Chapter 26

How were your classes today?

Bella grinned as broadly at the text message on her phone today as she had every other day this week. It arrived at approximately 4:45 p.m. Thursday, just as it had on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Edward was nothing if not methodical.

They were good, she typed, thumbs flying over the tiny keyboard. Same as Tuesday’s classes, you realize. But less overwhelming since I knew what to expect.

The first week of class is always the hardest, he replied.

I know. Feels like an insurmountable pile of homework when I look at the syllabus for the whole semester. But I always manage to get it all done.

My cousin is a freshman, so she’s feeling overwhelmed, too. I reminded her it takes a little time to get into the routine. You’re both smart girls - you’ll do fine.

Thanks for the vote of confidence, Bella answered. She was dying to ask Edward if Alice had mentioned meeting her, but since Alice hadn’t called her yet and Edward never brought it up, she assumed the answer was “no.”

Edward’s next message made a little surge of excitement rush through her. Do you have to work all weekend?

No, I have Sunday off. She had intended to use that time to study, but if Edward had any other ideas in mind, she’d crack the books the rest of the weekend instead. She wasn’t interested in repeating last weekend’s party fiasco anyway, so laying low Friday and Saturday night didn’t sound like a bad idea.

Really? I‘m free Sunday, too. Do you want to get together? We could go to a movie or something - whatever you like.

The adrenaline was pumping through Bella’s veins full throttle now. Sounds great. If it’s nice we could go to the park again, or the beach. Didn’t your profile say you enjoy running on the beach? I don’t run, per se, but I’d be happy to watch you do it. I could time you on a stopwatch or something.

She paused to imagine the lean muscles of Edward’s legs pumping up and down in slow motion, Baywatch style, kicking sand up behind him. Her mind was still preoccupied when the phone buzzed with his incoming text.

Either one sounds good to me. But if I’m running, you’re running with me.

Ugh. How about a leisurely stroll, then?

You’re forcing me to type “LOL.” I hate that. Strolling it is. I’m going to spend the next few days imagining you strolling in a bikini. Please tell me you’ll be wearing one.

Bella would have stood up and done a euphoric little dance if she wasn’t sitting on a bench in the middle of the busy quad.

Fine. I’ll wear my bikini if you wear your little black Speedo, she typed back, chuckling to herself. She laughed even harder at how long it took him to reply.

You’re kidding, right?

What do you think?

I think you’re in for a soaking when I toss you in the Sound.

Bring it on, Cullen. I’m not afraid of you.

You may live to regret that, Ms. Swan. What time shall I pick you up?

From my dorm, or to toss me into the Sound?

Your dorm. I’ll definitely be employing the element of surprise for the latter.

Any time is fine, she replied, laughing giddily and not caring who heard. She wanted to tell him to come first thing in the morning so they could spend as much time together as possible, but she didn’t want to sound too pathetic and needy.

How about 1:00 p.m.? I thought we could grab some dinner later, too - after you‘ve dried off.

Her leg began bouncing up and down with anticipation as she typed. Sounds great. But if you try to dunk me in that icy water, I’m dragging you down with me.

I look forward to seeing you try.

I look forward to seeing you, period. So much for not sounding desperate.

Me too. Trust me on that.

She did trust him on that, foolish as that might be. She knew if she was counting on logic to guide her in this unorthodox relationship she was forming with Edward, she was doomed to failure. Logic would have dictated that she abandon the idea the day after he accomplished what she paid him to. But rational thinking had nothing to do with the emotions seizing her every time she saw him or even thought about him. If she couldn’t walk away, then she had no choice but to follow her heart for as long as she was able.

She had already run the gamut of emotions over the past week while she considered whether or not she could deal with what Edward did for a living. She figured she’d already hit rock bottom last weekend, from her behavior at the party and the mortifying hangover it caused her, to her failed date with Mike and her late-night anxiety over the course Edward’s date had taken.

