hell, who was I kidding? There was no probably about it. With three women passed out drunk in the living room, and one of those being the most important individual in my existence, yeah. Yeah, I would've scared away – smashed hard-packed snowballs into faces, loosed a solid tree branch against kneecaps, deafened via a disembodied howl primely placed to puncture an eardrum. All methods I'd unapologetically employed in the past when nosey fuckers came around, sniffing after my stash. And now, with an even bigger treasure to guard, I would've employed mind over matter and used my fists if all else failed.

Butterflies. She'd favor butterflies. Grinning to myself, I began on their shape.

The thing was, I knew Emmett – more or less. At least, I knew he was one of the decent fellas. And though I'd admittedly been a bit wary for the first couple of hours after Bella's new friends dropped off into supposed sleep, not entirely convinced that either or both weren't feigning only to go wandering about while Bella snored on the couch, they'd pleasantly surprised me and soon snored along with her.

Leaning against the wall, I made a paring cut into the wood, snoring when Emmett repeatedly rang the doorbell. The women refused to stir.

"You might have a long wait, buddy," I chuckled. "Those three had quite a night."

They were piled in a heap, cocooned inside the blankets I'd retrieved from the linen closet Bella kept neatly stacked and supplied. I'd checked on them periodically throughout the night. However, it was an uneasy balancing act, that of respecting their female boundaries while also ensuring none of them drowned in a pool of their own vomit after what was a night of considerable elbow-bending.

Even so, it was the one in the middle I did it all for - checked that the other two didn't hog the blankets, their limbs didn't tangle around her waist or neck, and that they didn't knock her to the floor. But every time I took a quick and cautious peek, they'd barely budged. Whatwasthe final tally? Four double champagne flutes and three shots? Damn.

Despite the ache of agony in a chest that shouldn't have been capable of such emotions, I chuckled under my breath as I took her in. Her hair resembled a bird's nest, her makeup was streaked, her lips were slightly parted, and a drop of saliva glistened at one corner of her mouth.

Nevertheless, a series of short, successive sighs escaped me. The very sight of her was breathtaking. Soul-stirring. Inspirational.

She inspired agony, that's for sure. Yet she also inspired humor. She inspired fury, but she inspired a serenity I'd never known possible. She aroused bewilderment and understanding, elation and despair, and a host of sensations, emotions, and urges I hadn't felt in ages, some of which I now realized I'd never truly felt when I lived and breathed.

She aroused regret – a deep-seated regret for what should've been yet, confoundingly, could never be. Some unknown, inexplicable force had kept me around, if not alive. That same morbidly twisted force set her before me yet made her unattainable. A few weeks ago, Isabella Swan bulldozed her way into my house and my cold, dead heart. Our greatest common factor was a house. Our greatest common divisor was Life. She was heart-stopping. Brave. Intelligent. Maddening. And beautifully...alive.

I was not.

And if that wasn't a depressing thought…

So I watched her and allowed quiet amusement to remain the driving emotion. As petite as she was, my hellion could push 'em back with the best of them.

But amusement faded quickly as it always did nowadays, and I expelled a long and deep breath. She was not my hellion.

After a handful of rings, Emmett gave up on the doorbell and resorted to beefy, hard knocks. Not for the first time in my ghostly existence, I vacillated about making my presence known. In the end, I took pity on him. Had I been in his boots, and my reason for existing disappeared overnight, I'd be banging down doors, too - if those doors were within the boundaries of this property.

Pulling open the small drawer in the entryway table, I stored the knife and wood, then approached the trio of sleeping beauties.

Wait, was that sexist, even if I meant it tongue-in-cheek? I'd ask Bella later. For now, as I drew nearer, I had to remain focused and vigilant.

I'd taken an enormous risk more than once in the past twelve hours. But damn it, when that unfamiliar vehicle pulled into the driveway last night in a tire-shrieking rush after she'd been gone for hours, when she'd sent no text to her laptop as she'd promised to if ever unexpectedly detained, and when the dark-haired realtor named Alice had stepped out of the backseat laughing while carelessly dragging out Bella's body, my dead heart had leaped into my throat.

Consumed by a crimson haze of bewildering fear and fury, I'd sent all ingrained chivalry to hell and shoved Alice aside. Then I'd firmly yet gently pulled Bella out myself. Half-crazed by her initial unresponsiveness, I'd been petrified, made uselessly immobile by the belief that she was injured, that maybe Bella had figured out what I'd given her, and with every right to do so, she'd shared the information. And they'd hurt her for it.

At the same time, I abhorred myself for not warning her, not cautioning her that centuries might pass, times might change, and technology might evolve by leaps and bounds. Yet there were still those who'd smile, joke, laugh to your face, pretend to care, even love you, and then stab you in the back.

I hated myself for never telling her that somehow, in my final moments, and as I shut my eyes, I saw her indelible face behind my lids. It was she who smiled at me from this house, from where she currently slept, flanked by Alice and Rose. Yet in that vision, instead of being flanked by Alice and Rose…

Well, there was no point in thinking about it.

But that was why when last evening, I smelled the liquor on her, saw the glazed expression on her beautiful face and the dilated pupils of her warm brown eyes, and when I finally understood that she wasn't hurt, merely drunk, my palpable relief almost made me drunk. It made me giddy for a few heartrending moments, careless enough to imbue my voice and touch with every ounce of what I felt for her. Because I felt her life force once again, and it empowered me…until I realized that I was, indeed, sucking up her life force, stealing it, draining her like a damn vampire.

