Chapter 21

Bella managed to maintain a euphoric high for most of the afternoon.

The book store was swamped with customers, leaving her little time to ponder the events of the morning. Yet they colored her every action, making her beam at her customers with a warmth and enthusiasm she’d never managed before. She couldn’t match their grumpiness as they forked over exorbitant amounts of money for text books and other class-related supplies. She was too giddy at the memory of Edward’s hungry kisses, longing stares and heartfelt words to feel anything but happy.

She knew, deep down, that this happiness was built on a foundation of sand, just like the castles created by the children in the park. But she wasn’t ready to come down from her tower just yet. After all, her prince had scaled some impressive heights so far to reach her. Now all they had to do was face the monsters waiting for them the minute they attempted a descent from their fairytale world.

“Bella? Ohmygod! I totally forgot you were working at the book store.”

Jarred from her fantasy, Bella jumped at the sound of a familiar, slightly grating voice from her past. She looked up at the familiar brown curls, blue eyes and enormous jugs of her high school “frenemy,” Jessica Stanley.

“Hey, Jess, how are you doing?”

“I’m great! How are you? You look great,” Jessica replied with typical overbearing zeal as she hefted a giant armful of books onto the counter.

“So do you. I’m really good, thanks. Did you just get here?”

“No, I’ve been in Seattle for over a week now, for sorority rush. We found some really cool girls to pledge this year. You really should have gone through rush week, Bella. I made so many great friends last year by joining Grab-A-Thigh-Later.” Bella blinked, wondering what she’d just heard, because it couldn’t have been that. She realized she really ought to brush up on the Greek alphabet.

“That’s great. I just don’t know if the Greek system is really my thing, you know?” She busied herself scanning Jessica’s books, which, from the looks of the titles, revealed that she was either majoring in business administration or interior design, maybe both.

“You’d be surprised. There are sororities and fraternities for every type of personality, even yours.”

Bella blanched and raised an eyebrow at Jessica’s back-handed insult, but her high school friend seemed oblivious to the slight.

“So where are you living this year, then? Still in the dorms?” she continued.

“I’m in McMahon this year,” Bella told her. “But I have a single, so at least I can get some studying done without having to go to the library all the time.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I’m living in the Grab-A-Thigh house this year with my sisters. It’s gonna be so-o-o much fun, I can’t even wait! Our house isn’t that far from the north dorms, so maybe we’ll see each other more often. Our dorms were clear across campus from each other last year,” Jessica lamented, as if that had actually been a hardship for her. About a month into freshman year, she’d dropped Bella like a hot potato after pledging her sorority. Not that Bella had minded that much, since her friendship with Jessica had been strained ever since she’d been Mike Newton’s choice for prom date senior year. Jess had kept her unrequited crush on Mike to herself, so how was Bella supposed to know that accepting his invitation would be such a blow?

She seemed to be reading Bella’s thoughts right now about their high school classmate. “Did you know Mike transferred here this year?” she asked as she pulled her wallet out of her purse.

“Yeah, I saw him a couple of nights ago. He looked good. He seems to be really into the whole forestry thing,” Bella commented as she swiped Jessica’s student ID through the magnetic sensor on the register.

Jessica’s eyes narrowed the minute Bella mentioned that Mike looked good. “He does look good, doesn’t he? I think it’s all that fresh Arctic air, you know? Turns the boys into men.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Bella said with a shrug. “I think he just looks happy, like he knows what he wants to do with his life.”

“Well, that too, obviously,” Jess agreed, giving Bella a look like she was a simpleton. “Did you know he and his roommates are having a party tonight? He texted me this afternoon. Did he invite you, too?” She looked a little like she hoped the answer would be “no.”

“I don’t know, I haven’t had a chance to check my phone since this morning.”

“Oh, well, you should totally come anyway. I mean, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“Yeah, that’d be fun,” Bella said, rather unconvincingly.

“Great! So maybe I’ll see you later, then?” Jessica’s tone was equally insincere.

“Definitely. I’ll stop by.” She already knew it was the last thing she wanted to do after her eight-hour shift.

“Cool,” Jessica gushed as she picked up her book bags. Just as she was about to leave, she stopped and turned back. “You know, I’m really glad to see you’re doing okay after that whole debacle with Jacob Black at La Push. I told you at the beginning of the summer not to waste your time hanging out with a high school guy. I mean, how immature did he end up being? You had to be SO embarrassed at that party. I was, like, second-hand dying inside for you. But I’m sure you’re totally over it now, right? Upward and onward!”

“Right.” Bella could feel her smile twist bitterly, and she clamped her lips together to keep from telling her old friend what she thought of her advice and her fake condolences. Instead, she kept her tight-lipped smile intact and waved good-bye as Jessica took her book bags and thankfully left the building.