Sunday was a little better, since she had work to distract her. And of course there was the pleasant surprise of meeting Edward’s cousin Alice, who seemed nice, if a bit of a trip. Bella had the feeling she would like her if she got the chance to know her. She was a little disappointed that Alice hadn’t contacted her yet. She looked forward to being able to talk to someone, anyone, about Edward. Heaven knows she wasn’t about admit to her mom and dad what she’d done, and her best friend from high school, Angela, was still in Europe studying at the Sorbonne.

Bella was grateful when classes started on Monday, because her concentration was consumed by lectures, note-taking, required reading and homework. She didn’t have time to think about what Edward was doing, and each day that passed without seeing him made the wondering a little easier to handle, and the worrying a little less.

But she knew that once she saw him again, the hunger and yearning for him would ignite deep in her belly once more. It still visited her in the wee hours of the night, prompting her to stoke it, then extinguish it, with her own probing fingers in the absence of his. She refused to look at the contents of the pink plastic baggy, let alone use them. She would wait for the real thing.

And now, happily, she had a deadline for her waiting to be through. Two days and twenty hours, to be exact.

She settled back on the bench and pulled her art history textbook out of her backpack. She opened it to chapter one and was greeted with photographs of the first known sculpture of a human figure, the Venus of Hohle Fels, which predated the previously known oldest carving, the Venus of Willendorf. Small but explicit depictions of the nude female form, both were thought to have been created as fertility symbols by primitive peoples tens of thousands of years ago.

Some things never changed, it seemed. As she studied the photos of the crude renderings, she understood her own desires a little better. What she felt for Edward was as primal and enduring as these miniature stone tributes to the power and importance of sex. The ancient urge to mate was what had driven her to seek him out in the first place.

But there was something more than sex pulling her back to him, and obviously something beyond sex drawing him to her. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be going to the effort to see her again. She would have to concentrate on the attraction they shared beyond the physical if she were to continue seeing Edward. She needed to know more about him - his history, his motivations, his goals, his dreams. She wanted more than just the glimpses he’d given, or she’d managed to steal. She wanted his whole story, past and present. But most of all, she wanted his future.

She only wondered if she could survive the journey to get there.

# # # # # # # # # #

“So,” Alice mumbled through a generous mouthful of blueberry pancakes. “I met your friend Bella the other day at the book store.”

She flashed Edward a quick glance across the breakfast bar to make sure he looked as startled and guilty as she expected him to. Then she blithely turned her attention to her glass of orange juice, taking a gulp to wash down her food before spearing another forkful of pancakes.

“You met Bella?” he echoed warily, waiting until he’d swallowed his own mouthful before speaking. He knew his cousin had gone to the U-Dub book store on Sunday, and it was now Friday morning. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I was waiting to see if you’d mention her again. You actually looked happy for once before you went to see her, but then you never said another word about her. I guess you aren’t as into her as she is you.”

She shrugged nonchalantly and sipped more orange juice while she waited for him to take the bait.

“How do you know - “ he began, then started over. “What did she say that made you think she‘s into me?”

Alice laughed. “She didn’t have to say anything. Her face turned ten shades of red when I told her how happy you looked last Friday morning before you met her for breakfast - happier than I‘d seen you in a long time.”

She smiled sweetly at her cousin and watched his own face color.

“You told her that? Thanks. That was subtle.”

Her grin only stretched wider. “You’re welcome. You know I don’t believe in subtlety. It’s the seed that sprouts miscommunication and misunderstanding. So don’t go telling me this Bella girl is just some friend of yours. You look as twitter-pated right now as she did, and that’s all I need to know. But I am curious as to how you fell for one of your customers,” she finished with an inquisitive look.

Edward shook his head. He should have known better than to ever outwit his baby cousin. “And how do you know she’s a customer?”

“She saw my name on my student I.D. and asked if I was related to Edward Cullen. I told her you were my brother, to see how much she knew about you. She knew enough to know you don’t have a sister, but not enough to know your real last name. Which leads me to believe she knows you better than most of your customers do, but not well enough to know all your secrets. Yet,” she added portentously.

He let out a soft snort. “Excellent work, Sherlock. So what do you plan to do with your findings?”

