Chapter 20

The sun was already warm this morning, but the breeze still cool on their skin. Edward admired the way Bella’s hair bounced softly in time with her gait as she led the way across the street to the park. She could feel his eyes on her, and she glanced back in time to catch his gaze wandering south. The resulting goose bumps that raced up her arms and down her back had nothing to do with the crisp air. When Edward caught up to her and placed a hand lightly on her tailbone, the tingles only spread and intensified.

“Are you cold?” His voice was anxious. “You can have my shirt.”

“No, I’m fine,” she assured him, stopping him short from removing the garment. She frowned when she realized she’d just blown a good opportunity to admire his body in only that thin, v-necked t-shirt.

As they passed the sandbox, Edward glanced at the boy and girl who still inhabited it, diligently building their castle with the aid of several plastic buckets and bits of tree branches.

“We need to make lots of windows for the princess to let her long hair down, so the prince can rescue her,” the girl said, carving niches in the side of what was apparently supposed to be a turret.

“And I’ll build a bridge over the moat so he has something to stand on while he fights off the fire-breathing dragons,” the boy added with relish, laying bundles of twigs over the deep ravine he’d carved at the base of their abode.

Bella chuckled at the children’s conversation as she and Edward walked on. “How cute is that? But he sounded way more interested in slaying dragons than actually rescuing the princess. Typical.”

“Maybe the male species is hardwired to crave a few challenges on the way to claiming the prize,” Edward suggested.

“Yeah? Well, I hope the female species isn’t hardwired to just sit around watching our hair grow, hoping that some prince will come along and save us from our boring existence. I’d like to think we’ve evolved a bit more than that.”

“You definitely have,” he agreed. “It’s us guys who are having trouble catching up. We’re not sure how to impress you if you have no use for our heroics anymore.”

Bella let out a laugh that sounded like music to him. “Well, lucky for you, we haven’t evolved that much. I’m pretty sure we still have a weak spot for a guy who’s willing to slay a dragon or two for us.”

He walked ahead of her as they neared the swing-set, then turned and backed slowly toward it, facing her. “So a guy who fights for what he wants is still sexy, then?”

Dear God. Bella wished she could pull out her phone and capture the way he was he was grinning down at her - the very picture of “sexy.” His big blue-green eyes were so sure and yet questioning at the same time that she wanted to throw herself on him and cover him with kisses until any trace of uncertainty had vanished.

“The sexiest,” she answered without hesitation.

His face relaxed into a cocky grin. “Too bad there are no dragons standing between us and these swings, then. I’d have you swooning by the time I cleared the way for us to sit on them.”

Dear. GOD. She really was nearly praying this time, for strength. And continued consciousness. Because if anyone could actually make her swoon, it was the smirk-a-licious man smirking down at her right now.

“Well, in the absence of any monsters standing between us, I’m afraid you’ll have to impress me some other way,” she challenged, edging closer to him, lifting her chin.

Sweet Jesus. It was Edward’s turn to appeal to a higher power. He’d thrown down the gauntlet, but she’d picked it up and tossed it right back at him. And that, to him, was the sexiest thing in the world.

He drew closer to her, his head dropping, one hand reaching around to the small of her back, the other closing gently around her chin. Their eyes locked, lips parted, breath caught. The longing between them was palpable. . . irresistible.

Which was exactly why Edward chose to resist it. When Bella’s eyes fluttered closed in preparation for his kiss, he spoke instead.

“Then I’ll just have to see how far I can push you,” he murmured, his lips brushing lightly against hers as he formed the words.

Her eyes fluttered back open, then narrowed in confusion.

“On the swings,” Edward clarified, giving her an angelic smile instead of a kiss.

With Herculean effort, he freed her from his embrace, took a step back and lifted one arm toward the swing-set behind them in invitation.

“Ladies first,” he insisted sweetly.

Bella’s mouth dropped open in disbelief before pressing closed in a bemused scowl. The self-satisfied smirk on Edward’s face now had a very different effect on her than it had a moment ago. She wished she had longer fingernails so she could scratch it off.

“You think you’re cute, don’t you?” she demanded, irritated that he was, in fact, annoyingly adorable at that moment.

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I’m only interested in your thoughts on the matter.”

“Oh, you’re cute, all right. Too cute for your own good.” She ignored his shit-eating grin and marched past him toward the middle swing, tossing her backpack aside before plopping her butt down on the sturdy slate-gray seat. The swing was an old-fashioned affair, suspended from a heavy metal base by long, thick, rusted chains. She grabbed one in each hand and gazed up at the support bar far above her head.

“This is an awesome swing-set,” she proclaimed. “This sucker will go really high.”

“That sounds like a challenge if I ever heard one,” Edward answered as he approached. He positioned himself behind her and grasped the swing’s seat on either side of Bella’s perfect posterior, easily pulling it with him as he took a few steps backward. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

She gripped the chains tightly and lifted her feet just in time for him to give the swing a hearty shove. She squealed a little as she flew forward, her hair billowing behind her like a superhero’s cape before blowing in her face when she flew right back to Edward’s waiting arms.

He easily caught the heavy seat of the swing in time to heft it forward again, and he laughed along with her as she took off. He tried to remember the last time he had pushed someone on a swing. He figured it must have been Alice, years ago, when she was little. But they never came here to play. Em never brought them back to this park. She had always taken them to places where they could make new memories instead of reliving the old.

But now he was beginning to think that his grandmother had it all wrong. As Edward propelled Bella higher and higher, making her laugh and whoop like a child again, he caught a strange sense of hope that he hadn’t felt in years. Joy was swiftly replacing the melancholy that usually seized him when he stared across the street at his childhood haunt through the haze of Mott’s grease-tinted windows. Bella had breathed new life into this place. It filled his lungs so full that he gave her an enormous push before expelling it with a loud laugh back into the summer air.

She shrieked and hung onto the chains for dear life as the swing rushed forward and soared into the sky. She flew so high that her butt left the seat and she hung, suspended in mid-air, for an agonizing second before slamming back down on the heavy plastic and taking the inevitable journey back to Edward.

“You almost knocked me off!” she cried as she plummeted backward.

“Sorry,” he called, cringing and bracing his hands to slow the contraption down rather than rocket her into the stratosphere again. “I got carried away.”

As she swung away from him, she leaned back, letting her head dangle upside down so that her long hair brushed the sandy ground below. “I forgive you. It was kind of fun.” She grinned over her shoulder as she swung back to him. “Scary, but fun.”

She had the feeling that she had just summed up their budding relationship, if that’s what it was, in three words.

Edward fell silent, watching her arc away from him and back again, over and over, in a repetitive cadence that became more disturbing the longer it went on. He found himself inwardly chanting come back each time she glided out of his grasp, and wanting to grab the swing to keep her with him each time she returned.