Her euphoric cloud slightly deflated, Bella switched to book-bagging for awhile and tried not to wonder what Edward was doing. It was nearing dinner time, and she imagined that he was now impeccably decked out in a suit and tie, hair moussed into disheveled perfection, escorting some unknown 28-year-old to her tenth class reunion. By the time the head cashier dismissed Bella for a half-hour dinner break, she was as cranky as the customers. She hoped some food would help.



As she stood in the bookstore café queue to order a sandwich, she dug her phone out of her backpack and checked for missed calls. She chuckled at the discovery of a text message from Mike, asking her to his dorm-warming party that night. But her heart leapt with elation at the sight of another text from a brand-new but already well-known phone number.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she pressed the button to read Edward’s message:

Bella, sorry to bother you, but there’s something missing from my day planner. Please give me a call when you get a chance. ~Edward

It wasn’t exactly the “I miss you already, I have to see you again” plea that she was hoping for, but under the circumstances, she’d take it. She wondered what on earth he could be talking about - something missing from his appointment book? The only thing she’d found was a pen, tucked inside the front cover. Other than that, it contained nothing but spiral-bound pages, and she certainly hadn’t removed any of them, despite the brief urge she’d had to tear them to shreds and use them as kindling for a garbage can bonfire.

She was suddenly impatient for the line of people ahead of her to move so she could get her dinner, find a place to sit and call Edward back. The seven minutes it took to accomplish the feat felt like hours while she tapped her toe, crossed her arms, sighed and ruffled her hair repeatedly until it was her turn to order.

Cashew chicken croissant and soda in hand, she zoomed toward an empty corner table and pulled out her phone before she’d even bothered to unwrap her sandwich. Edward answered after two rings. His tone was warm and familiar, putting her at ease.

“Hey,” he said. “Thanks for calling me back.”

She heard him excuse himself from his date, telling her this was “an important call;” then the background noise of people milling around faded. She’d obviously interrupted some kind of class reunion cocktail hour.

“Of course I called you back,” she told him. “But I don’t understand your message. There was nothing in your day planner but a pen. What is it that’s gone missing?”

He was silent for a beat, and her stomach tensed in apprehension. “You’re sure you didn’t see anything else? Could you check your backpack for me?”

“Sure,” she agreed, reaching over and unzipping the nylon bag so she could rummage through its contents. “It would help if you could tell me exactly what I’m looking for.”

“It’s. . . kind of a bookmark.” He sounded sheepish, though she couldn’t comprehend why.

“A bookmark. Hmm, I’m not finding anything. What does it look like?”

“It’s got a four-leaf clover on it.” He was so quiet, she could barely hear him.

She shuffled through her wallet, a couple of paperback books, make-up, hair-bands, breath mints and sticky notes, but came up empty. “I’m sorry, I don’t see anything like that.”

He was silent again, and she could definitely feel the tension coming through the phone. She imagined the pensive look on his face as he let out a long breath.

“What about the purse you were carrying last weekend? Did you look in there?”

“No, but I haven’t really cleaned it out since then. I’ll dump it out as soon as I get back to the dorm tonight. Maybe your bookmark fell out and is buried there. It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened. My purse is like a black hole - that’s why I never use the thing,” she told him, adding an encouraging laugh at the end.

“Okay. I’d appreciate that, thanks. Just let me know if you find it, okay?”

“Sure, of course.” She was a little surprised that Edward was superstitious enough to get so worked up over the loss of a good-luck charm, but if that was his worst flaw, then she was lucky.

Of course, that wasn’t his worst flaw. There was also the ugly fact that he frequently boned other women for money. She cringed at the thought.

“So how’s the reunion going?” she asked, trying to keep the bitterness from her tone.

“Oh, it’s going swimmingly,” he replied in a slightly sardonic tone. His voice took on a nasal quality as he continued, “My name is Brock Lundquist and I’m a venture capitalist. Here, let me give you my card - oh, damn, I must have left them in my other jacket. I don’t give financial tips outside the office, but give me your name and number and we can talk stocks sometime.”

Bella couldn’t help but laugh. “Seriously? You made up an alias for tonight?”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t come up with that shit. My client did. It’s not the first time. Reunions are the worst. I was an up-and-coming racecar driver at the last one, if you can imagine that.”

“Wow. That’s. . .” She couldn’t come up with the appropriate response. “That sucks.”

Edward laughed. “Yes. Yes, it does. On the upside, however, it’s only 6:30 p.m. and my date is already drinking heavily and combing the place for her high school boyfriend. With any luck, she’ll either hook up with him or pass out entirely before eleven so I can make my escape.”

“Really?” Bella tried not to sound too desperately hopeful. “You think that could happen?”

