Chapter 41

Bella propped herself up on one elbow in Edward’s bed so she could study his face in the dim morning light.

No bruising - that was good. He insisted that his grandmother hadn’t hit him hard enough to leave a mark, but he winced when he tried to chew the Chinese take-out they’d ordered last night. He agreed to put ice on it after dinner at her and Alice’s insistence. It looked like it had helped.

Bella reached out to run the tips of her fingers gingerly over the contour of his square jaw, relaxed now in sleep. He made a small noise and stirred slightly, pressing the other side of his face into the pillow. She turned her hand so the backs of her fingers glided lightly along the stubble that covered the lower half of his face and crept down his neck. His beard was a thick, dark blond that served to somehow heighten his sculpted appearance. He was already a work of art, in Bella’s eyes. Any attempt to duplicate him in pencil could only be a pale imitation.

He murmured again, turning his face into her touch this time. The sound was low and throaty, rumbling up from his chest - an instant aphrodisiac to her. Bella wondered if he would be in the mood this morning. He certainly wasn’t last night, and she didn’t blame him. He and Alice were obviously still a bit shell-shocked from their grandmother’s behavior earlier. What was meant to be a fun night in the Cullen house turned out to be a subdued evening watching old movies from the living room couch. Jasper Whitlock had joined them after supper, and Bella could see that Alice derived the same kind of peace from being with him that she did from Edward. She only hoped it worked in reverse - that he found peace in her.

She’d loved their low-key night together. She had never spent that kind of time with him, just cuddling on the couch, watching TV and making small talk with him, his cousin and her boyfriend. The ordinariness of it was comforting. It made her think this could work - that her relationship with Edward could hold up in the real world. She still felt disconcertingly like Cinderella racing away in her pumpkin carriage every time she climbed in her rusty red truck to leave Edward.

He sighed a little, the corners of his delectable lips turning upward. She could see his eyes stirring under their lids, making his long lashes flutter ever so slightly. He was about to awaken. The anticipation bubbled through her veins and stretched her mouth into a sheepish smile. She knew she ought to feel guilty for waking him, but the sight of him stirring to life was too wondrous to regret.

“Hey,” she whispered at the first sight of his eyes peering through their fringe of lashes. She let her fingers trail over his beard one last time before falling to the mattress below his pillow.

“Hey,” he mumbled back, his voice thick and low with sleep. His grin quickly matched hers.

“Do you feel okay this morning?”

He nodded and stretched a little. “I felt better when you were touching me, though.”

They both let out a small laugh and Bella obediently reached for his face once more. “Are you sore?”

“No.” His lips twitched slightly when her fingertips neared his chin.

“Liar.” She stopped and gently probed the bruised part of his jaw. “You’re still tender, right here.”

“Yeah, well . . .” He trailed off and shrugged his shoulder. “Who knew my grandmother had such a mean right hook?”

He played it off like a joke, but she didn’t laugh. She cupped her hand around the uninjured side of his face and leaned in closer. “I’m sorry she hurt you.”

Her eyes told him she knew where the pain really was, deep in his chest. But she touched her lips softly to his bruised jaw, and the pleasure it gave him eased the ache inside.

“She didn’t mean to,” he said. “She was scared. I shouldn’t have leaned over her like that to grab those photos - she saw it as a threat, an attack. I should have known better. I wasn’t thinking.”

Bella frowned and turned his face toward hers. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. She was irrational. The disease made her lash out, but it wasn’t at you. She loves you. All you were trying to do was remind her of that.”

The ache inside Edward intensified, but it was a wholly different one from the pain of losing his grandmother. It was the ache of being filled with love for this girl and her efforts to comfort him. He was brimming over, bursting at the seams with it.

He reached under the covers to find the warmth of her slight body and pull her closer. His hand skimmed over his own t-shirt and boxer shorts that she’d borrowed to sleep in. He exhaled heavily at the memory of her begging to put on the shirt he’d been wearing all day. He smiled now, remembering the way she’d carelessly tossed her bra over the nearest chair, wriggled her naked torso into his t-shirt, then let it fall over those spectacular little tits so they could taunt him from beneath their thin cotton veil. Best of all, she’d sighed and wrapped her arms around herself, claiming that the heat and smell of him still clinging to the fabric was heaven.

This was his heaven, here and now. Waking up to this girl who’d held him all night, even when he jerked awake with a shout after he dreamed that his grandmother had fallen down the stairs and he was unable to catch her. This girl who’d kissed his jaw so many times last night and this morning that he began to believe there were healing powers in her lips.

“Thank you,” he said, pulling her close to him under the covers.

“For what?” she asked. She snuggled into him, limbs entwining with his.

“Being you,” he said. He slid his hand up her back, into her hair. “Being here. With me.”

“Where else would I be?” she asked, in that tone that added, silly boy.

He didn’t want to think about the answer to that. Bella never seemed to see all her options, or at least consider them.

“I love you,” she reminded him softly. “You would be there for me, if the situations were reversed.”

And just like that, she put things in perspective for him, as always. He wouldn’t think twice if she were the one in need. For that matter, he required no such incentive to be with her. It was increasingly difficult for him to be anywhere else.

He hoped his eyes spoke for him as he pulled her into a good-morning kiss. “I love you” was hopelessly inadequate, but he said it anyway, between sticky morning-breath smooches. Every time he remembered her reluctance to kiss him that first morning-after, he would grin and then kiss her more deeply, with more urgency.

She was over such niceties, anyway. They were false and feeble protests from the start. She had been nothing but raw and open with him since that first night, stripping him to his bare essence and willing him to do the same to her.

They had always been this way with one another, and now was no different. They pulled impatiently at each other’s clothes until their naked skin made contact. The heat danced between them, urging their bodies to move in time with the flames. They grasped at one another, desperate to be closer, and before Edward’s brain could kick into gear, his erection was sinking into that warm, wet home between Bella’s legs.

He cursed softly to himself as he slid in deeper. It wasn’t safe to do this. Not yet. Still, he asked her anyway, though he already knew the answer.

“How long have you been on the pill?”

“A week.” Her face registered her own disappointment.

He nodded and reluctantly withdrew from her, rolling away long enough to open the nightstand drawer and grab a foil packet. He removed the condom from within, sheathed himself as quickly as possible and scooted right back to Bella. She hadn’t moved - she was still lying on her side, facing him. He pulled the bed covers all the way down, exposing her pale and lovely form to his appreciative gaze. Like an alabaster statue in a museum, her beauty was surreal, almost too exquisite to touch.

Almost.

He knelt next to her and reached one hand out to the delicate bones of her ankle, encircling it easily with his fingers. He lifted gently, pulling her leg upward. He pressed his lips to the arch of her foot, right at the sensitive instep. His mouth followed the ivory path over her ankle and up the back of her calf to the crook of her knee; then down the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh to the swollen proof of her arousal. He tickled the bright pink skin of her folds with the tip of his tongue before pushing it into her creamy opening. He moaned at the taste - he would never tire of it.

And she would never tire of being tasted. She squirmed at the almost unbearable pleasure of his wet mouth teasing her, and the intoxicating heat of his hand gripping the back of her knee, rendering her immobile. She couldn’t close her legs if she wanted to.

She didn’t want to, but she whimpered at the relentless explorations of his mouth, and then his other hand. They worked in tandem, gently stroking, probing, pushing deep inside her. She moaned again, unable to contain it. How did he still do this to her? Take her to that place where nothing existed but spiraling ecstasy.

She gasped in both disappointment and relief when he pulled away for a moment. But he was only repositioning himself, straddling her lower leg and effectively pinning her to the mattress. He lifted her raised leg higher, so her ankle rested on his shoulder, opening her wide to receive his rigid cock hovering nearby. With his free hand he grasped himself, rubbing the head up and down her clitoris before teasing her opening. And then he pushed in slowly with gentle strokes, deeper and deeper, until she didn’t think she could take any more.

But his pelvis was insistent, grinding into hers, making sure every inch of him was swallowed inside her. This position was yet another first for her, taking his cock sideways, so that his penetration was utter and complete. He groaned with each stroke now, his thrusts pushing her hip upward, his skin smacking against hers at the impact. She grasped at the pillow she’d slept on and groaned along with him. He was so deep inside her, she wasn’t sure if it was pleasure or pain she was feeling. She wondered if he was bruising her cervix. Could that happen?

He recognized that tense look on her face. He saw it the night he took her virginity. He slowed his movements and gently kissed her ankle, trailing his lips down her calf once more. Then he ran his hand down her leg, over hip and down her back, while the other reached out to caress her arm, her breasts, her stomach. He stroked her body up and down until she sighed and relaxed. He ended by swirling his fingers between her legs, massaging her sex rhythmically while he slowly picked up the pace again, sliding his cock a little deeper each time. Her moans were definitely filled with more pleasure than pain now. He loved reading her this way; gauging her responses and then adjusting his lovemaking accordingly.

He realized he’d never used that term in his life, even in his head. Making love. It always sounded silly to him; old-fashioned and trite. He smiled a little now, but he was ready to cut the phrase some slack. Maybe he’d never used it because he’d never loved anyone before.