When she finally broke the silence, her voice was a welcome panacea. “Just so you know, you’re not the only one who was paying attention last weekend,” she began as he gave her another gentle push. She waited until she’d drifted back to him before she continued. “Your favorite color is burgundy,” - swing, return - “your favorite food is Italian,” - swing, return - “and you like playing classical music,” - swing, return - “but you love listening to the blues.”

He was done letting her escape then. He moved around to face her and stop her forward momentum, grabbing the heavy chains on either side to slow them down. She grinned up at his efforts and continued.

“You run your fingers through your hair when you’re nervous, and your nostrils flair in this really sexy way when you get mad. . . or you’re about to come.”

He grunted as he forced the swing to a standstill and stared down at her, his insides twisting in that way they did every time she confronted him with that blunt honesty.

“I’m guessing you have at least a dozen moles and freckles all over your torso, but it was too dark in the hotel bedroom for me to count them. They make me want to play connect-the-dots on your body, starting with the ones on your back. I’d trace them up to the little ones on your neck, and then down to this big one, right here, on your stomach.” She put her hand over his t-shirt and felt for the slight protrusion in the place she remembered.

“So you have a mole fetish,” Edward accused with the quirk of an eyebrow. “Kinky.”

“Only for you. You make moles sexy.” She couldn’t stop rubbing her hand over the soft cotton covering his belly. She wanted to pull it up and put her lips to his skin - taste that dark beauty mark, trace that trail of hair that led to the growing bulge in his faded pants. “You make everything sexy,” she concluded with a sigh. “It’s kind of annoying.”

He emitted a soft snort at that. His blood was percolating nicely now, warm and bubbling under his skin, making his dick throb and swell. Her eyes fell to glance at it tenting the fabric of his pants, and the tiny grin that stole over her face made him want to groan out loud in frustration.

“I lied last weekend when I told you I didn’t know what my favorite music was,” she said, gazing upward again as he bowed his head closer to hers. “It’s the sound of your voice. The tone. . . it’s like honey, or molasses. I can’t explain it.” She deliberated a moment, then finally admitted, “It’s the reason I left my earring in your overnight bag.”

Edward’s eyebrows reached for his hairline. “What? Are you telling me you planted that earring in my travel case?”

“Not exactly,” she hedged. “I really did find it in the side pocket after we ran into each other. But when I heard you talking on the phone in the other room, I couldn’t stand the thought of never hearing your voice again. And then I left my earring where it landed, so I’d have an excuse to see you again.”

The grin that stretched over Edward’s face felt like it was touching his earlobes.

“What’s that saying about great minds?”

“’Great minds trick alike,’ I think,” Bella joked.

“Well, I like that kind of trick. More of a treat, I’d say. Which reminds me. . .” He reached into the right front pocket of his jeans and procured a small jewelry box, then dropped dramatically to one knee before her.

“What are you doing?” she exclaimed as he held out his hand, offering her what resembled a tiny antique pill box encrusted with multi-colored jewels. She stared at it for an awkward moment, not understanding the gesture - a gesture that resembled a proposal far too closely for comfort.

“Come on, take it,” Edward urged with that irresistible smirk.

She reached out one wary hand to lift the miniature jewelry box from his palm, then gingerly opened it. There, nestled in a cushion of wine-colored velvet, was her missing diamond-and-pearl earring.

She exhaled in relief, and it almost sounded like a laugh. “Thanks. My grandma would kill me if I lost this.” She closed the hinged lid of the box and examined its exquisite inlaid gems - probably costume jewels, but definitely vintage and worth some money. “This is beautiful. It looks like a family heirloom itself. I can’t accept this.”

“Yes, you can.” He put his other knee to the ground to steady himself, then curled his hand around hers and watched the sun refract off of the rhinestones she held. “This was my grandmother’s. She has no use for it anymore. I thought you should have a special place to keep your grandmother’s earrings, so you don’t lose them. Of course, I didn’t know you were throwing them into strangers’ bags on purpose,” he added with a chuckle.

“You weren’t a stranger to me,” she corrected him with a meaningful look. Then she stared at the jewelry box once more, a film of tears forming at the significance of Edward’s gift. “This was Emily’s?”

He nodded, his own eyes threatening to tear up at the sight of hers. He looked down and closed her fingers around the box. “It’s yours now.”

She reached her free hand up to touch his face, willing him to look at her. “I’ll cherish it,” she promised. “Thank you.”

She lowered her face; he raised his. Their eyes caressed long before their lips did. When their mouths finally met, they both sighed at the contact and reveled in warm, shared breath before their lips resumed the caress.

“Ew, they’re kissing!” A young boy’s sounds of distaste wafted on the breeze to Edward’s and Bella’s ears, making them reluctantly break apart with a chuckle.

“Shut up, it’s romantic,” came a little girl’s retort. The couple on the swing glanced over at their much younger counterparts in the sandbox, which prompted the girl to hiss, “They heard you, stupid!”

“You’re stupid!” he shot back. “Kissing is stupid.”

The boy and girl were still arguing as Edward and Bella turned amused faces back to one another. “I told you he was all about the dragons,” she said with a knowing look.

Edward grinned and pulled her close to him again. “Give him a little time. He hasn’t realized yet that she’s already got him wrapped around her little finger.”

Bella reached for his face again, rubbing her thumb over the seeds of stubble sprouting around his lips. “So you think she’s got him whipped already?”

His grin spread wider. “He doesn’t stand a chance.”

She was grinning herself, giddily, happily. It was easy to pretend she was the only one in Edward’s world when he held her close like this. Easy to forget anyone or anything else existed.

Edward felt it, too, and it made him begin to ache inside. What would happen once they left this park? In only a few short minutes, it had once again become a source of bittersweet emotion for him. The world outside was about to pull him away from it, and from her.

He lifted his hands to her face, letting them take their fill of her soft skin. He sighed and focused sober eyes on hers.

“What are we doing here, Bella?”

She knew he didn’t mean the park, or the swing-set. Still, she answered, “Swinging.”

He couldn’t even snicker at the sexual implications, considering what he did for a living.

“That can be pretty dangerous,” he reminded her. “I almost pushed you too far.”

“Maybe I’m not into playing it safe.” Her attempt at bravado fell a little flat.

Their hands held each other’s faces, and they remained nose to nose, willing captives.

“It’s against the rules for me to see a client outside of work, you know,” he reminded her. “Of course, I know what you think of rules in general.”

She gave him a half-smile. “Fuck ‘em,” she said, and then kissed him again. He kissed her back, and it quickly bordered on dark and desperate despite the summer sun filtering through the trees above.

When they broke apart for air, she added, “How would Rosalie know, anyway? Did she have a chip implanted in your scalp so she can track you?”

