A/N: And we're back!

Just in time for the holidays, here is another story I've finally completed! It will be posted every other day through December 24th. Thanks so much to those who've pm'd me and stuck around. :)

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

Chapter 13 – Hot Frosty

I turned sideways in my chair as Edward walked into my living room – into our living room. His gait was slow and wary, unlike the confident, innate strut I was accustomed to from Ed Masen, a one-time bootlegger and quasi-gangster who was now a ghost. It was almost as if we'd somehow changed places over the past twenty-four hours, and he was now the human, and I'd become the specter to be frightened of, the unpredictable wraith who, at any moment, might cause mayhem.

Not that I'd ever truly been frightened of Edward, not even in those first few days after I moved in when he thought I was here to steal his secret stash of cash and kept trying to terrify me out of his house. Still, I suppose the inexplicable events of the past twenty-four hours – when I'd suddenly and temporarily taken on the spectral characteristics of a ghost and unintentionally slipped a hand through doorknobs and lifted objects in midair – left us both bewildered. He approached me on steady yet languid feet. Though for all his care, my heart still raced at his relative proximity. Again, this was not due to fear but rather its opposite: Anticipation. It was as if every step that brought him nearer gave my heart a bigger jolt as if he were a walking, talking defibrillator.

So…I couldn't deny it to myself any longer: Edward's presence in a room tended to zap my heart. What's more, I'd missed him. I'd missed his absence from my day-to-day life, even for the half day or so that we'd kept our distance from one another.

Although I knew the past twenty-four hours left Edward as confounded as they left me, he looked as immaculate as always in physical appearance. That three-piece suit he never shook looked as pristinely pressed as always. Its custom fit did its job, outlining his broad shoulders and sinewy arms, narrowing along a muscular chest, then further to a trim waistline and long, toned legs. His consistently shiny, black patent leather shoes completed the visual of a man who, in life, took care to always appear his best.

At last, Edward stopped and sat on the upholstered, turn-of-the-twentieth-century sofa a few feet away from me. He sat far enough away from where I was at my desk to ensure that the strange burst of energy that always hummed between us like an electric livewire, the one that tended to swallow me whole, didn't engulf me in its orbit. It was a shame that such a thing had to be avoided. Nothing had ever felt as amazing, as powerful…as right as the sensation I'd felt during those few times when I'd gotten caught in Edward's energy.

Yet, therein lay the problem. Somehow, that energy, that force field was affecting me, was turning me into…something else.

For a few moments, Ed and I locked gazes. He leaned forward, resting his forearms over his long, lean legs and loosely threading his fingers together in the space between them. His emerald eyes glowed like twinkling lights in the shadow of our Christmas tree's luminescence. I blinked before that sight could mesmerize me too much.

"Where were you?"

"Walking around the property for a while. I wanted to give you…space," he sighed, his eyes searching my face before continuing, "at least, as much as I could."

I offered him a soft smile. "You know, you can give me space without leaving your house. It is a big one."

He chuckled, but the sound of it held little humor. "Either way, I couldn't go very far. I can't leave the boundaries of the property. Whenever I've tried, it's as if I hit a physical wall."

"Yeah, you've told me that." My head cocked sideways. "Did you try now?"

He nodded.

"To go where?" I wondered.

Again, Edward sighed, his gaze panning away from me. He moved it to the windows just to the side, and I followed its trajectory to the outdoor wintry scene. A gentle yet steady snowfall fell like the heavens powdered a giant birthday cake. In the background, the afternoon sun was beginning to set and was at that stage where it somehow burned even brighter than during the daytime, as if fighting its forced descent.

"That's the question, isn't it? Where would I go?" he asked, his gaze shifting upward to an airplane flying far in the distance, as small as a bird. "There are airplanes now. Bullet trains. Electric cars that neither need to be wound nor filled with gasoline. Ships take passengers to all four corners of the world and beyond on pleasure sailings that have nothing to do with the destination." He paused, his smooth brow furrowing thoughtfully. "But where would I go? This is no longer my world. Though it is a magnificently interesting one."

His words made my chest tighten and my mouth open, words that would make it all better dangling on the tip of my tongue. I'd tell him that today's world was a giant dumpster fire, that he wasn't missing out on anything all that amazing out there, that he…we were better off locking ourselves into this tiny little corner of Forks, remaining in this little snow globe we'd built for ourselves and living an Everyday-is-a-magical-Christmas sort of existence away from the rest of the world.