He looked down at Bella, her hair spread out over the pillow in a wild tangle, fingers gripping the pillow case, forehead furrowed in a mixture of pleasure and pain. Her breathing was heavy, her breasts heaving in time with his thrusts. God, she was beautiful. And the way she felt was beyond compare, like her body was created specifically for his, her snug vagina gripping him like a glove, the way the stupid condom that separated them did.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted cry. He wanted to come.

“Fuck,” he mumbled in frustration. He withdrew long enough to turn Bella until she lay flat on her back, looking up at him in surprise. He drew her other leg up so that both were raised. He grasped the backs of her knees, pushing her legs open until her glistening pussy was gaping wide before him. The sound of his own ragged breaths rang in his ears as he stared down at her.

“You are the most beautiful thing in the world to me,” he whispered.

She had no chance to reply. She was still staring up at him, slightly stunned, when he let go of her legs and fell into her, lowering himself so abruptly that the breath left her lungs in a rush. She gasped for air; it came out as a cry when he slid his cock back inside her. He quickly smothered her mouth in a kiss, his tongue moving in time with his thrusts, his hands cradling her face to hold her steady. His urgency surprised her for only a moment before it kicked her own needs into overdrive. She writhed compliantly beneath him, her eager hips raising to meet his. Her fingers tangled in his hair, hands gripping his neck to hang on as his hips rolled relentlessly into hers. The weight of his body pressed her into the mattress and made her feel each deep thrust with an intensity that literally shook her to the core.

And yet, as she clung to him, bathed in his sweat and panting breath, she felt something even more palpable than his desire, more poignant than his need.

Love.

He loved her.

Of course, he had told her so on her birthday, and a dozen times since then. He had written it in text messages. Said it on the phone. Murmured it during sex like it was a mantra that would lead him to nirvana.

But his eyes were speaking now, even louder than his body as it strained to become one with hers. She knew he needed her now more than ever, after watching his grandmother’s condition deteriorate a step further yesterday. He was desperate and hurting. He might need something from her that she wasn’t sure she could provide. She could never take away the hurt of losing the person he’d loved as a mother for years.

But she could give him something else. She could love him like he’d never been loved before. Love him with every ounce of her being - her heart, her mind, her body, her soul. They all converged into one as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him into her, pressing every inch of herself that she could manage against him.

“I love you, Edward,” she whispered, her lips grazing his earlobe, then his cheek. “I love you.” She said it again and again, the way he did a few nights ago, on her birthday. Once he’d said the words out loud, he couldn’t seem to stop, and the bliss she felt was a high from which she never wanted to come down. She was determined to take him there now, to make him feel nothing but happiness in this moment.

But his grunts only became more anguished as he drove into her. The desperation in his eyes was palpable as he came closer and closer to release. She met his wild gaze with a fierce calm, gripping his face firmly, fingers clutching his hair to hold him steady as he drilled her.

“Baby, please,” he gasped, not knowing what he was begging for.

“Give it to me,” she demanded, clamping her vaginal muscles tightly around him, squeezing until the burn began to seep through her belly. “Give it all to me. Everything you have.”

Your love. Your desire. Your virility.

Your pain. Your frustration. Your impotence.

I will take it all, and I will give you everything in return.

Her offer was unspoken, as was his acceptance. He answered only with animalistic groans, plunging his cock between her rigid walls until the delicious friction had its way with him. One last thrust and then he stilled with a panting cry, letting the ecstasy rocket through him and into her, over and over.

He collapsed into her in profound relief. His chaotic thoughts had vanished; his emotions distilled into one easily identified truth. He focused on her face, letting his eyes speak to hers.

You are everything to me.

“Everything,” he whispered, before sealing it with a kiss.

.

.

.

Edward peeled off the used condom, wrapped it in a tissue and threw it in the trash can under the bathroom sink. He would be glad when he could dispense with these things altogether. Glad when he could just be with Bella, no condoms - or exes, or phony dates - coming between them.

But the light at the end of the tunnel was becoming brighter. His practice time at Charlotte’s had begun yielding results. He could play his recital piece backwards and forwards without error. Now he was tackling the nuances, trying to infuse each passage with the perfect phrasing and volume, legato to staccato, pianissimo to forte. He had studied the sheet music thoroughly and strove to play it exactly as written, while still pouring his own emotion into it, to somehow leave a personal mark.

Charlotte had even talked about hiring a music coach, which he knew would be of great benefit; but he couldn’t bear the thought of her spending any more money on him. The guilt of his debt to her already weighed heavily on him.

He sighed, grabbed a wash cloth and cleaned himself up before heading back to the bedroom. He was already missing the warmth of Bella’s arms, and wanted to spend as much time there as he could before she had to leave for her late-morning class.

He threw the bathroom door open, then came to an abrupt halt. He had almost run smack into someone in the hallway, and that someone was Jasper Whitlock.

The two men stared at each other in mutual consternation for a moment. The realization that Jasper had spent the night with his baby cousin overshadowed Edward’s embarrassment that he’d just been caught stark naked. Fully-clothed Jasper’s own embarrassment was only exacerbated by Edward’s state of undress. He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead as he stammered a red-faced excuse.

“Edward - hey. This is not what it looks like. I didn’t - I wouldn’t take advantage of Alice,” he insisted, shaking his head. “Nothing happened. She just didn’t want to be alone last night. So I stayed with her.”

He seemed to steel himself for Edward’s wrath, but he didn’t back down. Edward found that he rather respected the guy for it. Not that Jasper needed his respect. Who was he to judge anyone else, after the choices he’d made? Especially when he was standing here in the hallway with his Johnson hanging out.

“It’s good that you stayed. She did need someone.” He paused, then clarified, “She needed you. I’m glad you were here for her.”

Jasper returned the half-smile. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Edward nodded his approval, then moved past Jasper to his own bedroom door. “Alice is a big girl now. She makes her own decisions,” he said over his shoulder. “She doesn’t need my approval.”

“But I know she’d rather have it than not.” Jasper gave him a cautiously hopeful look.

Edward smiled again. “She has it.”

Jasper’s shoulders relaxed in relief as Edward disappeared and closed the bedroom door.

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The kitchen was comfortably quiet, save the sounds of masticating teeth and cutlery on plates. Bella, Edward, Alice and Jasper sat in row at the bar, inhaling their breakfasts like prisoners who’d been given their rations after a long day on the chain gang. Jasper was the one to finally break the silence.

“These pancakes are awesome, man,” he enthused to Edward, reaching around Alice for the syrup bottle. “Seriously good. You could open your own diner.”

“Stop sucking up,” she told him with a giggle. “You already won him over. What about my eggs? I think this is the first time I haven’t overcooked them in the history of . . . ever.”

“That’s because this is only the third time you’ve attempted it,” Edward reminded her with a snort.

“All the more impressive! I’m practically a natural in the kitchen.”

“That you are,” Jasper readily agreed, leaning over and giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “Your eggs are perfect. Delicious. You can make me breakfast any time.”

Bella could practically see Edward bristle, and she almost laughed out loud. Though he knew his little cousin wasn’t that much younger than she was, knowing it and accepting it were two different things. Bella pressed her thigh against his underneath the countertop, making him look over. Her eyes reminded him what he’d told Jasper about Alice being all grown up now. His replied, I know, but I don’t have to like it.

Bella muffled a giggle in her orange juice glass, taking a long draught. Her eyes caught the clock on the wall as she set the glass down, and her mood abruptly shifted. She let out a dejected sigh.

“What is it?” Edward asked softly.

“Just realizing I have to leave soon to get to my art history lecture,” she said.

“Me, too - global politics,” Alice interjected with a groan. “I feel like playing hooky.”

“You just did that yesterday,” Edward reminded her. He left out, with disastrous results.

“I know,” she answered with a frown.

“I have to work right after class is over, so there’s no point in me skipping,” Bella said glumly.

“And I have to work tonight,” Alice added. “But we should try to find a time to get together again, the four of us. Maybe go out and have some fun for a change.”

They all agreed on that plan of action. Moments later, all were checking their cell phones to figure out when they were free. A quick comparison of work and school schedules proved disappointing. The four of them would not be able to get together again for at least a week, though Alice and Bella made plans to meet for lunch on campus a couple of days. Bella was even more dismayed to discover that the only time she and Edward could easily see one another over the next couple of weeks was on Sunday evenings.

Her chest constricted at the prospect of all those days and nights away from him. She knew work and school would keep her busy most of the time, but that didn’t erase the ache she felt inside. Waking up next to him in that massive four-poster bed was a privilege she was loath to give up. She felt connected to him in a way she’d never experienced with any human being before. How was she supposed to live without that now?

Edward seemed to read her mind with little effort. As soon as he’d made sure she was safely buckled into the cab of her truck, he leaned in and pulled her close.

“We’re going to make this work, Bella,” he said softly, his thumb stroking her cheek. “I’ll call you and text you every day. We’ll find time to be together. Even if I have to sneak into your dorm in the middle of the night,” he added with a short laugh.

“You can sneak in every night if you want to,” she answered hopefully.