“Not yet,” he replied, his quick grin fading. “I’m being serious here. This situation - it’s impossible. It’s. . . beneath you. I won’t ask you to - I can’t let you - get involved with me.” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth, and his lip twitched from the effort of spitting them out.

She gaped at him, brows knitted into a mask of disbelief. Her stomach churned with now-familiar panic at the thought of him walking away. One hand tightened around the jewelry box while the other gripped the hard edge of his jaw more firmly.

“You can’t let me?” she repeated, defiant tears pricking her eyes once more. “You don’t get to make that decision for me. I see whoever I like, whenever I like. I’m a big girl, Edward, whether you think so or not.”

“Not big enough to handle the reality of my life,” he argued with a shake of his head.

Bella ignored the grain of truth to his words and took a different tack. “You said that our time together meant something to you. We planted personal items with each other just so we’d have an excuse to see each other again. How can you walk away from that?” she entreated. Pain flashed through his eyes, and she latched onto it like a barnacle to the side of a sinking ship. “Maybe I won’t let you walk away. Maybe I can’t.”

Pain twisted his entire face now, his eyes pleading with hers. “Think about what you’re saying. Do you really think you can ignore what I do for a living? Honestly?”

Her lip trembled slightly and she clamped down on it with her teeth. “Honestly? I don’t know. A week ago I would have said, ‘Hell, no.’ Never in a million years when I hired you did I think I’d want to see you again. I mean, that was the whole point - we were supposed to be a one-time thing. But you were so different from how I thought you’d be. I never counted on that. I never counted on actually feeling something for you.”

His eyes reflected her own futile desire, and her hand slid around his neck to possess him, her fingers twisting and gripping the thick, short hair at his nape. “Once wasn’t enough,” she whispered. “I want more.”

And his mouth was on hers again, fierce and hungry and wanting; and she thrilled to the wanting, because it matched her own. His fingers wound in her hair as she clawed at his scalp, and her tongue tasted and swirled inside him, inviting him to do the same.

He groaned as he accepted the invitation. He thought vaguely that he should stop, because they were giving the sandbox children more of an education than they really needed right now; and because he couldn’t afford to want her a second time, and a third, and a hundredth.

But his hands weren’t listening to his brain. They skimmed over Bella’s shoulders and down her back, then grabbed her hips to pull her, and the swing, closer. Her legs parted like the sea so that her torso could meet his, and the contact made them sigh and clutch and kiss more fervently, until they heard a much different sound from the distant sandbox.

“Whoa!” The boy was definitely more interested in this display of affection. It sounded as if he might be changing his stance on the act of kissing. A slightly dazed and embarrassed Edward and Bella pulled away from each other then.

“Shit,” Edward mumbled, his hands grasping her face, stroking and yet holding her at a distance. “This is crazy, what you do to me.”

She tried to shake her head against the warm grip of his hands. “Not crazy. We found each other for a reason. I know it.” Her voice brimmed with determination. “I don’t know how this is going to work any better than you do. I’m just asking you not to close the door on us.”

Edward shook his own head, amazed at her volition. “Bella, you’re about to start classes next week. You’ll be busy with schoolwork, your job, dorm parties. . .” he trailed off as she grimaced. “You should be soaking up the whole college experience right now. Getting an education, growing up, having fun. Not wasting time on a guy who can’t do relationships.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” she asked pointedly. “What happened to that guy who just asked me if it was sexy to fight for what he wants?”

He flinched slightly. “Maybe he realized it’s a losing proposition for the girl he claims to be fighting for.”

“But you don’t know that. Things could change. You could -” Could what? Give up being an escort for me, was what she wanted to say. But how did she have any right to make that kind of demand? They’d only known each other a week. Neither of them had expected this to happen. It dawned on her that she was probably an unwelcome distraction in his life, and he might be trying to nip this in the bud before it got any more complicated.

She closed her eyes and exhaled, then opened them again. “I can’t promise you that I’m okay with our situation. I only know that I’m not okay with you disappearing on me. I just want to see you again. Talk to you. Text, email, whatever. Just don’t say good-bye.”

He stared at her plaintive expression and felt himself crumbling inside. He combed his hands gently through her tangled hair before letting them rest on her shoulders.

“I don’t think I could say good-bye to you if I wanted to.”

Her smile was small, but the victory felt huge. She didn’t know why, because she had no idea exactly what she’d won.

Edward grabbed the swing-set chains and began to pull himself upright, pausing to give Bella a gentle kiss on the forehead before standing and offering her his outstretched palm. “You have to go to work soon, right?”

She nodded in disappointment and took his hand, letting him help her up. They paused so she could retrieve her backpack, then walked hand in hand across the grass, past the tittering sandbox children, until they reached the street. Edward could see the unmistakable shape of her vintage truck down the block, and he led her in that direction, his fingers linked between hers.

They walked in silence, listening to the traffic on one side and birds chirping on the other. He let go of her hand only long enough for her to find her keys and open the truck door, then took it again in order to help her into the ancient iron cab. After she was seated, he looked down at her white hand, so small in his, and rubbed his thumb thoughtfully across her knuckles.

“I spent this whole week looking forward to the next time I’d see you,” he told her quietly, still staring at their hands entwined. “That doesn’t happen to me. Whatever this is between us - it doesn’t happen to me.”

He slowly raised his eyes to hers, uncertain sea to unwavering earth. “But it is happening. And I don’t know what to do about it. Part of me doesn’t want it. It would be so much easier if I didn’t. But the rest of me has never wanted anything so much in my life.”

He gazed into the dark depths of her expectant eyes, warm and waiting. Waiting for him to man up, to give her what she deserved. But when he opened his mouth again, he gave her only what he could afford.

“I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep. I don’t know where any of this can go, or what I could possibly have to offer you. But I can promise you that I won’t say good-bye.”

Cheap, he muttered darkly to himself. You can’t afford much for such a well-paid bastard, can you?

But Bella smiled as though he’d just handed her the world on a silver platter, and he couldn’t begin to fathom why. She leaned up toward him to receive his kiss, and he was only too willing to bestow it. He let go of her hand so he could capture her face instead, stroking her soft skin in accompaniment as he tasted her sweet mouth.

He pulled back, sighing in reluctance, but noting her own disappointed pout with satisfaction.

“I will see you again soon,” he told her emphatically, avoiding the horrible cliché, I’ll call you.

She only nodded and gave him that knowing grin of hers before she started the rumbling motor of the truck. He shut the door with a secure slam, but she rolled down the window a minute later.

“See you, Edward.” Her smile was that of the cat who ate the canary, just like last week.

Sputtering and wheezing, the truck changed gears, then trundled down the street with its precious cargo at the wheel. After the red monster was out of sight, Edward turned and walked back to his own sleek and silent vehicle. He unlocked it and fell unceremoniously into the low driver’s seat, then grunted in annoyance. The day planner he’d shoved in his back pocket was being smashed firmly into his right ass cheek by the leather bucket seat. He reached back and dug the appointment book out of his jeans, then flipped through it quickly out of habit, glancing inside the back cover to make sure his keepsake was still tucked securely there.