But…despite all the shit going on on Planet Earth, it was a fantastic world. I'd neither lie nor be patronizing with Edward by pretending otherwise. Moreover, I knew he wasn't seeking pity as much as simply…someone to hear him.

"I apologize for invading your privacy."

When he quirked an eyebrow in question, I gave him a contrite smile while bowing my head toward my laptop, where all the tabs Edward had opened remained.

Ed's eyes trailed over the laptop, and he snorted. "You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. Besides, it's your laptop."

"That doesn't give me the right to-"

"Bella," he interrupted, setting a palm up between us. But then he just as quickly dropped it and sucked his teeth. "Damn. I apologize. I should not have interrupted you. As a woman, you have just as much of a right to speak as I do, perhaps even more. Please continue." He used the hand he'd raised between us to gesture that I should proceed. "Though I truly hope you won't resume an apology."

My eyes grew round at this. I blinked a few times. Then I laughed and turned completely in my chair, facing Edward head-on.

"All right, now what the hell brought this on?" I asked through continued chortles. "Because though I'll give you props for improvement on your sexist and misogynistic tendencies over the past few weeks, this is some about-face!"

Despite my words, Edward grinned. "It was an enlightening afternoon."

"So I see," I nodded. "And I also see from the plethora of open tabs on my laptop that it was a busy afternoon."

He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers digging through his scalp, where he found and snatched a fistful of what looked like undeniably silky-soft locks. The streaming sunlight grabbed and pulled them into its magnificent glow, highlighting every copper thread like holiday tinsel.

"Bella, how do people's brains not explode from information overload nowadays?"

I threw back my head and laughed yet again. "I honestly have no idea," I admitted.

When I met his green eyes, they sparkled with more than humor. Instead, I thought I detected something resembling…awe.

"I've learned a lot, yeah," he nodded, his hand still gripping his scalp, "not the least being that it's no wonder I've irritated you these past few weeks with the unappreciative, off-handed way I've referred to women."

I raised both brows. "Really?"

When he finally released the tight grip on his hair, I breathed an inconspicuous sigh of relief. Hair that perfect had no business being abused so thoughtlessly.

"Women are amazing!" Ed declared, then enumerated his proof one by one on his long fingers, beginning with his thumb. "You've got Amelia Earhart, Rosa Parks, Malala, RGB, and Jennifer Lopez." This last he added on his extended pinky with an undeniably wicked grin that made my eyes roll even as it sent butterflies fluttering through my stomach.

"Yes, yes, those are all lovely examples of our magnificence," I smirked, crossing my arms against my chest, "but amazing women have existed since the dawn of time, so don't expect a pat on the head for admitting to that now, thanks to the internet. Or for drooling over JLo, ya perve-ball."

It was his turn to laugh, the sound rumbling through the room and echoing off the walls…then reverberating through my insides.

"You're right, you're right, and I regret how long it's taken me to consider all your accomplishments and appreciate how unbelievably awesome that makes you, Bella." Despite how his voice dropped at the end, the awe and respect back in his tone were unmistakable, and my breath caught in my throat. Until Ed quickly cleared his throat and added, "Obviously, I refer to all women when I say that."

A wave of disappointment washed over me at that clarification, which was ridiculous. Hadn't I spent weeks chastising Ed for his sometimes dismissive and sexist tendencies when speaking of women? I should've been overjoyed that his newfound awe was for women.

"Obviously," I agreed with an instinctive frown and a tone of dejectedness that I briskly forced away. Instead, I replaced it with the kudos he deserved. "And well…you did live in a very different time, Ed. I suppose I can cut your previous ignorance some slack."

"Thank you for your magnanimous understanding," he teased, his gaze warm with mirth. We chuckled together, but soon, the humor dissipated on both ends. Our eyes held across the space between us. His gaze was weighty, heavy and intense, and veiled with enigmatic thoughts swirling dark in jade irises. I felt as if I could quickly lose myself in those eyes.

All the while, a pair of wholly separate questions balanced on the tip of my tongue. One was about Charlotte, and the other was about me. However, like identical twins, both questions developed from a single thought that split in two: a thought about what type of women Edward considered remarkable.

Charlotte Gray was one of these women. After all, she'd been the love of his life, the woman he'd asked to marry him and who'd been pregnant with his child when he died. I was the woman he lived with now that he was a ghost with no other choice since he couldn't, and wouldn't, leave his property.