“Don’t tempt me. I’d do it if I thought your grades wouldn’t suffer from lack of sleep.”

“Fuck my grades,” she said, only half-kidding. And then, wistfully, “Fuck me.”

He flashed a quick grin, but his words were serious. “We’re way past fucking. I want more from you than that.”

“You have it,” she told him.

He nodded. “I know. I’m so grateful for you.” He leaned in and pressed reverent lips to hers. “I don’t know how to repay what you give me. But I’ll find a way.”

He never seemed to tire of saying that, but she was tired of arguing about what he already gave her. So she just smiled weakly and nodded.

“Sunday night,” he reminded her, his voice perking up. “Call me as soon as you get off work. I’ll come pick you up and take you to dinner somewhere. Be thinking about what kind of food you want, and I’ll take you someplace new. Okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed. They shared several prolonged, yearning kisses before she reluctantly left Edward’s home and headed for the UW campus.

Her head was filled with wondering on the drive back, but not about what kind of cuisine she wanted to try Sunday night. She was much more concerned about how she was going to fill the weekend hours until then.

And keep herself from wondering how Edward was filling his.

　



　

　

　

　

　

Chapter 40

Bella chose her usual easel, greeted her classmates on either side, got out her art supplies and waited.

She clutched her double espresso in both hands and sipped it nervously. She knew there was no point in being nervous. She wasn’t even sure what she was nervous about. Sure, this was Thursday, but so what? That didn’t automatically mean the blond ponytail guy would be today’s model, just because he was last Thursday. And even if he was, the art instructor always made sure the models faced different directions each time, so that the students would have different viewpoints of the body as they drew. She wouldn’t have to look him in the eye, or any other parts, this time.

She took a deep, cleansing breath as the instructor entered the room; it caught in her throat when she saw Jackass James right on his heels.

Shit.

She gnawed at her lip as she watched the model disappear behind a large screen at the back of the room to disrobe. Meanwhile, the professor dragged a stool to the center of the circle of easels.

“Today our model will recreate a famous pose for us - that of Auguste Rodin’s ‘The Thinker.’ The statue was originally called Le Poète, and was part of a portal commissioned by the Musée Des Artes Decoratifs. Rodin called the portal The Gates of Hell, based upon the characters of Dante’s The Divine Comedy. Some believe ‘The Thinker’ was a depiction of Dante himself, as he pondered his epic poem; while others believe Rodin’s inspiration harkens back to the tradition of Michelangelo’s heroic figures, who reflected intellect as well as physicality. . .”

The instructor’s words faded to a buzzing drone in Bella’s ears as James reappeared in the same blue bathrobe as last week, then strode to the stool in the middle of the room. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t look at anyone, actually. Still, she didn’t let out a sigh of relief until he was seated in profile before her, facing far to her left, staring at the floor in imitation of The Thinker’s pensive pose.

Drawing Jackass James proved to be much easier when he was unable to give her so much as an errant glance. Within minutes, Bella had reduced him to a mental abstraction: an intricate network of bone, muscle and connective tissue outlined beneath smooth, pale skin. She liked when she was able to get lost in the work like this. Like many artists, she called it “the zone.“ Time ceased to have meaning there; hours could pass in the blink of an eye. She experienced the same phenomenon when she began to play with words, trying to convey a thought or evoke a feeling by stringing them together in just the right way.

She’d felt this way yesterday morning while drawing Edward, though the task was more daunting because of her love for the subject matter. She had found it more difficult to reduce him to the simpler elements of shape and shade than she normally would. She had difficulty seeing him as anything less than the whole, a sum much greater than its parts. How could she recreate that sum if she couldn’t dissect it in the usual fashion?

She thought back to the first time she’d studied him, the night they met. She had sat across the hotel dining room table from him and sought out his physical imperfections in an effort to boost her own fragile ego. But now when she thought of that table, her first memory was overtaken by the more recent ones. A kaleidoscope of visions, sounds and sensations danced through her head, a different emotion washing over her with each one. The effect was more like music, a swirl of colorful rhythm and melody, than a two-dimensional picture in black and white. But she endeavored to capture it all the same, to recreate with pencil the living, breathing glory of the man she loved.

She had no such difficulty today. There was no music in this classroom. Just an assignment to be completed, and Bella treated it as such.

As she dutifully copied the form of the model before her, she couldn’t help but notice the more obvious differences between him and Edward. James was shorter and more compact, his muscles a little bulkier and perhaps more defined. She had yet to attempt Edward’s entire figure in pencil, but her fingers itched to capture the shape of his musculature, stretched long and lean by his superior height. His face was more poetic as well, his features aristocratic where James’ were broader, more mundane.

Despite the physical disparity, Bella knew the real difference lay far beneath. Edward’s true beauty lay in his soul, reflected in the loving, yearning gaze of his blue-green eyes. She had no desire to feel James’ eyes on her. She remembered their leer all too well.

To his credit, he kept them trained on the floor as he rested his chin on his curled fist, his body bent over in the pose of The Thinker. She wondered what kinds of thoughts went through a mind such as his, and a slight shiver shot down her spine.

The professor strolled around the room several times throughout the class, providing occasional instruction. He complimented Bella on the fluidity of her lines and her use of shading to portray the contrast of light and shadow playing on the model’s body. She was pleased at the compliments, and with her work, despite the subject matter. When class came to an end, she quickly averted her eyes so that she would not have to witness whether or not James had a public erectile problem today.

The professor asked the students to leave their sketch pads on their easels and make sure their names were written on the cover, as he planned to study and grade their work before the next class. Bella had already marked all of her supplies at the beginning of the semester in the event that they were lost or stolen. As she gathered her charcoal and pencils, she spied the telltale blue bathrobe out of the corner of her eye. Apparently James was eying the drawings of himself again, the arrogant prick. She hurried to close her sketch book before he approached, but she wasn’t quick enough. His hand shot out to stop the pages, holding them open while he gave her drawing a once-over.

“Nice,” he commented, once again sounding like the soul of sincerity despite the hard glint in his eyes as they bored into hers. “I like how you see me.”

She said nothing as he closed the cover of her book. After a quick glance at her signature, he added, “. . . Bella Swan.”

The shudder down her spine was palpable this time as he grinned and walked away. He’d uttered the same sentiments as Edward had yesterday, but never had the difference between the two men been more glaring.

.


Edward’s nerves coiled into an all-too familiar knot in the pit of his stomach as he approached the entry to Tranquility Gardens.

Though the place was aptly named, its cottage-like architecture and beautifully kept grounds did little to ease his anxiety. He knew this facility was an idyllic setting for his grandmother to spend her final years, and he was grateful for the care he’d been able to provide her as her Alzheimer’s worsened.

It was the disease itself that seized Edward in its death grip every Thursday when he came to visit. How much of Emily would remain today? How much of her would that ugly disease allow to shine through its icy fingers? For she was the one the beast held captive, devouring her slowly, one precious brain cell at a time.

He took a deep breath of fresh air before entering the residence, but it only served to make the stale, medicinal odor within more unpleasant. Why did all nursing homes smell this way? - a combination of cafeteria food, urine and disinfectant, as if the effort to sanitize every surface never quite caught up with the relentless pollution of failing bodily functions.

He said hello to the wheelchair-bound man sitting near the entryway, looking out the window. The man’s vacant stare indicated he hadn’t heard, or was unable to respond. He dreaded the day his grandmother reached that point of incapacity.

Edward stopped at the front office, checking in to see how Emily was doing today so he would know what to expect. The administrative assistant rang the nurse on duty in her wing, and she came to meet him with a report, like always. She filled him in as they headed toward his grandmother’s room.

“She’s doing well today so far,” the nurse said with an encouraging smile. “She’s knows it’s Thursday, and she’s looking forward to your visit. She has her pictures all laid out, in case she forgets; but I don’t think she’ll need them today.”

“Really? That’s great,” Edward said in relief. He hated the days when it took her a few minutes to figure out who he was. Worse yet were the occasional times she couldn’t seem to remember him at all, speaking mostly of her youth and family members long gone. The enjoyment he normally would have derived from hearing her stories was diminished by the fact that she thought these events had just happened yesterday, not sixty years ago.

But today, the woman who greeted Edward in her small but comfortably furnished room had the wonderful sparkle of recognition in her green eyes.

“Edward, my sweet boy,” she said with a smile, holding out her arms.

“Good morning, Em,” he said, his smile even bigger than hers as he stooped over to give her a hug. He was struck anew at how she had shrunk; how frail she now seemed in his arms. She had always been short, but also stout and robust. Now her shoulders drooped, and she walked with the telltale shuffle of a woman who suffered from arthritis throughout much of her body. But in those increasingly rare moments when her mind was sharp, her beaming face could still light up the entire room.

“How are you today?” he asked her, helping her into her recliner before sitting down on the loveseat next to it.

“Oh, I’m doing okay,” she replied, wincing slightly as she settled into her chair. “This damned hip of mine is acting up, but that’s nothing new.”

“Did the nurse give you anything for it?” Edward’s brows furrowed slightly.

“Eh, just some Tylenol. They’ve got me doped up enough on all those memory-enhancing drugs, you know. Not that they do any good, but I suppose they’re better than nothing.”