Except that it wasn’t.

It wasn’t there.

He stared at the empty black pocket for a moment, uncomprehending. Then he pulled the leather flap open, peering at its interior in case his lucky charm had somehow been squashed, accordion-like, into the corner.

But it wasn’t.

He flipped to the front, thinking that perhaps Bella had pulled it out to look at it, and then returned it to the wrong place. He found nothing but his lonely pen, tucked into another empty pocket of darkness.

He shook the book then, willing the fragile remembrance of his mother to magically appear, to slip out of the pages and flutter to his lap like a butterfly released from a cocoon. But it was no use.

Edward’s good luck charm was gone.







　

　

Chapter 19

“Emily?”

Edward echoed Bella’s last word in stunned surprise. His brow furrowed for a moment as he tried to understand where that question came from.

“Your standing Thursday appointment,” she clarified, faltering a bit. “You said none of the women in that planner mean anything to you, but I don’t believe that. She’s the person you spend every Thursday with, no matter what. So obviously, she’s important to you, in some way. . .”

She trailed off, beginning to feel embarrassed, as if she’d overstepped. She felt even worse when she heard Edward’s reply.

“She is important. She means the world to me.”

Bella’s heart stuttered and flopped helplessly in her chest. “I see,” she managed to choke out, then reached for her coffee cup to take a drink.

Edward observed her with interest. Patches of pink mottled her cheeks, and her eyes reminded him of a wounded fawn’s. He felt a horribly perverse sense of satisfaction as he viewed the evidence that his feelings for her were reciprocated, even though she hadn’t spouted them in a fountain of word vomit like he just had. He marveled that she had somehow managed to gloss over the bevy of women he may or may not have bedded, and zeroed in on the one who existed entirely outside of that world. Could it be that ultimately she didn’t care where his dick had been, and was only concerned about who held his heart?

“You don’t think Emily is one of my clients, do you?” he asked.

Bella was startled at Edward’s tone. It sounded almost. . . amused.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. She’s the only one you see every week without fail, so I just assumed that she’s someone special to you.” Her face screwed up in consternation and she had trouble looking him in the eye. “I’m sorry, I never should have snooped in your appointment book like that. I’m a nosy bitch. It’s none of my business who you spend your time with, for work or otherwise.”

She hid behind her coffee cup again, taking another generous sip. She glanced over its edge at Edward with trepidation, and saw a tiny grin twisting his lips. He was amused. What the hell?

“I’m the one who put the damned book in your handbag to begin with, so I certainly can’t blame you for reading it. I hung myself in my own noose with that move.”

He had no time to elaborate further, because Lydia was heading their way with two large matching platters of omelets, bacon, hash browns and toast. He thanked the waitress politely after she served their food, while Bella unfolded her napkin in her lap and stared at the breakfast before her. It smelled delicious, but her appetite was lost in nervous apprehension. Still, she was glad for the diversion from their uncomfortable conversation, so she readily began picking at her food.

Edward took a healthy bite of egg-wrapped ham, veggies and cheese - damn, Mott’s still made the best omelet he’d ever tasted. As he chewed, he watched Bella listlessly lift a tiny bit of egg to her mouth. Even though he was still guiltily enjoying her jealousy, he decided he really should put her out of her misery.

“Emily is not one of my customers,” he informed her. He waited until Bella’s eyes jumped up to meet his before he continued. “She’s my grandmother.”

He paused to see if a look of relief would relax her features. When it did, he continued.

“I visit her every Thursday at Tranquility Gardens, which is just another fancy name for one of those places that masquerades as a picturesque retirement residence when it’s really just a glorified nursing home.”

Bella’s bit of egg got stuck in her throat for a second before she swallowed it down. “Edward’s granny” had been her number one hope for the identity of the mystery woman in his planner, but she certainly hadn’t wished for the circumstances to be what they were.

“Is she ill?” Bella felt stupid as soon as she asked. Obviously she wasn’t in good health, or she wouldn’t be in long-term care.

Edward nodded and turned his attention back to his food, unable to elaborate. He could never seem to talk about the insidious dementia that stole a little more of the woman he loved every day.

“I’m sorry,” Bella mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

Edward sawed at his omelet with unnecessary vigor. “Yeah, me too,” he said quietly before lifting the loaded fork to his mouth.

She continued to work at her own breakfast, even though the revelation about Emily had done anything but whet her appetite. She felt like she should say something else, but she wasn’t sure what.

“It’s nice that you go see her every week,” she offered at last.

Edward’s smile was wry. “My cousin and I are all she has,” was his brief reply before changing the subject. “How’s your breakfast, by the way? The omelets here are my favorites.”

Bella gave him a weak smile. “It’s delicious.”

“You don’t seem to be enjoying it very much,” he said reprovingly.

“I guess I’m not that hungry this morning. But it really is good, honestly.”

They ate in silence for a few moments, both remembering the tension of their last dinner together. Edward wondered how he would navigate the minefield of questions that were sure to follow his disclosure. And Bella’s mind was awhirl with them, now that Emily’s identity had been revealed. Chief among them was, Where are Edward’s parents? If he and a solitary cousin were all Emily had left in the world, then something must have happened to the rest of his family.

Something awful.

And if that were true, then that meant Edward had probably taken responsibility for Emily’s care. Suddenly the portrait of Edward Cullen became startlingly, depressingly clear: not only had he most likely suffered the untimely loss of his parents, he had become an escort so he could pay for his grandmother’s housing and medical bills. And perhaps he was the caretaker for his cousin as well.

Edward glanced up at Bella and grew sick inside at her expression. He knew it all too well. It was the reason he didn’t talk about himself, his life or his choices. He couldn’t take the inevitable reaction.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he ordered gruffly.

“Like what?” she exclaimed in surprise.

“Like you feel sorry for me. I don’t want or need your pity.”

“I didn’t mean to. . .” she trailed off, not sure what she did mean. She hadn’t realized she was looking at him that way, but how could she not? His situation was pitiable.

“Well, I’m sorry, but if you’re telling me what I think you are, it explains so much about you that I didn’t understand,” she blurted. “It’s been driving me crazy not knowing why you’re an escort when you could be so much more. When you want to be so much more. I mean, a lot of guys would consider getting paid to be a total player the ultimate dream job, but you’re not one of them.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, wondering how she’d been able to make a judgment call about his morality so quickly. And accurately.

“At least it makes sense to me now,” she continued. “You’re paying for your grandmother’s long-term care, and God knows what other kinds of bills she might have left behind when she got sick. Am I right?”

Edward didn’t know whether he was annoyed or relieved that she had figured everything out, for the most part. At least it spared him from going into further details.