From the tabs he left open on my laptop, I learned that Edward had Charlotte and me in mind as he conducted his earlier research. His search engine query on Charlotte contained only one word: Charlotte.

It was…strange. Even someone as inexperienced with the internet as Edward had to know how useless a search that was. In his time's tangible phone book terms, typing one word into an internet search was tantamount to turning to one of the thousands upon thousands of ultra-thin yellowed pages with the letter 'C' and hoping for the best.

So, why had he been so vague with his query? What did he fear he'd uncover if he ever discovered what became of Charlotte Gray and their child?

In contrast, the query Edward conducted about me read:

What might cause a vibrant, intelligent, young, and beautiful woman to take on the qualities of a ghost?

The questions swirled – his trepidations regarding Charlotte mixed with my growing trepidations about her and why I had growing trepidations. It melded with questions about why he'd conducted her search engine query and mine so differently, and it all led me to put my questions about her on the back burner. Instead, and undeniably self-interestedly, I focused on myself and blurted,

"So, what did you discover about…well?" I gestured with a hand between us.

Edward raised a dark eyebrow over questioning eyes, and I knew what he was thinking as clearly as if he'd said it out loud. He was questioning my sudden inability to verbalize since, by now, he knew I was nothing if not blunt.

"You mean, what, if anything, did I uncover about the fact that you somehow displayed characteristics usually more in line with my ghostly realm despite your being very much alive?"

"Yes. That."

Silently, he held my gaze. Once again, his eyes moved to my laptop. "May I?" he asked.

"Sure," I agreed. Nevertheless, I gasped in surprise when Edward levitated my laptop and slowly dragged it through the air. The next moment, it landed safely and soundly on his pristine slacks. When my eyes met his, he grinned impishly.

"Miss Swan, you should be used to that already."

"I should be, Mr. Masen, but how does one become inured to a ghost?"

"How indeed?" he breathed. Then, turning to the laptop, Ed tapped away like a pro. All the while, he summarized his methodology for me, telling me about the hits he found, which ones he chose to open, and short blurbs on what he got from them.

I was only half-tuned in. I was much more amazed by how…different Ed suddenly seemed. No longer so much a twentieth-century ghost lost among altered times and evolved technology, but rather a man who, trapped within a supernatural border neither of us could understand, had found a way to enter the twenty-first century.

Forcing myself to leave those musings for later, I tuned into Edward's words.

"…so I've taken what I've picked up based on all that research and sort of…melded it with a theory of my own."

"And what have you come up with?"

Ed's eyes remained on the laptop's screen. Then he set it on the coffee table, turning its screen toward me. I knew he intended for me to check his research. But I couldn't tear my eyes away from him, from how…nervous he suddenly appeared again, just as he'd appeared when he first walked into the living room.

He swallowed, still staring at the laptop. "Based on my research, I think…that you might operate on a different frequency, for lack of a clearer term, than most humans, one that allows you to see things that most other people can't see. Is it chemical? Biological?" He narrowed his gaze, pondering as he spoke. Finally, with a shake of his head, he returned his attention to me.

"That part is still to be determined, though with how science and technology advance at leaps and bounds nowadays, I'm sure it will be someday soon. But there's a historical precedence for people who can see what others can't." He tapped at the laptop's screen, where I assumed he laid the backup information for what he was conveying. But my eyes remained on him. "Stories of ghost sightings have existed since almost the beginning of time, long before the internet age. I certainly used to hear them, though I never gave them any credence; frankly, I found them ridiculous," he shrugged, then ran a hand through his hair, "that is, until I became a ghost myself."

"So, what you're saying," I said slowly, "is that you've found information that might explain why I'm able to see you – because there's something chemically or biologically wrong with me."

"No, Bella," he said with a frown and disapproving tone. "I never said there was anything wrong with you. You're different. Perhaps even advanced."

I couldn't agree with him, and perhaps that was my fault. Instead of scanning his research as he'd set it before me, I'd kept my eyes on him. Yet, I doubted that anything he could've shown me in cyberspace would've convinced me that, had I bought a house with any other ghost, I would've been able to see it and feel it in the same manner that I saw and felt Edward. But I kept this thought to myself. Instead, I said,

"Either way, none of it explains how or why I could levitate things or why my hand went through the doorknob. It doesn't explain why I'm beginning to act like a ghost," I said bluntly.