They both knew what she was really asking. “Oh yeah, definitely,” Edward assured her. “It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened, either. Not that I encourage over-imbibing. But I don’t police anyone, either. She’s a big girl - she can make her own decisions.”

“You’d do well to remember that,” Bella reminded him, thinking of their conversation that morning.

“I’m trying,” he said, and his tone told her he got her meaning.

“So am I,” she answered sadly. She hated the thoughts flooding her head right now. What did Edward’s date look like? Was she at all attractive? Did she want to sleep with him? Maybe she wasn’t interested in sex, since she’d apprently hired him primarily to make her old boyfriend jealous. But once she spent some time with him, how could she NOT want to sleep with him? Edward was too sexy for his own good, and no one knew this better than Bella.

The irony was cold comfort. She could only pray that he was right, and the woman would be too sloshed for sex later on. But she had her doubts about that.

“I should go,” he said, sounding regretful.

“Yeah. Me, too.” Her regret was equal to his. “I’ll call you later if I find your bookmark.”

“Thanks. Call me either way, okay? I’d welcome the distraction.”

She smiled a little at that. “I will.”

She glanced at her watch as she hung up the phone - two more hours until she was officially done for the day and could go back to the dorm. She was dying to dig through her purse to see if she had the item Edward was looking for. She hoped to God she did, for it would be another guarantee that she would see him again soon.

The minutes dragged, but eventually one-hundred and twenty of them has passed, and her manager told her to clock out for the night. She raced back to the tiny space she called “home” as fast as her rusty old truck would allow, then made a beeline for her closet to retrieve the bottomless pit she called a purse. She dumped its contents onto on her bed and began combing through the debris for buried treasure.

It didn’t take long to spot what she was looking for. It stood out like a sore thumb from the pile of old receipts and gum wrappers. Edward’s four-leaf clover was not some simple dried specimen glued to a piece of cardboard. Instead, it was carefully affixed to the lower right corner of a heavy, oblong piece of watercolor paper with artfully frayed edges. The now-faded clover was meant to be the foreground object in a beautiful miniature painting of a sunny meadow landscape. Fascinated, Bella examined the exquisite rendering of the scene: broad washes of watercolor created the background, while meticulous details were added later in much smaller brushwork. A field of green, dotted with clover and other wildflowers, led to an ornate bridge over a placid stream, which was painted to mirror the gold and azure sky above.

And on that celestial background was written a poem, in small, elegant calligraphy:

I know a place where the sun is like gold,

And the cherry blooms burst with snow,

And down underneath is the loveliest nook,

Where the four-leaf clovers grow.

One leaf is for hope, and one is for faith,

And one is for love, you know,

And God put another in for luck—

If you search, you will find where they grow.

But you must have hope, and you must have faith,

You must love and be strong – and so—

If you work, if you wait, you will find the place

Where the four-leaf clovers grow. *

Bella stared at the art piece in her hand with a mixture of surprise and heartache. What a strange thing for a grown man to be carrying around with him. There was no denying how beautiful the artwork was, and though the poem was a bit old-fashioned and syrupy, the message itself was lovely. Obviously this “bookmark,” as he’d referred to it, had some significance to him, or he wouldn’t have sounded so anxious to have it back. She peered at the paper for clues, and finally found her answer. Down in one corner, nearly buried in a sea of watercolor clover, was a tiny signature:

~E. Masen

And suddenly, it all made sense. His grandmother must have painted this - perhaps she’d even written the poem. As family heirlooms went, this was a keeper. No wonder he’d been so upset to think it was lost.

Bella reached for her backpack and dug out her cell phone. She deliberated: call, or text? He did say he’d welcome the interruption, but she was afraid of what she might interrupt. The phone read 8:30 p.m. Surely they wouldn’t be doing much but chatting or dancing, or playing some lame “remember when?” game.

The phone rang several times before going to voicemail. Disappointed, Bella left a short message. “You’re in luck - literally. I found your four-leaf clover. Why didn’t you tell me it was a painting by your grandmother? It’s really beautiful. Anyway, I have it, so just let me know if you want to meet somewhere again so I can give it back to you.”

She hung up, feeling oddly rejected, even though it was probably just too noisy for Edward to hear his phone. Her heart sank as she realized that this was how it would be almost every night if she were to get involved with him. Wondering what he was doing, and with whom. Trying to swallow the inevitable backwash of bile when she thought back to what her night with him entailed, knowing that sort of intimacy might be on the menu again tonight, for some other girl.

There was nothing she could do about it now. Nothing except get the hell out of this tiny, claustrophobic room before she drove herself crazy. Suddenly, Mike’s party suddenly didn’t sound like such a bad idea after all.

Bella checked his text message again for the room number, then went to the closet to find something suitable to wear to get mind-numbingly drunk at a dorm party on a Friday night.

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.