“Excellent detective work, Miss Swan,” he commended her. “But if you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about this any more. It is what it is. Shit happens. People deal with it the best way they know how.”

The subject was obviously closed as far as Edward was concerned, but Bella couldn’t help but push her luck with one last supposition. “So I’m guessing that being an escort pays a lot more than being a concert pianist?”

His answering smile was stiff. “Unless you’re some kind of child prodigy or wunderkind who would draw huge, high-paying audiences, then you’re looking at about the same salary as a teacher would get. And I was fine with that until -” he cut himself off, lips pursing together, before he continued. “Until I needed a lot more money than that to make ends meet. End of story.”

Bella nodded and fell silent. She bowed her head over the remainder of her breakfast and set about finishing it, though her stomach felt like a lead balloon. Her heart ached for Edward, and a little for herself. Instead of being relieved at the explanation of his choices, she was only more anxious. On one hand, the reasons behind his line of work were much more understandable, perhaps even excusable. But on the other, she realized that those reasons were also nonnegotiable. Edward obviously took his responsibilities seriously and would not be swayed from meeting them. He would not be giving up the escort business as long as it allowed him to care for the only family he had left.

No matter how much their brief time together meant to Edward Cullen, if she were to issue him an ultimatum - his job, or her - she would lose.

She knew what the smart thing to do would be. She should walk away right now, before she got in any deeper. If she had entertained any hopes that he might give up the business for her, they were now dashed. She would have to take him as is, or leave him.

She gazed at him now, head bent over his plate, making quick work of his hash browns like they might run off with the bacon if he didn’t dispose of them both at once. His brows were pulled unhappily together and his eyelashes cast feathery shadows on his cheeks where the sunlight slanted across them. His impossibly pink lips made various silly-putty shapes in an effort to stay closed over his teeth as he masticated his food. She felt the same panic wash over her now as she had in the hotel bathroom last weekend, listening to his voice in the next room: she was horrified that this might be the last time she’d experience it.

As if reading her mind, he suddenly looked up at her, stopped chewing and swallowed. Their eyes began one of those silent exchanges that made her heart stop and her nerves spring to life. As she read the pain and uncertainty she saw there, Bella wasn’t sure she cared about doing the smart thing anymore. What she was considering might, in fact, be the dumbest thing she’d ever do. All she knew was that she couldn’t say good-bye to Edward Cullen. Not yet.

“I’m sorry if I was short with you,” he apologized, his voice as warm as the butter that had melted over her half-eaten toast. “I told you that you were important to me, and then acted offended when you needed something from me in return. It’s just hard for me to talk about certain things. And when I do, it usually throws a very effective wet blanket over what might have been a nice time.”

“Don’t apologize. I promised you last weekend that I wouldn’t push you about your personal life, but I keep doing it. It’s my fault,” Bella insisted.

He disagreed with a shake of his head. “You’ve been nothing but open and honest with me from the beginning. You deserve the same in return. You’ve been pretty patient with me, all things considered.”

“I think you forget how patient you were with me last weekend. I’ll try harder to return the favor.”

They were giving each other a reciprocal “you’re too good to be true” look when Lydia returned to their table, coffee pot in one hand and bill pad in the other. Edward looked to Bella for approval before waving away the coffee and asking for the check instead.

Bella glanced at her watch, then out the window at the uncharacteristically sunny weather. “We can still have a nice time, you know,” she encouraged Edward after the waitress left them. “I don’t have to go to work for another half-hour. Why don’t we go hang out in that little park across the street? I’ll let you push me on the swings.”

A strange look darkened his features for a moment, then quickly passed. “You’ll let me push you, huh?” he teased, that irresistible half-grin of his taking over. “I like that spin. I’ll consider it a privilege, then.”

“As you should,” she teased back. “Maybe if I get lucky, you’ll let me push you, too.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure luck is on your side, Miss Swan.” He was still grinning as he pulled out his wallet and threw a wad of cash on the table. Bella reached for her backpack to pay her fair share, but when she caught Edward’s resulting glare, she stopped short.

“I can pay for my own breakfast, you know,” she said crossly.

“I’m sure you can. But you’re not going to.”

His tone was decisive, even imperious. She found it oddly hot.

“What’s this ‘Miss Swan’ stuff, anyway? Aren’t we past the formal stage now?”

His grin became positively wicked. “I mean it only as a term of the utmost respect. But if you’d like me to be less respectful, I’m sure I can come up with something.”

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. “’Bella’ will work just fine.”

“All right.” He chuckled as he rose from his bench seat. “Are you ready to go, Bella?”

“Absolutely, Mister Cullen,” she replied smoothly, grabbing her backpack and getting up from the table to join him.

His answering laugh was loud and genuine. Damn if she didn’t give as good as she got. He hesitantly reached for her hand, but she didn’t see the gesture - she was already ahead of him, making a beeline for the door. He had the feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d be following her lead.

And he found that he rather liked it.

　

Chapter 18

Edward arrived at Mott’s Coffee Shop on Friday morning at 9:37 a.m. He scanned the room briefly on the off chance that Bella was actually early, then headed straight for his regular booth and ordered the usual.

More accurately, Lydia, the waitress, brought him his cup of straight Columbian and pot of creamer before he ever asked for them. As always, she inquired if he wanted to order breakfast, because she was never sure what the answer would be.

“Not yet. I’m waiting for someone. But you can bring us menus when she arrives,” he said this time.

Lydia didn’t bother to mask her surprise. The handsome young man with the unruly bronze hair never met anyone here. In fact, she was quite sure he’d been alone every time she’d served him. She knew this because that fact had nearly encouraged her to work up the nerve to ask him something a little more personal than, “How would you like your eggs?” But apparently she had waited too long to make her move.

She smiled regretfully and told him, “Sure thing,” before leaving him to stare out the window like always.

Edward liked the view from Mott’s, because it was across the street from a small park. He could watch the children playing and remember when he was one of them, being pushed in the swing by Mom, or encouraged to plummet down the old curly-cue slide by Dad waiting at the bottom. He liked how it felt when they were there to catch him.

He doctored his coffee with a dollop of cream and sugar while he mused over why he’d had his recurring childhood dream last night. He hadn’t had it in awhile. But early this morning, his subconscious found him sitting in Grandma’s back yard again, poring over the clover patch in search of that elusive four-leafed specimen.

“You’ll find one if you look hard enough,” he heard his mother say, her voice clear as a bell. His dream vision of Elizabeth Masen was just as clear, frozen eternally in youth, her honey hair and blue eyes rendering her a goddess in her young son’s eyes.

“I’ve been looking forever,” Edward heard himself complain in a pre-puberty whine. “I’ll never find one.”

“It only feels like forever,” she replied. “You’ve only been searching for a few minutes. Remember the poem I taught you?”