“I think they’ve helped you,” he disagreed. “You didn’t need your flashcards to figure out who I was today.”

She didn’t take offense; he knew she wouldn’t when she was lucid. She only laughed and nodded to the end table between them. Spread across its surface were neatly labeled photographs of Edward, Alice, and all four of their deceased parents. “No, but I’ve got them here for later, in case I nod off and wake up to find a stranger in the room.”

Their laughter was cut short by the pain of the truth behind her words.

“I have a surprise for you,” he said. “Alice is coming to have lunch with us today, between classes. She told me you two had a nice visit last weekend, so she was anxious to come see you again.”

“Last weekend . . . ?” Emily trailed off, her eyes uncertain as she tried to retrieve the memory.

“Yes, on Sunday,” he reminded her gently. “She took you on a walk through the gardens because it was such a nice day.”

“The gardens . . . Oh yes, yes, she did,” Emily exclaimed, relief relaxing her features. “My leg wasn’t bothering me so much and it wasn’t raining, I remember. But now, how is she leaving high school to come see me on a week day?”

“Alice is a freshman in college now, at UW. She has some time between classes so she can drive here to meet us.”

“A freshman!” Emily shook her head, clearly irritated with herself. “I don’t know why I can’t remember that. Seems like yesterday she was just a little girl and I was trying to teach her how to bake cookies. She loved eating them, but making them? Not so much,” she recalled with a chuckle.

“Well, she hasn’t changed much in that respect. Although she did make breakfast for me and my girlfriend a couple of weeks ago, so that was a first.” Edward halted, alarmed that he’d just admitted to not only having a girlfriend, but having a girlfriend who’d spent the night with him.

“Girlfriend?” his grandmother repeated, her eyes clouding with worry again. “Have I forgotten something else? Did you tell me about her before?”

“No, no I didn’t,” he quickly assured her. “I just met her about a month ago. You haven’t forgotten anything - I haven’t mentioned her before.”

She nodded, but then frowned again. “Now, do I understand this right? You just met this young girl, but she’s already spent the night in my house?”

Edward felt his neck grow hot, and he pulled at his collar a bit. “Ye-e-es,” he said slowly. “She has. But, my intentions toward her are honorable, as they would have said in your grandmother’s day. It’s kind of serious between us.” He paused and looked into Emily’s eyes, as perceptive as his mother’s had been. “I love her. I’m in love with her.”

Her eyebrows raised, but she was silent for a moment. “In only a month?” she questioned. But then she smiled and said, “Well, yes, I suppose that is how it happens, isn’t it? Like a lightning bolt, out of the clear blue. That’s how it was between me and your grandfather. The man never had a lick of sense, and I knew I was just as big a fool to fall for him. But there’s no stopping it. It just comes. The man bled me dry with his bad habits, but I loved him still, ‘til the day he died and beyond.”

She sighed, her eyes far away, apparently reliving the past for a moment. Edward waited to see if she would return, or if he had lost her for the day. Eventually she smiled and shifted her eyes back to his. “So, what is this girl’s name? Tell me about her.”

“Bella. Bella Swan,” Edward said, still loving the sound of her name, the way it felt on his lips, the way it sounded in the air. And then he found himself pouring his heart out to his grandmother, telling her everything about the girl he loved, and why he loved her. Everything except how they met, of course. He had managed to keep his current career a secret with little effort. On the rare occasions Emily remembered to ask about his job, he claimed to be playing in a jazz combo that toured the Seattle/Portland area. He didn’t feel as guilty about the lie when he reiterated it today. At least now, he had the outside chance of it coming true.

“I’m so happy for you, my sweet boy,” she said, reaching out to grasp his smooth hand in her knobby one. “I always worried about you, even more than I did Alice. The way you always kept to yourself; never let your feelings show. I know how badly you missed your parents when God took them home. I felt your pain as much as I felt my own. You’re too much like me in that respect - stoic. Always trying to be strong. Well, if nothing else, my illness has made me realize that you can’t be strong all the time. There are times when you simply aren’t up to the task. And it’s okay to let the people who love you pick up the slack now and then. It’s okay to ask for help. Lord knows I’ve had to.”

Her grip on him tightened. “I know you’ve had to carry this burden along with me, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I hate those moments when I can feel myself slipping away - when I know I’ve just lost something, some part of my brain, and I don’t even know if it was important or not because I can’t remember what it was. It’s scary. And I know it must scare you, too, to watch that happen.”

She leaned forward to place her other hand on top of their hands clasped together. Edward tried to blink back his tears and focus on what she was saying. “I’m sorry you’ve had to be strong for me, Edward. I always tried to be the strong one, for you and for Alice, because you were so young when I took you in. All the three of us had was each other. And you’ll still always have me. You know who I really am, deep down inside, despite what I might show you on the outside. Just remember that woman when I become unrecognizable, even to myself. Because I know the day is coming. It’s only a matter of when.”

Edward wanted to argue with her, to tell her it wouldn’t come to that. But they both knew it would. And they both shed tears now, to mourn the passing of their time together.

But then Emily smiled and patted Edward’s hand in hers. “I’m so glad you’ve found someone to help you through whatever else this life throws at you. We all need that. A friend, a partner to see us through. Someone to be strong when we can’t manage it ourselves. It sounds like this Bella might be that person for you.”

Edward managed a smile through his tears. “I think so. I hope so. And I hope I can be there for her when she needs me.”

Emily gripped his hand firmly one last time before letting go. “Now, you bring me a picture of her so I can label it and know who she is, even when I don’t know the devil from Adam anymore.”

“I will,” he promised. “Oh, wait - I have a couple of pictures of her on my phone.”

Edward pulled the cell phone out of his back pocket and scrolled through the photos, making sure his grandmother didn’t get a glimpse of the racier ones he’d emailed to himself from Bella’s phone. He found the pictures of their beach outing, then turned the phone so Emily could see.

“She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she?” she exclaimed. “Dainty, like your cousin. Oh, I miss Alice like the dickens. It’s been ages since I’ve seen her. When is she going to come visit me again?”

Edward gave her a wan smile as he put his phone back in his pocket. He took a deep breath, then started all over again.

.


“I can’t believe Em still knows her chocolate chip cookie recipe by heart, but she can’t remember that I’m in college now,” Alice commented to Edward as they strolled through the manicured gardens for the which the nursing home was named.

“That’s the nature of the disease. The stuff that’s been in her brain the longest is the stuff she still remembers. But I can tell her ten times how old we both are now, and it doesn’t stick.”

“I know. I get it. But it’s so frustrating. You have the patience of a saint, I swear. I just want to cry when I have to keep repeating everything.”

“Trust me, I do too. Sometimes I do cry, on the way home afterward. Just to let it out,” Edward admitted.

They walked along the paved path in silence for a moment. The warmth of the late summer sun felt good on Edward’s forearms. He rolled his sleeves up another notch, to the elbows.

“Today was fun, though,” Alice said, kicking a small stone out of her way. “Baking cookies with Em in the community kitchen was great. It almost felt like when we were kids.”

“To her, we still are,” he replied with a rueful laugh. “But sometimes she gets it. She was sharp as a tack when I first got here this morning. It’s such a relief when she’s her old self for a little while. But then it’s almost more painful when she fades away again, because she knows what’s going on. She knows what’s happening to her, when she’s lucid. It’s like a cruel joke on all of us.”

Alice nodded. “I know. At least when she gets stuck in the good old days, she doesn’t know any better. She’s happy there.”

“Yeah. She is.” Edward reached out and grabbed at a loose branch in a nearby bush, then began to absently strip the dead bark from it as they walked. “I told her about Bella this morning, even though I know she won’t remember later.”

“You did?” Alice asked, surprised. “How did she take it? I’ll bet she was happy for you.”

Edward smiled in confirmation. “She told me she was glad I had someone. She was worried about me being alone through all of this. You, too,” he added, making sure Alice felt included.

“I should tell her about Jasper, then,” she decided. “Maybe bring him to meet her some time.”

“Maybe. I think we have to be careful, though. Bringing strangers here might agitate her. If I knew she’d be like she was today, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

“But there’s no way of knowing, is there?” Alice’s hazel eyes were filled with sadness as she looked up at her cousin.

Edward shook his head. “I never know what I’m going to find when I come here. For that matter, we don’t know what we’ll find when we go back inside. When Em wakes up from her nap, she might be a different person than the one we just saw half an hour ago.”

Alice reached for Edward’s hand. He could see she needed reassurance, so he clasped it tightly in his as they walked.

“You don’t have to stay,” he told her as the wound around the bend of the garden path. “Don’t you have class this afternoon?”

“Yeah, but it’s an econ lecture. I know a couple of people I can get notes from.”

“Alice, I don’t want your schoolwork to suffer because of Em’s condition. She wouldn’t want that, either.”

“I know. I wouldn’t skip class if it was an important one. I want to stay,” she said softly, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Okay,” he agreed, squeezing back before they let their hands drop. He was glad she wasn’t leaving. He liked having her here, especially when their grandmother was nearly her old self again. Days like today were increasingly rare. He knew they should be treasured.