Edward expelled a heavy breath, his handsome features clouding all the more. He raked a hand over his face, trailing his fingers to his hair and again gripping it hard.

"Bella, I've thought it nonstop over the past twenty-four hours. First, I wondered what it is about you. Then I wondered what it is about me. Finally, I wondered what is it about…"

"Us?" I whispered.

He nodded slowly, his Adam's apple bobbing. His eyes swept to the Christmas tree, and when a wistful smile momentarily quirked the corners of his mouth, I wondered what he was thinking of. Was he thinking of us – of when we set the tree up together a few days ago, of the laughter and teasing we'd shared?

Or was he imagining an alternate scenario, one where he hadn't been murdered on a Christmas Eve over one hundred years in the past, and instead, he'd married his pregnant girlfriend, and together, they'd raised their child around similar Christmas trees?

Either way, Ed's smile quickly faded. He dropped his hand from his hair and set both in fists over his thighs. When he spoke again, his words came out thick and uneasy, his eyes raking over the tree's lights as if searching for one about to go out and betray the entire string.

"I think that, maybe," he qualified, "when I was alive, I operated on a similar frequency as yours. Perhaps we shared the still-undiscovered chemical or biological anomaly, though I was never in a situation where I saw ghosts. But, perhaps, this chemical or biological anomaly might explain why I'm a ghost; why, when I died, rather than wholly disappearing into whatever realm departed souls wander to, a part of me remained." Abruptly, his eyes found me again. "Perhaps it's that anomaly at work."

"The anomaly is what binds us," I realized.

He nodded.

"It's chemistry," I breathed. "Age-old chemistry. We share it."

"I think that perhaps," he said cautiously, locking me in his gaze, "had you and I met when I was alive, this anomaly, this chemistry we share may have expressed itself…in a different manner."

"A different manner…as in…?"

Because there it was. He felt it, too. Yet instead of this realization buoying him and thereby buoying me, the way Edward's already angular jaw suddenly locked into a rigid angle made my stomach drop. Because his features were suddenly so tense and tight that he no longer looked real. Instead, he looked chiseled, an ice sculpture, a snowman who might crack into pieces at the slightest provocation.

When he shook his head, misery etched itself into every line, suddenly marring his forehead.

"Bella, I'm not alive," he hissed, "and the closer we allow ourselves to grow, the more this chemistry that binds us pulls you into my realm."

"So what?" I spat, bewildered by his fury.

"So what?" he echoed incredulously, his anger, his voice building. He stood abruptly and stormed to the other side of the room. I turned around in my chair to follow him with my eyes. He took up a pace in front of the fireplace, and suddenly, a fire blazed in the hearth. Indigo flames licked and danced, keeping a frantic time with Edward's furious back-and-forth pace. He stopped and faced me.

"So what? The way you were able to levitate objects earlier, in and of itself, that wouldn't be so bad, but losing your corporealness, your amazing flesh and blood?" he gritted. "That is unacceptable, Bella! And I have no idea how permanent it becomes the more it happens!"

Shaking my head, I tried to remain calm, to remain in control, and to feign a confidence I didn't feel through straightened shoulders and an uplifted chin.

"Edward, it's just a theory. You have no real proof-"

"I have no proof, but do you have a better theory?" he threw back, apparently wholly forgetting his earlier resolve about not interrupting women as they spoke. "Do you have a better one?" he repeated, fisting his hair once more, "because, Bella, if you do, I would love to hear it."

The last words erupted through a strained voice of desperation as if begging me…pleading with me to come up with something else. But…I didn't have anything else. After a few tense, helpless moments, my shoulders sagged, all feigned confidence pooling like melted snow at my feet. Dropping my head, I shook it from side to side.

The blazing fire tutted melancholically in its hearth. Outside, the wind whistled through our evergreens. Snow fell silently in the foreground of a setting sun.

Edward broke the silence, his voice now sounding more controlled if undeniably wistful.

"I think, if we keep our distance, not just physical but…emotional distance, these issues – your taking on ghostly, incorporeal characteristics – will resolve themselves."

He stopped, waiting for me to say something. But I had nothing. I couldn't even look up. So, he continued, his voice hoarse yet gentle.

"Bella Swan, I've admitted to you that…that I did some questionable shit when I was alive." He chuckled mirthlessly. "Probably as a ghost as well, though some of those fuckers deserved it. Nevertheless, that's neither here nor there because the worst thing I could ever do…" His voice dropped low yet grew even rougher, its grit skimming against my skin and raising the goose bumps he'd failed to ever raise through fear. "The worst thing in my life or afterlife I could ever do is sap the energy from a life that shines as brightly as yours, steal even an atom of what makes you you."