Edward nodded and recited the last couple of lines: “’If you work, and you wait, you will find the place where the four-leaf clovers grow.’”

“That’s right,” his mother said, beaming. “You just have to have patience, and luck will find you.”

“But what if Grandma’s back yard isn’t the right place? The poem says we have to find a nook, with gold and cherries and stuff.”

His mother laughed at his childish misinterpretation of the verse, and it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. “You’re taking the poem too literally, Edward. All it means is that luck is yours wherever you find faith, hope and love. And that is most definitely here in Grandma’s back yard.”

His mother then diligently searched alongside him, until she finally suggested, “Why don’t you try looking over here, Edward?”

She pointed out a particular spot in the clover patch, and he eagerly pounced on it, nose to the ground. Years later he realized that she had already found a four-leafed version and was merely guiding him in the right direction. But at the age of six, he was filled with pride and excitement when, moments later, he found the magic clover all on his own.

“Look, Mom! It’s here! It was really here all along!” he exclaimed, carefully plucking it from the grass and holding it up in exultation. “It’s a big one, too!”

“It sure is, honey!” His mother gasped right along with him. “Look how lucky you are!”

“We gotta go show dad,” Edward announced, jumping up from the ground and sprinting toward the house, calling his father’s name.

But the house got further and further away the harder he ran toward it, disappearing in a gray haze. His feet began to feel like they were made of wet clay, sticking to the earth and creating a heavy muck that held him in place. He was soon stuck, with neither of his parents in sight, clutching the clover in frustration; and then he began to cry.
His eyes were wet with a child’s tears when he awoke.

He hated having that dream. As wonderful as it was to feel his mother close to him, the image of her was so real that he felt the pain of losing her all over again when consciousness inevitably had its way with him.

He shook his head now, as if to clear the cobwebs of memories from his brain. There was no point in dwelling on the past, especially when the present had taken such an interesting turn. He was itching to see Bella again, even though he had no idea what would come of their reunion. If nothing else, he would have his planner -- and the good-luck charm inside it -- back in his possession.

He realized then why he’d had the dream, and let out a relieved sigh. He decided that it had been a truly bone-headed move on his part to leave his appointment book with Bella. Not just because of the memento he kept inside it, but because she had most likely looked through his schedule and been appalled at what she found there. Not only would she be accosted by the names of his numerous dates, but also his notes about each of them in the back. What the hell had he been thinking?

He hadn’t been thinking at all, obviously. Or maybe he’d subconsciously done it on purpose to sabotage his chances with her. He was a fool if he thought she could ever look past his occupation and want him regardless, for who he really was. Or used to be. Maybe that guy didn’t even exist anymore. Maybe all that was left was a soulless automaton who smiled and flattered and seduced, then conveniently forgot.

But he couldn’t forget Bella. He didn’t want to.

As he waited for her arrival, he idly wondered if Alice was on to him. He usually ate breakfast at home on Fridays, so his failure to make her favorite blueberry pancakes today brought a scowl of suspicion to her face.

“You don’t really have a breakfast date, do you?” she asked, her lip curling in that strange mixture of distaste, sympathy and guilt that the subject of his vocation always inspired.

“I’m meeting a friend,” he’d replied noncommittally.

“You don’t have any friends,” she reminded him with a twinge of sadness. “Well, not since Emmett moved in with Rosalie, anyway.”

He’d distanced himself from the handful of pals who were still in Seattle when he returned a couple of years ago. The fewer people he had to explain himself to, the better. He had no time to nurture friendships anyway, since most evenings and weekends found him working.

“You’re right, I don’t,” he replied evenly. “But maybe it’s time I changed that.”

Alice’s eyebrows raised in curiosity as he leaned down and gave her a peck on the cheek. “You should try to make your own pancakes for a change. How are you ever gonna land a husband with your cooking skills?” he teased.

“The Dark Ages are long gone, dear cousin,” she reminded him with a sniff. “I have other ways of luring men than with my culinary skills.”

“Or lack thereof.”

“I have Cullen-ary skills instead,” she crowed, putting emphasis on her last name with relish. “Get it?”

“I get it,” Edward replied with a slight roll of his eyes. “Clever. But whatever skills you may have with the opposite sex, I really don’t want to know about them.”

Alice’s grin smacked of faux innocence as she circled her index finger above her head in the shape of a halo. “I’m only eighteen. I have no idea what you’re talking about. I have no skills. Only imagination.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way for awhile longer, shall we?”

“I don’t know why you get to have all the fun,” she grumbled.

“Alice.” His voice was cutting, and she cringed. She knew better than to joke about his job. She raised guilty eyes to his in a silent apology. His forgiveness was implied as well. He could never be angry with her for long, and she knew it. Grudges against one another were a luxury neither of them could afford.

“Do you have to work tonight?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah, ‘til closing. You want me to bring you any leftovers?”

“Only if they have that lasagna that I love,” Edward replied with a grin, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter while Alice rummaged through the cupboard for dry cereal.

“I think Sophia makes extra on purpose just so I’ll bring you some,” Alice informed him, pulling out a box of raisin bran. “She’s dying to go out with you, you know. But she says she can’t afford you.”

Edward ignored her comment and checked his wallet to make sure he had some cash.

“You could go on a normal date for once,” she continued. “Sophia’s cute, and she seems willing to overlook your line of work.”

“’Seems’ being the operative word there,” he scoffed, shoving his wallet in his back pocket.

“She would overlook it! She realizes this is just temporary. She knows like I do that you’re going to be a great concert pianist one day,” she asserted with confidence.

“Well, the two of you may be waiting for a very long time if you expect that to happen,” Edward replied gruffly before changing the subject. “Don’t forget to lock up when you leave. And make sure you don’t leave the curling iron plugged in or the stove on,” he finished with a warning look.

“Would I ever do such a thing?” she shot back. “We just got this kitchen rebuilt. I’m so paranoid now that I check all that stuff three times before I ever leave the house. I’m not Em, you know.”

Edward’s expression softened. “I know,” he said, giving her face a gentle squeeze. He knew it was wise to once again move to a different topic. “Did you get your school books yet? Classes start Monday.”

“I’m fully aware of that,” Alice replied, her tone still annoyed. “I have three more days to get them. Have you been to any of the U-Book Stores right before the semester starts? They’re a nightmare, every single one of them. I’ll go Sunday, when I have the entire day to stand in the check-out line.”

“Fine, wait until the last minute. Just don’t come crying to me when you can’t find any more used textbooks because they’re sold out.”

“Geez, Edward, lighten up.” She turned her back to retrieve a bowl and spoon out of the brand new cherry cabinets. “I have plenty of money saved up for those kinds of expenses. I like new books anyway, so I can highlight them myself. Helps me memorize things.”

“All right,” he conceded. He headed for the back door, turning to Alice before leaving. “Be careful. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she replied, smiling and flashing those big, sweet doe eyes at him.