The path meandered through lush landscaping back to the facility, and they took their time walking it. Edward filled in Alice on his birthday date with Bella, leaving out the private details. Alice told Edward a little more about Jasper - how he had considered a military career until a faint heart murmur was detected during his ROTC physical, and he didn’t make the cut. He chose to study his second love instead, mechanical engineering. Jasper Whitlock loved nothing more than to discover how things worked - to take them apart and figure out how to reconstruct them so they’d work better. He’d transferred to U-Dub to enroll in the mechanical engineering department’s energy research program.

“Sounds like he’ll have a solid career ahead of him,” Edward commented, hoping the twinge of envy he felt wasn’t evident. He’d often wished he had more of an aptitude for practical subjects in school - math, science, business - that led to lucrative careers. He'd managed to get good grades, but all he’d ever loved was music. He’d lived for the emotional release that flowed from his fingers every time he sat at a keyboard.

“What about you?” he asked his cousin. “How are your classes going? Have you found anything that piques your interest?”

“Well, I’m still getting all of the requirements out of the way,” Alice reminded him. “I’m sure it’s no surprise that I like my Principles of Design class the best. I always thought I’d like to go into fashion design, but now I’m kind of leaning toward interior design instead. I keep thinking of all the amazing things we could do to the house if we had the money.

“Don't give me that look, Edward,” she warned, glancing up at his perturbed expression. “I’m not talking about getting rid of your precious antiques. I’m talking about updating some of the other stuff - fabrics, accessories. You’d be surprised at how something as simple as new window treatments would brighten up the place.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. “That sounds like it came straight out of a textbook. Or HGTV.”

“Bite me,” she shot back. “Any fool can see that our house could use a little facelift.”

Edward was still amused. “Fine. I’ll see if Rosalie can throw me a little bonus money so you can go buy new curtains. If she comes up with a nice severance package, you can go hog wild.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Edward’s stomach sank at his blunder. Alice was quick to pick up on the slip.

“Severance package?” She turned to face him and came to a dead stop on the sidewalk, blocking his path. “Are you quitting Renaissance?”

He took a deep breath. “Maybe. Hopefully.”

She gaped up at him. “What do mean, ‘maybe?’ What’s going on with you, Edward?”

He let out a long breath. There was no point in keeping it from Alice, because she would find a way to coax, wheedle or badger it out of him eventually.

“I’m going to be playing in the contest this year.”

He knew he didn’t have to tell her which contest. She had been in the audience of the Seattle Piano Competition every other year from the ages of eight to fourteen, listening to him compete. They had missed the contest two years ago after the fallout from Emily’s mishap in the kitchen, and the chain of events that led to her admission here at Tranquility Gardens.

The phrase “lit up like a Christmas tree” came to mind as Edward watched Alice’s face transform. He didn’t have any more time to ponder her expression before she threw her arms around him, tackling him in a bear hug and screaming her approval. She began practically jumping up and down after he set her back on the sidewalk and told her to calm down.

“Don’t get your hopes up. I might not even place this year, I’m so out of practice.”

“There’s no way you won’t place. You placed almost every year you entered. But wait, how are you practicing? We don’t have a piano!”

Edward winced slightly. “I have a friend who does. I’ve been rehearsing there every day.”

Alice’s eyes narrowed at the word “friend.” “Oh, Edward. Please tell me you are not trading sexual favors for rehearsal time. I mean, if that’s the case, no wonder you never told any of us about the contest. I don’t know how Bella deals with what you do to begin with, but this . . .” She trailed off with a grimace.

“I am not trading anything for rehearsal time,” he assured her. “Well, maybe friendship. And a few card and chess games.” He sighed again at Alice’s skeptical look. “Okay, yes, Charlotte is one of my customers, but it’s not what you think. I’ve never slept with the woman. Our relationship is not sexual in nature at all. She’s older than our mothers would be, if they were still alive. I mean, if anything, I’m probably a surrogate son to her. She has no kids of her own. She had the means to get me into this contest, and she did it to surprise me, to help me get out of the escort business. I couldn’t look that gift horse in the mouth.”

He hated how cheap and tawdry his situation sounded when he said it out loud, and he hadn’t even told Alice about the monetary loan he’d accepted from Charlotte. Even though there was no sex involved, he’d never felt more like a kept man than he did right now, looking at the dubious expression on his cousin’s face.

“I don’t understand,” Alice said. “What’s in it for her? Why would she want to get you out of the escort business when she hires you for companionship?”

Edward shrugged, a little stumped himself. “I don’t know. Because we’re friends. I never really thought about it before, but that’s what we are. I’d still want to visit her even if I wasn’t escorting. I guess maybe she’s my surrogate mom as much as I am her son.”

Alice slowly nodded. “I guess I can see how that could happen. I always assumed that all of your dates revolved around sex, even though you claimed they didn’t. I just thought you were trying to protect me.”

“I’ll always try to protect you. But in this case, it really is true - a lot of my work situations don’t involve sex. And now, none of them do. Not since Bella.”

Alice’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? You’re not having sex with your customers anymore?” She stopped while he shook his head in answer. “Since when?”

“Since a couple of weeks ago.”

“Does Bella know that?”

He nodded. “I already told her I haven’t been with anyone but her since she spent the night at our house. But I told Rosalie about my stance on the matter yesterday, so now it’s official. I even have her blessing, sort of. If I can manage to keep the clients happy without the extra perks, Rose will keep me on for a few more weeks, until the contest. Then I’m hoping I can get some job offers that will allow me to walk away for good.”

Alice’s face brightened again. “Oh my God, Edward. This is what I’ve been praying for. And I’m not even sure I’m religious, but every time I think about whether or not there’s a God, I ask him to guide us, and help get you out of this mess.”

She hugged him again, and he had to admit to himself that it felt good to confide in her. “Bella must be so excited about this,” she exclaimed as she stepped back and let go of him.

“I think she’ll be more excited when I can tell her I’ve quit the business for good.”

“No, I mean about the contest. I’ll bet she can’t wait to hear you play.”

“She’s already heard me play. That’s kind of how we connected, actually.” He smiled at the memory of their first night. “But I haven’t told her about the contest. I want it to be a surprise.”

“Seriously?” his cousin exclaimed with a frown. “Don’t you want her to be there in the audience? I know she’d want to support you. She’ll be so mad if she misses your moment of triumph.”

“But I don’t know if it will be a moment of triumph,” he replied, his face grim. “I have no idea what will happen. And I can’t stand the thought of disappointing her.”

“You wouldn’t disappoint her,” Alice contradicted him. “You’re looking at this all wrong. She’ll be more disappointed if you don’t include her in your plans. She’ll want to be there for you, no matter what happens.”

“I suppose.” Edward grew silent as the truth hit him. He began walking again, gesturing for Alice to join him. “I think I’ll be more nervous if Bella is there. I feel like my entire future is riding on this one afternoon, and she’s a huge part of that. I’m already going to be under an enormous amount of pressure as it is. If she’s sitting there, watching me with those big brown eyes. . .” He trailed off, imagining the hope and expectation etched on face when he sat down to play. He couldn’t stand the thought of not living up to it.

“I know how nervous you get, Edward. I remember how you used to throw up before performances. But you played in public so much while you were at Juilliard, I thought you got past some of that anxiety. And you know Bella would never judge you. She loves you.”

He nodded. “I know. And what you’re saying makes sense. Maybe I will tell her. But if I do, I want to do it myself, so please don’t say anything in the meantime, okay?”

Alice let out an exaggerated sigh. He knew what a hardship keeping secrets was for her. “All right. It is your news to tell, not mine. It might kill me, but I will keep my mouth shut.”

“Thanks,” Edward said, relaxing a little. “She’s coming over tonight after she gets off work, so I’ll be putting your promise to the test.“

“Great,” she replied with a tinge of sarcasm. “No, that is great, actually. I’m glad she’s coming over. We need more hang time, the three of us. We can watch TV or play video games, you know, like normal kids. Unless you have other plans,” she added with the arch of one eyebrow.

“No, hang time sounds good. For a little while,” he added with a grin. He draped his arm around her shoulders as they walked. “Have I told you today that I love you?”

“No.”

“Okay, then. I love you, even if you make me crazy sometimes.”

“Ha!” she snorted. “I love you, too, even though you make me crazy most of the time.”

He laughed and let his arm drop as they approached the facility. His good humor began to turn to apprehension when they entered and headed down the hall toward Emily’s room. He hoped she would still be in good form when she awoke.

He knocked on the door a few times before opening it. “We’re back, Em. Are you awake?” he called softly.

“It’s just us, your grandkids,” Alice echoed behind him.

They entered the room to see Emily stir on the recliner, blinking and stretching a bit.

　
“Carlisle, is that you?” she asked, squinting up at the pair as she reached for the recliner handle in order to raise herself.

“No, Em, it’s me, Edward. Carlisle’s nephew,” he explained quietly. “I’m Elizabeth’s son, remember?” He felt Alice’s hand rest lightly on his back in reassurance.