Hearing those words shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. After all, Edward…was a ghost.

There was no denying that fact. There was no way around it. Whether chemistry, attraction or some other biological anomaly existed between us didn't matter. He was dead! I was alive! We did not mesh!

Except…except that over the past few weeks and somewhere along the lines…those acute differences between us had begun blurring like a winter's scene blurred by damp snow. Like a snowball turned upside down, its glitter camouflaging everything else in the background.

And yes, his theory made sense, as much as I abhorred it. For a moment, for a split second, when I looked up and met his doleful gaze, I opened my mouth, ready to suggest that there was a counter-theory for every theory! There was a solution to every problem! We could find a way around it!

But…why would Ed want to explore a solution? He'd died in love with Charlotte, with the woman who'd carried his child. That love likely still existed within him despite any chemistry between us.

So, instead of fighting what was likely a one-sided fight…I agreed.

"Okay."

Because there was no future with a man – ghost or not – who didn't want me. Aunt Gigi would've said that was probably why I was so attracted to him in the first place because, in the haunting words of a woman who'd lived with mid-twentieth-century ideals, I was one of those modern women who always wanted what was out of reach. I could almost hear her laughing at me.

Her imagined laughter died down when, from across the room, with the Christmas lights twinkling in my periphery and with the fireplace glowing behind him, Edward offered me a heartrending smile.

"I think we need to set up…boundaries, or perhaps more accurately, I should set up boundaries. I need to stop acting as if I'm still part of your world and as if, somehow, you can be part of mine."

"Edward, at least allow me to acknowledge that I need to set up those boundaries as well," I said with more bite in my tone than I'd displayed all afternoon.

He conceded with a rueful grimace. "I'm stealing your agency, aren't I?"

Despite my melancholy, I chuckled and nodded.

"You're correct. We both need boundaries."

We held one another's gazes across the darkening room.

"I'd still like to help with your book," he added briskly, throwing a hand up, and as if that's what was filling my head at the moment, concerns about my book, "to offer my services in any way I can. And my help around the house- that is, when you need or want my assistance," he sputtered. "Of course, I'm aware that you're more than capable of taking care of most, if not all, of the issues around here without my assistance, Bella, including the bills. Woman run households, businesses, empires all on their own all the time nowadays, don't they?" He ran a hand through his hair. "So many successful single moms, Queen Elizabeth, and Taylor Swift."

I chuckle much more heartily. "Edward, stop while you're ahead."

"I sense that I should," he grinned. "And after all, were I truly as dead and gone as I should be, I wouldn't be here to offer assistance anyway. Would I?"

"No, I suppose you wouldn't." I stood. "So, distance. That's the crux of the issue."

He nodded. "But I'll still help with your book."

"Yes, thank you. God forbid we forget to add that into our agreement," I said, rolling my eyes with no little sarcasm. But then I sighed. "Thank you, Edward. As for the Victorian's restoration, would you still like to be involved with that? I have to meet Rosalie tomorrow at her office to sign the final contract.

He raised a palm between us. "I'll only be as involved as you'd like me to be. This is your house now, Bella. And I trust you completely with it."

"Can we at least agree that it's our house? You never gave it up, but I did buy it."

"Very well," he conceded with a grateful smile. "Our house. And…I would like to tell you where the stash of cash is to assist in the restoration-"

"I don't want to know where it is, Edward," I snapped, leveling him with a glare that was admittedly for much more than that suggestion. "As far as I'm concerned, that's blood money. Someone murdered you for it, and I don't want it."

He pursed his lips. "I was going to say that I know you're against it. So, unless you ask, I'll keep that to myself."

Now, it was my turn to rake a hand through my hair. Edward watched me, furrowing his brow.

"Uhm, okay." I sat back down, though I remained facing him. "So…should we pick up where we left off – with the book, I mean?"

In reply, Edward levitated my laptop and carefully returned it to my desk. Then, with purposeful, human steps, he returned to the sofa and took a seat. The entire time, our gazes remained locked.

We sighed at the same time, smiling mutually wistful smiles.

"Of course, Bella," he breathed. "Of course."

A/N: Thoughts?

So, they agreed to distance. What are the chances they can keep that up? Stay tuned!

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