Edward and Alice always made sure they said the words, every day. They knew too well that there was nothing worse than things left unsaid.

He sighed at his reflection in the diner window now, drained more of his coffee and glanced at his watch. Bella should be here any minute. A ripple of anticipation traversed his spine, and he felt himself smiling already. He wondered if Alice might somehow go through Bella’s checkout line at the book store this weekend, even though there were dozens of temporary workers hired to handle the glut of book sales this time of year. The odds were slim. But he couldn’t stop imagining the two of them meeting, maybe even hitting it off. He had the feeling they would. Alice would appreciate Bella’s candor, and Bella would probably find his cousin’s quirks amusing.

Maybe Alice would even be able to talk her into overlooking the contents of his day planner, like she evidently had her co-worker Sophia. If anyone could perform such a miracle, it would be his wily baby cousin.

Edward was watching a boy and girl building a castle together in the sandbox across the street when his view was disrupted by a mane of long, brown hair swinging past the window. He snapped to attention and that crazy thrill raced down his spine again. As he watched Bella’s backside hurry down the sidewalk, he wondered how such a tiny girl could have such a big impact on him. He admired the blue-jean-covered sway of her hips as she neared the front door. He imagined placing his palms over each denim cheek and squeezing until she squealed in protest and pummeled him away. Or better yet, maybe she would just put her arms around him and return the favor.

His heart picked up its pace when his fantasy was replaced by the reality of her standing inside the entry, looking around. She appeared uncertain, maybe even a little scared. She looked like he felt inside. Her dark eyes circled the room, searching. He was surprised to see them sweep right past him to the other side of the diner.

Doesn’t she recognize me?
Oh, God. He’s not here. He didn’t show.

Bella’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach as she scanned the sea of ubiquitous Seattle plaid and chino that filled the café tables and booths. She looked at her watch to see if she was too late, or more unlikely, too early.

And then she heard that unmistakable sound -- the sound velvet would make if it could talk.

“Bella! Over here,” Edward called, just loudly enough for her to hear.

Her head whipped to the left, toward that sweet sound. How had she missed him? When he stood and motioned to her, she understood why. His rumpled, clay-colored shirt, worn tee and equally faded black pants were so far removed from the designer suit he’d worn last weekend that she was literally taken aback. He was every bit as breathtaking as she remembered, but down-to-earth, which she’d never expected. He looked utterly touchable now, in a maddening, finger-itching kind of way.

“Hey,” she said sheepishly, making her way to the booth he occupied. He waited until she sidled into the seat across from him and shimmied out of her backpack before he sat down again. The impeccable manners were still in place, even if his appearance was anything but.

“You look great,” he told her. Her attire was as understated as his; her face unadorned save for a slip of eyeliner and a thin coat of mascara. It reminded him of how she looked after their shower together. He then spent the next five minutes trying very hard not to picture her naked.

“So do you,” she answered, her eyes roaming over his wrinkled shirt and chaotic hair. “You look different -- I almost didn’t recognize you at first.”

Edward appeared a bit disconcerted at first, then broke into a grin as he caught her meaning. “Sorry, I don’t usually suit up for breakfast.”

“Of course not. I didn’t expect. . .” she began awkwardly, then started over. “You just took me by surprise for a minute, that’s all. I mean, you look like a guy I might run into on the quad or something.” Only much, much hotter.

“You mean, I look like a regular guy?” His tone was teasing. “There goes my mystique, shot to hell.”

Bella let out a short laugh. “I like the real guy under there, remember?”

He remembered. He remembered all too well. He gave her a faint nod.

“I like you like this. You look good,” she said. And then her cheeks colored and her eyes fell in that unnecessarily bashful way that made him want to kiss her.

She was grateful when the waitress appeared with menus a moment later, so she’d have a brief reprieve from Edward’s beautiful eyes penetrating hers from across the white laminated tabletop. He was irresistible in a whole new, disheveled way that sent her heart thudding harder than his fancy suit ever could. It made her think that maybe, just maybe, this could really happen. That she could have something real, with the Real Edward -- the one who frequented regular coffee shops with normal girls like her, not the fantasy version he pimped out to the highest bidder each night.

When she looked up from the menu that she was barely absorbing, he was still staring at her.

“Aren’t you ordering?” she asked.

He nodded. “I already know what I want.”

His words were laden with heavy innuendo to her desperate ears, when she was sure that the comment was innocuous.

“Do you come here a lot?”

He nodded again. “It’s my favorite diner in the city. Great coffee, great omelets. Nothing fancy, just good food.”

“Usually the simplest things in life are the best,” she said. She looked over the omelet selection, and when the waitress returned, she ordered the one with the works. Edward chuckled at that, and she looked up at him curiously.

“So much for simplicity,” he kidded. But then he smiled up at the waitress and said, “I’ll have the same, Lydia, thank you.”

Bella was startled at Edward’s familiarity with the waitress until she noticed that the woman was wearing a nametag. Lydia’s face darkened a shade, and Bella could see that it was an involuntary reaction to hearing her name spoken in the dulcet tones of Edward Cullen. The waitress was still blushing as she retrieved their menus and backed away, promising to return soon with their meals.

Bella shook her head and laughed a little; Edward turned puzzled eyes to hers.

“What?” he demanded.

“You don’t even know the power you have.”

It was his turn to laugh. “What power is that?”

“Over women. I have the feeling you charm every one of them effortlessly, and you don’t even know you’re doing it.”

Edward’s smirk was dismissive. “I’m pretty sure that’s just a side effect of my occupation. Charm is an acquired skill, like anything else.”

She shook her head emphatically this time. “No. You were born with it. It practically oozes out of your pores. And we,” she said sweepingly of her entire gender, “are powerless to resist.”

His left eyebrow raised, pulling the corner of his lip with it. “I’ll have to work on being more specific in choosing my target, then. I’m not interested in casting my spell over everyone.”

His tone was self-mocking, but his gaze was entirely serious. He didn’t give a damn about charming anyone but her, and he wasn’t even sure why. All he knew was that whenever she looked at him that certain way, or paid him even the slightest of compliments, his pants grew uncomfortably tight. He felt like a teenager again, getting a hard-on over his biology lab partner every time she so much as brushed up against him.

“I’m not sure charm like yours can be contained,” Bella said, playing along. “If you channel it all in one direction, for only one person, I think it might be too much for her to take. It might short-circuit her hormones or something.”

Edward couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “I think you greatly overestimate my powers of seduction, Miss Swan. Besides, I’m pretty sure that the girl I have in mind could handle just about anything I might throw at her.”

The statement was loaded, and they both knew it.

“At least, I’m hoping she can,” he added softly. He dropped his eyes to his coffee cup, and, noticing it was empty, motioned to Lydia across the room for a refill.