“Elizabeth’s . . . what?” she exclaimed as the chair settled into an upright position. She glared up at Edward as if he was the one who had lost his senses. “What are you talking about, young man? My Elizabeth’s not old enough to have a child, let alone a grown son.”

“Em, your daughter is gone,” Alice interjected cautiously. “She died years ago, in a car accident with her husband, and your son, and his wife. They were our parents. Carlisle and Esme were my father and mother, remember? We’re your grandchildren. Edward, and Alice.” She pointed to her cousin, then herself.

Emily shook her head back and forth so quickly that she appeared to have palsy. “Where are you getting these crazy stories? Who are you - why are you trying to trick me with such lies?”

Alice gasped, her eyes growing round at the accusation. She’d never borne the brunt of one of her grandmother’s full-blown episodes before, and the shock of it froze her to the spot.

Edward was more used to Emily’s occasional outbursts. “We’re not trying to trick you,” he assured her in a soothing tone. “No one wants to hurt you, Em. We love you. Remember, you laid out these photographs of us earlier, in case you had trouble recognizing us. See?”

He leaned over the recliner, reaching across her for a picture of himself and Alice that lay on the end table. “Look, here we are, in the back yard of our house--”

A sudden crack of pain shot through Edward’s jaw, silencing him abruptly. His hand instinctively flew up to the injured spot as he gaped at his grandmother. She had never struck him before. Alice shrieked in surprise at the attack, while Emily continued her tirade.

“Don’t you come any closer, you thief! I’ll scream loud enough for this entire neighborhood to hear me, and the cops will be on you before you get ten feet away from this house. Don’t think I won’t! You won’t get a single piece of my family’s silver or jewelry while there’s breath left in my body!”

“I’m not a robber,” Edward protested weakly, rubbing his jaw. “I’m not going to take anything from you.”

“Damn right, you aren’t!” Emily hollered, swinging at him yet again as she lurched forward in her chair. He jumped back out of the way, nearly knocking Alice to the floor. She scrambled back toward the door to the hallway while Edward held his hands up in surrender.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly, searching his grandmother’s wild, frightened eyes for a glimpse of the woman he knew - the woman she’d made him promise to remember was in there somewhere.

Her body shook violently as she drew her fists into her chest and cowered back into the chair. Her face collapsed in confusion, eyes darting around the room as if looking for clues to make sense of what was happening.

“What’s going on?” she finally asked, her voice frail and tremulous. “What is this place?”

This is hell, Edward wanted to answer. He looked back at Alice, stiffened into a pillar of salt against the door, her hand glued to the knob, her eyes glued to Emily. He finally caught his cousin’s horrified gaze in his own. When he spoke, his voice was hushed in defeat.

“Go get the nurse,” he told her.

　

　

　

　

Chapter 39

The waiting room of Renaissance Escorts bore little resemblance to its owner.

Decorated in soothing shades of soft pink and cream with rich brown accents, this room was designed to convey sheer romance at every turn. Seasonal fresh-cut flowers in clear glass bowls adorned every flat surface, gossamer curtains filtered the gray Seattle sunlight, and fluffy accent pillows made the pale velveteen couch and chairs even more welcoming. The room managed to be modern and elegant, yet warm and comforting at the same time.

Rosalie Hale was none of these things.

Well, to be fair, she did dress in the latest styles, Edward conceded as he sat stiffly in one of the comfy chairs. And she did have a certain elegance in her carriage and demeanor. But she exuded precious little warmth or reassurance to clients, despite her bright smile and encouraging words.

At least, this had been Edward’s observation in his admittedly few personal interactions with his boss. He thought he’d seen a softening in her, though, since she and Emmett had become serious. Surely his friend’s innate good nature had rubbed off on her, and his fiery enthusiasm must have melted some of that icy exterior. Edward was counting on finally seeing the softer side of Rosalie Hale today. After all, Emmett had suggested this meeting between them in the first place, insisting that Rose might surprise him.

Edward shifted in his chair, growing more irritated by the second. She had already made him wait outside her office for a good five minutes now. When he arrived punctually, Tanya had raised her eyes from her computer long enough to inform him that their boss was on the phone, but he had his doubts. Making him wait was a classic power play.

Fine. Two could play that game. He assumed she wanted to ruffle him; put him on the defensive. He wouldn’t let her have the satisfaction. He just needed to keep his eyes on the prize: a future with Bella.

He closed his eyes for a moment and thought back to their morning together. His unhappy surprise at awaking cold and alone in the hotel bed had soon turned to delight when he’d spied her sitting in a chair she’d pulled up next to him, wrapped in a bathrobe, her new sketch pad and pencil in hand. He’d recognized them as the gifts Alice had picked out for her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, stifling a yawn.

“What does it look like?” she answered with a soft smile. “I’m trying to capture my new favorite subject.”

“Too late. You already caught me,” he informed her as he stretched his limbs a bit. “I just hope you don’t throw me back.”

“Not likely.” Her sweet lips stretched into a devilish smirk. “I’m much more likely to stuff you and mount you.”

“Funny, that’s exactly what I had in mind for you,” he shot back, grinning broadly. “Though not necessarily in that order.”

He watched her drawing hand move rapidly over the paper in short strokes, apparently shading in the sketch. Her eyes darted back and forth between his face and the page, studying, deconstructing, then reassembling with the pencil between her fingers. He propped his head up on one elbow and watched her intently for a few minutes. She finally stopped and leaned back in the chair, holding the sketch pad away from her to better appraise her work.

“Let me see,” he begged.

Her cheeks colored and she gave him a bashful look over the top of the sketch book. “It’s not quite finished,” she hedged. “You woke up right when I was getting all the details down.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure it’s great.”

She cringed a little. “Well, I tried. But I don’t think I could ever truly capture how beautiful you are.”

Her words shocked him into silence for a moment. He wanted to laugh at the notion, but something in her eyes sobered him. Last night, she told him that he’d made her feel beautiful when she thought she was ugly. Maybe it worked both ways.

He sat up and reached his hand out to her. “Let me see through your eyes, then.”

She bit her lip, then handed him the sketch book.

He turned it so that he could see her rendering of him. Yes, that was him all right, face half-hidden in the pillow as he lay slumbering on his side, one naked shoulder pushed up to his ear, hand clutching the covers under his chin. Bella had drawn his likeness in soft, feathery strokes mixed with hard, precise lines. Each eyelash, each hair of his thick brows was perfectly defined; even the stubble overtaking the lower part of his face was a study in coarse, lifelike detail. But she had molded his features in muted shades of gray so smooth that his skin looked like flawlessly sculpted stone.

This was a highly idealized version of the face he saw in the mirror each morning. It bore a remarkable resemblance to him, but in truth, she had not captured how beautiful he truly was - she had made him far more so than his reflection ever proved. She had created a paragon of perfection that was nothing like the fallible flesh and blood man he knew himself to be.

Was this how she saw him? How could he live up to an image such as this?

“You don’t like it,” she whispered.

Edward looked up at her stricken face and quickly reassured her. “No, that’s not true. It’s amazing. You never give yourself enough credit. You are incredibly talented. And I am incredibly flattered.” He glanced down at the skilled drawing, then gave her a rueful smile. “I just wish I could live up to this.”

Her elation at his praise quickly fizzled. “What do you mean, live up to it?”

“It’s just . . .” He paused and looked over the handsome guy sleeping so peacefully in Bella’s sketch. “You were so worried about capturing my supposed beauty that you kind of went overboard. I mean, you made me look like a GQ model or something.”

She didn’t join him in his chuckling. “I drew what I saw,” she defended herself quietly.

His smile faded. “That’s what I’m afraid of. That you don’t see me very clearly.”

She shook her head sadly. “Did you ever think that maybe you’re the one who doesn’t see yourself clearly?”

No. No, he didn’t think that. He saw himself all too well. That was the problem.

“Ms. Hale will see you now.” Tanya’s nasal announcement jarred him from his reverie.

Edward rolled his eyes at her formality. “Thank you,” he said curtly as he rose from the velvet chair and strode toward the gold-handled white door of Rosalie Hale’s inner sanctum.

The interior of this space suited its inhabitant much better. Varying shades of ice blue and cool aqua permeated the glass-and-chrome-filled room, matching the glacial smile frozen upon Rosalie Hale’s face.

“Good morning, Edward,” she greeted him from behind her glass-topped, snow-white desk. She didn’t rise to meet him, but held out one hand so that Edward could reach over to shake it.

“Rosalie,” he replied simply, taking a seat in the matching white chair facing the desk.

“You’re looking well,” she commented. She leaned her elbows on the desk and pressed her fingertips together, reminding Edward of a blonde praying mantis.

“As are you. Lovely as always,” he added for good measure. It was no lie. His boss was what most people would call a stunner, a voluptuous blonde with a toothpaste commercial smile and round, iris-colored eyes. The pale blue blouse she now wore made them all the more vivid as they gave him a dispassionate once-over.

Her smile deepened at the corners, dimpling her smooth, peach skin. The iris eyes were calculating despite the warmth of the smile below them. She appraised him the way one might judge a stallion for suitable stud service.