So, I pulled away.

Yet I kept myself near, took advantage of the fact that she was intoxicated, and convinced myself that she might still need my help. Sure enough, she'd stumbled again. But the truth was that she'd survived her own two left feet for twenty-five years with no serious repercussions. What hubris gave me the right to hope she needed me to survive now?

Still, I remained near and granted myself the selfish privilege of enjoying the adorably goofy drunk she made. Yeah, I'd enjoyed the entire show – until...

When I was a kid, my momma would say, 'Ed, there's nothing like a misplaced ear to show you the difference between how you see the world and how it sees you.'

It took me some time to grasp the meaning of that. Matter of fact, never had I grasped its lesson so well as I did last night.

I knew the world was different from how I saw it while trapped within the boundaries of this property. It was a world that had left me behind. For decades, it was a world I gave two fucks about. But my momma's words reminded me that Bella had a Life beyond these boundaries. I wasn't surprised when Alice said there'd been tons of eyes on Bella at that party – a party she'd never mentioned. The gut-wrenching revelation was that one specific pair of eyes, belonging to Tony, who'd texted her more than once in maddeningly intimate terms, had settled on her that evening. From what I overheard, it seemed he'd settled more than his eyes on her.

I knew I had no right to feel rabid every time I heard that fucker's name. I had no right to imagine him showing up to the door, as Emmett had, except rather than looking for Rosalie, he'd be here for Bella - only to have me tear off his head.

I could do it, too. Mind over matter.

But I had no right.

Still, I loathed him. I detested this unknown Tony for sharing her flesh-and-bloodness as well as the intimacy with her that I craved the way a starving man craved just one damn morsel.

But I had no right.

I knew this. Yet, the outrage lingered. And grew.

Which was why, as soon as Bella and her friends made it safely indoors last night, I did more than pull back. I took myself away, only returning later to make sure that they were – that she was – safe.

Now, while Emmett stood impatiently outdoors, knocking, more like banging with ever-increasing vigor and urgency and calling out his girlfriend's name...

"Rosie, baby! Sorry, but 360 says you're here!"

(What the hell was 360?)

...I shook my head and leaned into Bella's ear, a smile spreading as I inhaled her unique scent. Swallowing thickly, I whispered her name.

"Bella."

Nothing.

I tried again, a bit louder. "Bella."

Still nothing. Chuckling, I lifted a hand and ran it gently through the tangled strands of her falling over her face, gently pushing them back. Maybe they were blocking her hearing.

"Miss Swan..."

Here, she finally stirred, mumbling half-intelligible words from whatever dream still lingered beside her as she crossed the bridge from asleep to awake. "No, Mr. Molina…don't want to sit...hungry boy...respect my boundaries!"

Frowning, I pulled my hand back. "I try, Bella. Wake up."

Her eyes fluttered open. "Ed…Edward…"

She smiled, and despite all attempts to inure myself, it was as impossible as inuring oneself to the sun's glory, even when her smile faded and she cradled her disheveled head.

"Ugh, my head," she groaned hoarsely.

I offered her a sympathetic smile. "Yeah, I'm afraid you're feeling that today, but for now..." - I jerked my jaw toward her sleeping blond friend - "Emmett, the Electrician, is about to knock down the door, searching for that one."

Bella blinked, making a valiant attempt to clear more of the fog of sleep from her head and what I imagined were just the opening shots of a massive hangover attack. As she slowly rotated her neck, I heard the cracks and creaks resulting from last night's contorted sleep positions. I caught when she noted the couch and the blankets with a question in her eyes. She looked even more startled to discover Rosalie at one end of the couch and Alice at the other while she lay sandwiched in between.

"Ahh," she finally breathed, nodding as she ran a hand through her hair, fisting it at her crown. "Emmett...looking for Rosalie. Okay." She smacked her lips and grimaced, her tongue lolling. "Blegh, I've got a dirty, sandy beach in my mouth."

I chuckled. "I'll grab you some water while you sort this out."

She offered me another one of her smiles. "Thank you, Edward. Not…not just for the water."

"No problem, Bella."

I pivoted.

"And Edward," Bella added in a sharp whisper, ensuring I turned back toward her, though she could've mouthed my name, and I would've about-faced. "Please don't go too far. You and I…we need to talk."

Swallowing, I nodded, quickly retrieving my carving knife and wood before moving to the kitchen. From there, I finished the first hair stick and started on the second while hearing the commotion when Emmett was finally allowed in and vociferously expressed all his relief at finding Rosalie alive and well.

Conversely, Rosalie was indignant.

"Emmett, I told you 360 was just for emergencies!"

"Rosie, baby, this was an emergency!"

"Cut him some slack, Miss Hale," I murmured while whittling away. "Love makes us guys nutcases."

Eventually, the two settled their differences, and the group of four fell into laughter and easy conversation. It was simple for humans to settle their differences when none of those differences involved the dead existing among the living. When someone said something that made Bella laugh heartily, I grinned broadly and wished I could go in there and ask what was said to make her so...

No.

No, for a ghost, there was no sense in wishing.

Eventually, it quieted down. I gave it another few minutes to ensure everyone was gone. Then, storing away my project, I took a deep breath of comingled expectation, eagerness, and agony and threw off the metaphorical invisibility cloak. I made myself visible, physically tangible—if not legitimately mortal. After a century of trial and error, it was as simple as shrugging off a heavy coat. As easy as mind over matter.

Then I picked up Bella's glass of water and returned to the living room.

A/N: Thoughts?

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