“She might be willing to give it the old college try,” Bella answered, just as softly.

Their eyes were locked in another unspoken conversation while Lydia topped off their coffee. Both of them dared to hope now, though hope was a foolish endeavor, fraught with pitfalls. Yet neither one was brave enough to voice that hope, and their silence intensified after the waitress ambled away with her pot of java.

Edward cleared his throat and busied himself with doctoring his coffee in the usual way. “So, did you have a nice week?” he asked in a stilted tone, inwardly cursing his cowardice.

“Yeah, it was okay. I worked a lot, which is a good way to avoid being in the dorm too much. This time of year, I’m afraid I’ll get drafted to help other kids move in if I don’t look busy enough.”

That made Edward smile and the tension eased a bit, Bella noted with relief. “How about you? How was your week?” she inquired.

He stirred his coffee carefully, avoiding her inquisitive gaze. “Fine. Same ol’ same old.”

“Your schedule looked pretty busy,” she noted. “Which reminds me. . .”

She trailed off and began fishing through her backpack on the seat next to her. She pulled out Edward’s day planner and gingerly pushed it toward him across the tabletop. They both stared at the black notebook as if it were made of plutonium.

“I hope you didn’t miss any important appointments,” Bella said, rather disingenuously.

He caught her tone and his eyes bored into hers, looking for clues to whatever she wasn’t saying.

“I told you, I have my schedule on my phone. This is just a back-up.” His voice rang hollowly in his own ears.

“Right.” Bella bit her lip and stared at the little black book, trying not to remember everything she’d read last night when she got home from work. She’d finally given in to temptation and scoured its contents, cover to cover. She wished she’d never done it, because she couldn’t un-read the words. They marched across the pages of her mind now in an ugly, syncopated rhythm that began tumbling from her lips before she could stop it.

“Well, I didn’t know if you had all those Cliff’s Notes about your clients on your phone, too. I mean, you could get into trouble if you forgot which of your customers have kids, and what their names are; which ones prefer golf to tennis, or red wine to white; which ones like to be hand-cuffed or spanked before you fuck them. . . stuff like that.”

Edward’s eyes turned to flint and his mouth to sand. He could feel his nostrils flair with both humiliation that she had pored through his appointment book, and self-disgust that he had practically begged her to do so.

Bella’s face burned with the fire of her own audacity. She knew she had no right to judge him when she herself had hired him for sex, like so many other women before her. But she couldn’t stop herself from challenging him, to see what he would say. To find out if he would defend himself, or fight for her. To discover who would win: the Real Edward, or Fantasy Edward.

“Touche, Miss Swan,” he managed at last. “I deserve that. After all, I’m the idiot who put this in your purse to begin with.” He reached for the planner, slowly pulling it across the table. “But whether you believe me or not, I haven’t slept with all these women. Half the dates I go on aren’t even about sex.”

Bella’s eyes were wide with shock. “Wait, what? Back up a minute. You put your day planner in my purse? On purpose?”

His stomach roiled miserably. “It was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

“So you wanted me to read all of that?”

“I wanted to see you again, that’s all. I definitely went about it the wrong way.”

She emitted an incredulous laugh. “That’s an understatement. Do you have any idea how it made me feel to see what you really do, in black and white? It’s one thing to have a vague idea, but quite another to see the details. The names, the places. The positions.” She spat the last word like a snake spewing venom. He couldn’t know how she was recoiling inside again, just like she had last night, imagining how boring he must have found sex with her.

He could hear her self-doubt rearing its ugly head, and he reached out instinctively, closing his hand over hers on the table. They both felt the jolt of electricity generated from their first touch since last weekend. She flinched, but she didn’t pull away.

“Bella, look at me,” he ordered, then waited until she lifted reluctant eyes to his. “None of those women mean anything to me. I have to write those notes to myself just to keep each utterly forgettable date from blurring into the next one.”

Her eyes rolled in disbelief and he squeezed her hand harder until her gaze met his again. He leaned in close, his voice low and urgent. “You were there with me in that hotel room last weekend, weren’t you? You know what we shared. That meant something to me.”

She stared at him in desperation, shaking her head, fighting tears. “I hate how much I want to believe you.”

He closed his other hand around hers, clasping her warm fingers between his. “I hate how much I want you to.”

She closed her eyes before the swell of his relentless sea-colored gaze drowned her resolve. She let out a shaky breath and said, “All I could think of last night after I read your notes was, ‘I wonder what he’ll write about me so he can remember who the hell I am?’”

Her words pierced him, wounding him much more deeply than the cutting remark she’d made during their first dinner together. He shook his head in disbelief, wondering how she could think their time together meant so little to him. But then he glanced down and saw the burden of proof against him, written in his own hand on the pages of that appointment book.

He let go of her hand and opened the book, retrieving the pen tucked in its front cover. He flipped back to the “notes” section until he came to a blank page. He scrawled a few words in large letters at the top and then turned the notebook around, shoving it toward her.

She slowly lowered her eyes the page and took a deep breath.

Saturday, August 20. Bella Swan.
Unforgettable.

Her breath caught; she faltered before she fought back. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. That charm of yours. . .”

“Fuck charm. I’m not being charming. I’m being honest. I don’t need to write anything else down because everything about you is etched permanently in my mind. Would you like me to recite a litany of your likes and dislikes? Your favorite color is yellow because it’s cheerful. You like Indian and Asian food. You don’t like sports, but you pretend to for your step-dad’s sake.

“Your dating history is brief but filled with clueless boys and assholes. You’re embarrassed when you shouldn’t be, and brave when it’s foolish to be. You’re an optimist about everyone else, but a pessimist when it comes to yourself. You’re don’t have any idea how beautiful you are, or how good you smell or taste. You have a beauty mark on left ass cheek, your right breast is slightly larger than your left, and your second toes are longer than your first. And when you come, you make the most amazing sounds in the world.”

He stopped then, a bit stunned at the speech he’d just rattled off. How the hell did she get him to do that? --Gut and serve himself up to her over his favorite table at Mott’s like he was the next course.

Bella’s blood was pounding in her ears as if he’d actually made her come instead of just talking about it. “Charm” was the wrong word for it, but whatever Edward had just unleashed on her had definitely short-circuited her hormones, and it was most certainly more than she could take.

But she had taken it. She sat in stunned silence, trying to let his words sink in. Trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she hadn’t been imagining things; that she hadn’t been wasting her time with wishful thinking this past week.

And yet, something still didn’t quite fit. Some part of the puzzle remained unsolved. As she stared down at Edward’s signature scrawl, she remembered what it was. She looked up into those expressive eyes, still raw and naked from his unexpected outpouring.

“I believe you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “But there’s just one more thing I need to know.”

He said nothing, bracing himself for whatever was coming.

“Am I as unforgettable as Emily?”