“Every time I see you, I’m reminded why you’re so popular with our clients. You’re almost prettier than they are . . . but not quite. You have just enough ruggedness to entice them, and just enough boyishness to disarm them. Not to mention commendable seduction skills, by all accounts.”

Edward tried not to wince at her assessment. It was a little too close to the one Bella had given him last night.

“I would hate to lose you,” Rosalie continued, cutting right to the chase. Her eyes seemed to search his for clues as to his intentions. “I think we’ve enjoyed a mutually beneficial arrangement for the past couple of years, and I value it highly. I hope you feel the same.”

Edward shifted in his seat, hoping his discomfort wasn’t as evident as he feared. He worked on keeping his congenial poker face intact.

“We’ve had a great run,” he conceded. “That I won’t deny. I appreciate the opportunities you gave me more than you know.”

“I know plenty, actually,” she informed him. “I had a pretty good idea why you came to me from the start, you know. Emmett was kind enough to fill in the blanks.”

“Was he?” Edward couldn’t help but bristle. He should have known his friend’s first loyalty would be to his new live-in girlfriend. But how much had he revealed?

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t betrayed your confidences,” she assured him. “He just gave me a little heads up about your financial situation, that’s all. I always guessed some family crisis forced you into this career choice. You obviously aren’t in it for the ego gratification or your love of women, though I don’t doubt your respect for the fairer sex. Which explains a good part of your success.”

“I would hope all of your employees have a healthy respect for women.”

“That’s the plan. I screen them as best I can. The proof is usually in the pudding, so to speak. If an escort doesn’t generate any repeat business, he won’t last long around here.”

Edward squirmed again. He took a deep breath and crossed his legs the other direction, then gave his boss a winsome smile. If she was about to give him an ultimatum, he wished she would come out with it.

Instead, she studied him coolly for a moment. She looked like she was waiting for something. He wished to God he knew what it was.

Finally, she leaned forward and crossed her arms on the desk. “You’re awfully quiet this morning, Edward. You called this meeting. You must have something you want to get off your chest, so let’s hear it.”

His smile turned wry. She was tossing the ball in his court. Fair enough, he was the one who had called her. He had just never expected her to stay mum about the complaints she must have received about his recent performance, or lack thereof.

“I guess I came here because I owe you an explanation. I’m sure my reviews have been . . . mixed, lately. I know I haven’t been leaving my clients satisfied in the way some of them might prefer.”

Rosalie’s eyebrow raised, but she remained silent. Edward cleared his throat to continue.

“And that particular dissatisfaction is likely to continue. There are certain expectations I will no longer be able to fill as a Renaissance Escorts employee,” he said carefully.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And what expectations are those, Edward?”

He emitted a short laugh. “You really want me to say it? Out loud?”

“Why not. Are you wearing a wire?” she retorted. “Unless you’re about to tell me you’re an undercover cop, I don’t think there’s anything we can’t discuss here.”

His laugh was genuine this time. “You know I’m not a cop. You can search me for a wire if you want.”

“Tempting, but there’s no need,” she replied with a grin. “Just come out and say it. You don’t want to fuck women for money anymore.”

He gaped at her for a moment, surprised not at her candor, but at her apparent calm. “Okay. I don’t want to fuck women for money anymore. I can’t.”

Edward slumped back in his chair as if a ten-ton weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. Unfortunately, his boss looked a bit as if it had just fallen on her.

She nodded slowly, raising one arm to rest her chin on her hand. “And when did you come to this epiphany?”

“A couple of weeks ago, I guess. I just got to the point where I couldn’t do it anymore.” He looked at Rosalie’s slight frown and added, “I’m sorry. I should have been upfront with you then.”

She appeared as if she was lost in thought for a moment. “I am curious as to what brought about this change. Even though I knew your heart was never in this business, you were always able to put aside any personal reservations and provide the fantasy our customers were looking for. That’s what I always heard, over and over. ‘He knows just what I need. He makes a good impression in public, and an even better one in private.’” She paused, her lips twisting in a wistful smile. “You always tuned right in to whatever they wanted and needed. What made you tune out?”

He was surprised at how easily the answer came. “I found someone who tuned in to me. So I let her. She was what I wanted and needed. And I hadn’t considered that in a very long time.”

Rosalie regarded him thoughtfully, drumming her fingers along her jaw a couple of times. “Was she a customer? Not that it matters. Or is any of my business.”

Edward nodded. “Bella.” He spoke it with a reverence that was not lost on his boss.

“Oh, is she the one who lost the earring, and you were so anxious to give it back to her in person?”

His nod confirmed it. “Surprised the hell out of me. I never saw her coming. Never imagined that kind of complication in my life. Now I can’t imagine my life without it.”

Rosalie’s smile was wry. “Occupational hazard, I suppose. Though I think most people in our line of work have little trouble separating business from their personal lives.” She leaned back in her chair then, letting out a sigh. “But maybe that’s not true. Who in this business isn’t doing it for personal reasons, of one kind or another? They need the money, or they’re looking for something. Maybe escaping something.” Her eyes hardened for a moment, and she reached for a mug of coffee resting on a nearby electric warmer. “Can I get you a cup?” she offered, reverting back to her usual emotionless smile.

“No, thanks.” Edward studied the mask of pleasantry over her rigid posture, and he wondered what nerve had just been struck.

“Well, I fell into the first category,” he said. “I needed the money. What about you? How did you end up here, Rosalie?”

She didn’t seem affronted by his audacity. She merely gave him that humorless grin again before taking a couple sips of coffee and returning the mug to her desk. “I’m sure a shrink would have a heyday with me and my motivations. Why did I become a madam?” she pondered aloud, her tone almost mocking. “I enjoy the money, but I can’t say that was my primary motivation. I would say control is what attracted me to it the most. Control, with maybe a little slice of revenge on the side. Revenge is a dish best served cold, you know.”

Edward frowned at her, wanting to probe further, but unsure he was ready to hear the rest of her story.

Her smile was brittle, her voice eerily calm. “Of course, I’ll never have revenge on the ones who really deserve it. I’d have to be able to remember who they are for that. I barely remember what they did to me. Rohypnol - or whatever they slipped in my drink - has that unfortunate side effect.”

Edward’s eyelids squeezed shut in denial for a second. He felt sick. “Bastards,” he hissed under his breath. He opened his eyes and looked into hers - really looked at her for the first time. “You should have reported it. The cops could have found them. Made them pay.”

“Maybe,” Rose answered doubtfully. “I’m sure I should have done a lot of things. Admitted that it even happened. Reported it. Gone for counseling sooner than I did. But when you’re young and naïve, you worry that you brought it on yourself by sneaking out of your parents house to go to a college party you didn’t tell them about. You’re afraid that no one will believe you. That they’ll label you a slut for the rest of your high school career. So you ignore it and hope it will go away. It never really does, of course. And then, eventually, that festering inner trauma might manifest itself in a career choice that allows you to control men and their sexual habits like puppets on strings, while keeping yourself safe from their advances.

“Until the day, of course, that someone gets past your armor and under your skin. Someone who actually makes you want his advances instead of fearing them. Someone who makes you jealous of every woman you ever made him dance for.” She paused again, her eyes far away. A soft smile had replaced her sneer. Edward knew that Emmett had put that smile there. Emmett, with his imposing features and intimidating stature, hiding a heart of gold.

“I had no idea,” Edward said quietly. “I always tried to understand what the attraction was between you two, but he never let on. Never alluded to anything like what you went through. I’m so sorry, Rosalie. Truly.”

“Don’t be. It was years ago. I knew Emmett would never spill my secrets. He’s as trustworthy as the day is long. I had to work at him for two years to get him to reveal even an inkling of what was going on with you. I still don’t know anything beyond a sick grandmother, a big house and a lot of bills. But it was enough to know you wouldn’t last in this business.

“Still, I hoped to get more out of you than two years,” she said wistfully. “You could have been a successful escort for many years to come. You’re not even twenty-five - you haven’t peaked yet. Not even close.”

His huffed a small, perfunctory laugh. “That’s flattering, I suppose.” His expression turned grim. “So that’s it, then? You’re letting me go?”

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Isn’t that why you’re here? To give your notice?”

“Yes. And no.” He raked his hand anxiously through his hair. “I’d like to stay on a bit longer, if the sex isn’t a deal breaker.”

Her forehead creased in confusion. “I don’t understand. What are you proposing?”

He took a deep breath. “The truth is, I need the money for a little while longer. I have an opportunity that may get me back into playing music, which was always my first love; but it’s over a month away. I’d like to give more than two weeks’ notice, if you’d be willing to keep me on the payroll.”

He swallowed back the bile that had risen in his throat. He hated asking her for an extension like that. He hated that he needed to.

Rosalie was still frowning when she replied. “I’d love nothing more than to keep you on the payroll, Edward. But you’ve kind of put me between a rock and a hard place here. As you’re fully aware, I can’t require you to provide sex to our customers, any more than I can promise it to them. I like keeping this business on the right side of the law, at least as far as technicalities go. But bad word of mouth is a killer for me. If word gets around that my escorts don’t deliver, you’d best believe our clients will find ones who do. How can I in good conscience schedule you for dates when I risk losing every single one of those women if they were after a service you no longer provide?”

Edward grimaced, sighing in frustration. “You know your clientele better than anyone else does. Schedule me on dates with the least likelihood of sex being involved. Social functions, parties, reunions. A lot of women don’t want anything more than a public appearance, and you know I’m more than up to that challenge.”

He cringed at the desperation that had crept into his voice. He despised being beholden to anyone, and the piteous look on his boss’s face only made it worse. First Charlotte, now Rosalie. If he had a scrap of savings in the bank to live on, he would get up and walk out of this office right now.

Rosalie sighed and turned to the laptop computer on her desk, pulling up Edward’s schedule for the month. “This coming weekend should be fairly safe - a business dinner Friday, then another reunion Saturday. I had planned to send you to Portland next weekend,” she informed him as she scrolled through the calendar. “Your regulars there are missing you. But I know why they’re missing you, so that’s problematic, at best.”

He knew exactly to whom she was referring, and she was right. She pressed her lips together and scrolled some more. “Well, if I skip the Portland trip, I can send you to another one of those silly college parties instead. I had a Jessica Stanley call just yesterday, quite insistent that you be the one to escort her to some big Greek system gala at the Four Seasons. That sounds like a ‘make my ex-boyfriend jealous’ occasion if I’ve ever heard one.”

Edward smiled in relief. “Definitely. I’m sure I can handle that one.”

Rosalie looked up at him, her own smile now a genuine one. He thought this might be the first time he’d seen a glimpse of the real Rosalie Hale, and it was an eye opener. He should have trusted Emmett’s choice in women a little better.

“All right, then. We’ll play it by ear for now,” she offered. “No expectations, but no guarantees, either. I’ll do my best to make this work for both of us a little while longer. If it doesn’t, maybe I can come up with a severance package that will alleviate your worries a little.”

“Thanks,” Edward said quietly, humbly. “I appreciate that.”

The two were rising from their chairs and shaking hands when Tanya’s voice interrupted from the phone intercom on Rosalie’s desk.

“James Hunter is here to see you.”

Rose pressed her finger to the intercom and replied, “Send him in.” Then, to Edward she added, “Maybe this is a good thing. You’re leaving some very lucrative regulars in the lurch, but something tells me James will be more than happy to help pick up the slack.”

Edward knew he should have been thrilled at the prospect. But when his fellow escort graced them both with a smarmy grin upon entering the room, Edward felt some misgivings. Despite the Mr. Sensitive Ponytail Man demeanor, something about James Hunter struck him as disingenuous, at best. He remembered Emmett calling the guy a weasel, but he’d seemed more worried about Felix than James. Edward just hoped that Rosalie’s stringent screening process hadn’t missed something in either one of them.

“The infamous Edward Cullen,” James said, holding his hand out in greeting. Edward resisted wiping his palm on his pants after their handshake. “Good to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Edward replied, forcing a smile. “Though I’m not sure what I’m infamous for.”

“Really?” James said, his incredulity almost sounding genuine. “Surely you know how legendary you are at this agency. No one has reached your level of popularity with the ladies at such a young age. You leave the rest of us fighting over your scraps just to eke out a living.”

Edward recoiled inwardly at the man’s callousness. “I’m sure you exaggerate,” he said. Before James could offer a rebuttal, he turned to their boss.

“Thanks again, Rosalie. For everything. You won’t regret it.”

She nodded and gave him another rare genuine smile. Edward watched it morph quickly to rigid plastic as she brightly greeted Mr. Hunter and asked him to have a seat.

.

.

.

Edward’s thoughts were consumed with Bella as he drove out of the downtown parking garage and headed for Charlotte’s estate. He was still trying to reconcile himself to the truth of the portrait Bella had drawn of him earlier, as inaccurate as it looked to his own judgmental eyes. James’s absurd statements about his “legendary” status at Renaissance Escorts made him wonder if Bella was right - that he didn’t see himself clearly.

He saw himself through the lens of familiarity. There was obviously a reason the idiom “familiarity breeds contempt” existed, since fault-finding was his first reaction when forced into self-examination.

This James Hunter character apparently saw him through the eyes of envy. Well, that wouldn’t last much longer. Mr. Not-So-Sensitive Ponytail Man would soon be the happy beneficiary of Edward’s impending resignation from the world of escorting.

So would Bella, and that was all he really cared about. He was one step closer to the life he wanted. And when he thought of what she meant to him what she did for him, it hit him again exactly how she saw him.

She saw him through the eyes of love.

He knew very well how that filter altered everything. Every perception, every desire, every goal. Love made him feel more, want more, try harder. Love made the effort worth it. Bella made everything worth it.

He’d come to that realization earlier, looking at that sketch she’d drawn of him. Much like her poem, it suddenly became the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen expressed on a piece of paper.

She’d drawn him in the image of her love for him.

He replayed their morning together once more, starting where he had left off before his meeting with Rosalie.

He blinked back the moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes as he looked up at Bella. He laid the sketch book on the bed and reached over to grab her hand, pulling her toward him. She happily traded the chair for the bed, sitting down beside him. He took her face in his hand and traced his thumb over her features. His feelings for her painted her in incomparable beauty to him.

“I love how you see me.” He paused, running his fingers over her deliciously plump lower lip. “I love you,” he said for at least the twentieth time since he’d first uttered the words last night. They still had not lost their luster or their novelty. He still felt the thrill of those three syllables as intensely as the first time.

She seemed to feel it, too. She said it back, immediately; and then they dissolved in another kiss. How many kisses had they shared in the last twenty-four hours? Their lips should be raw. But their hunger was insatiable, so they continued to taste one another. She claimed she missed the taste of him in her mouth - it was the one of the few sexual acts they hadn’t engaged last night. The next thing he knew, she was kissing her way down his torso, licking and nipping the soft skin of his belly until she reached the stiffening skin of his cock. Her mouth and hands took him the rest of the way there in no time.

“I love watching you get hard for me,” she whispered, her breath hot on his sex. Her eyes were that magical mixture of love and lust as they met his. “I love the way it feels.”

She wrapped her fingers around his length and flicked her tongue around his swelling head before pressing it into his slit.

“If you want me hard, then let me see you,” he murmured, pushing the terry cloth from her shoulders. She quickly undid the tie on the robe and shrugged it off, her back arching and bare breasts rising as she did so. His cock bounced upward in response, and they both laughed. The laughter stopped when she leaned forward and pressed it between her breasts, squeezing them around it so he could pump its length up and down her breastbone. She tucked her chin and began lapping at the tip of his cock with her tongue every time he thrust, until finally he gave up and simply plunged into her mouth, groaning when she opened her throat to swallow him deep.

She continued teasing him this way for what seemed like an eternity, yet still passed in the blink of an eye. Her mouth and hands were everywhere, licking, sucking, stroking. She wrapped her lips around his sac, pulling one ball at a time into her mouth and sucking rhythmically until she made him moan. Then she cupped one hand beneath them, massaging the root of his cock while taking the rest in her mouth, pushing her lips down as she pushed his balls up. She continued massaging and deep-throating him this way until he was close to erupting. He warned her, as he always did; and she responded only by stilling her lips around him to allow the exquisite release of his seed deep in her mouth. And then, while he gasped and tortured her hair between his fingers, she opened her mouth and let his cum pour out, rolling down the length of him while she lapped it back up and swallowed.

He could find no words to tell her how hot that was; what the sight of it did to him. How could he tell her how much he loved her after she’d sucked him off, without it sounding like he was only appreciative of the blow job? How could he ever describe how much more it meant - how much more she meant - than that? He’d felt it the first time she ever went down on him. It was the first time she’d done that to any man, and she chose him. It was an honor, a privilege, as much now as it was then. Maybe more so, now that the novelty was gone. She still chose him. Still wanted to please him. Still loved him.

He gazed at Bella’s graphite version of Sleeping Beauty after she left him to get a glass of water. The sketch on the bed next to him taunted him, mocking him somehow. Her vision of him was peaceful. Calm. He rarely felt that way. One worry or another had nagged at him for as long as he could remember.

But maybe he was finally finding peace in her. He felt a semblance of it now, settling in his bones as the euphoria of his climax dissipated.

“Here, I thought you might want one, too.” He looked up to see Bella approaching with two glasses of water. She handed one to him as she sat down next to him on the bed.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice coming out a whisper. He looked into her curious brown eyes, and knew his own must be heavy with the countless emotions he couldn’t put names to. He had to put a voice to them, somehow, even if the words felt short.

“No one has ever made me feel the way you make me feel. I love you . . . But it’s so much more than that.” He reached out to touch her hair, to comb through the silky, messy strands. “You’re the most beautiful thing in the world to me.”

She bit her lip slightly, in that way he loved so much. Then she nodded in understanding, and he knew she got it. Felt it, deep inside, the way he did.

He set his jaw in determination as he drove toward Charlotte’s and the Steinway awaiting him. His life still swirled with unknowns; uncertainties that made true peace of mind elusive. But there was one thing he did know for sure.

He would spend the rest of his life making sure Bella Swan saw herself the way he did.