“Good question. I did get her phone number, but I haven’t called her yet. And I won’t, if you’re not cool with it.” She wondered if she could really keep that promise. If it looked like Edward was about to fuck this up, and chances were excellent that he would, then she wasn’t above intervening to help him in spite of himself.

He shook his head once more. “Do whatever you like. I know damned well I couldn’t stop you if I wanted to.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to stop her. He had what Alice might call “a warm fuzzy” when he thought of his closest relative befriending Bella.

“So true,” Alice agreed with a self-congratulatory smile. “I will definitely call her, then, when I get a minute. But right now my head is spinning with all the homework I already have. And I’m working a lot of hours this weekend, too.”

“Tell the restaurant you need to cut back a little now. I don’t want your grades to suffer. School is your number one priority right now. Let me worry about the rest.”

“You worry enough already. If I can’t handle the load, I’ll tell Sophia, I promise. But I won‘t tell her about Bella and crush her hopes. Not until I get a chance to scope this girl out and see if she‘s cool.”

Edward let out something between a chuckle and a groan. “Great. I thought that with Mom and Dad gone, I’d avoid having any future girlfriends interrogated and judged for suitability. But you may actually be worse than they would have been.”

Alice ignored the insult and zeroed in on the admission. “So you are considering her as a girlfriend! Holy shit, Edward. This is huge. Do you even realize?” She had stopped eating altogether and was staring at him in huge, hazel-eyed shock. “You don’t do the girlfriend thing. You never have. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you even utter the word. Wow. She must have done some number on you. Now I really do need to meet her. I want to know how she did it.”

“Christ,” he muttered, pushing his mostly-empty plate away. “I think your time would be better spent worrying about your own love life. The point will probably be moot, anyway, since I’m sure that sooner or later, Bella won’t be able to put up with my occupation any better than your sainted Sophia or any other normal girl would.”

He bolted from his seat, gathered his dirty dishes and headed for the dishwasher, half-ignoring Alice’s impassioned reply.

“All the more reason for you to quit! We can get by on less, Edward. People do it all the time. They clip coupons, shop in discount stores and resale shops -”

“We already do that,” he interrupted in a mutter.

“ - and live in much less expensive places. Think how much we could save if we sold this house, and all these old antiques. Em doesn’t even remember the significance of this stuff anymore.”

“I remember,” Edward shot back, slamming the dishwasher door shut. “Maybe you don’t have any memories of our family - you were too young - but I do. We’ve already lost everyone we love, Alice. I’ll be damned if I let everything they ever worked for slip away, too.”

“But these are just things, Edward,” she argued. “They can’t take the place of the people we lost. And we can’t lose our family completely, anyway. They’re in our hearts forever. Besides, do you really think your mother or father would’ve wanted you to sacrifice everything the way you have, just to keep a bunch of inanimate objects in our possession? They probably would have rather seen you living in a cardboard box as long as you were following your passion instead of throwing it all away.”

Edward was seething now, smarting from her jab at his most sensitive spot. “Trust me, I know very well they would not have agreed with my choices. And maybe the rash decision I made wasn’t the best one. But I won’t feel guilty for taking care of our grandmother after all she went through and all she did for us. I won’t feel guilty for saving the house our ancestors built. I won’t feel guilty for trying to hang onto the only thing that gives me a sense of family or stability anymore.”

“I’m not saying you should feel guilty. I’m just saying maybe it’s time to look for a different way, now that things are a little more under control, that’s all,” she pleaded.

“Things are under control because of the money I make, Alice. If I were playing the piano for peanuts instead, you’d be living in Kentucky right now with your mother’s second cousin, and Em would be tied to a bed in the dementia wing of some understaffed state-run nursing home.”

“You don’t know that,” she retorted, trying not to roll her eyes at the worst-case scenario he painted. “You have so much talent, Edward. You have no idea how far you could have gone if you’d stuck with it the past two years.”

Edward emitted a woeful laugh. “I love that you have that kind of faith in me, Alice, I really do. But you don’t know what I saw, what I heard. Guys like me are a dime a dozen at Juilliard. I practiced fucking night and day just to keep my scholarships. I fought tooth and nail for every solo, every opportunity to stand out from the crowd. To stay at that competitive level would have taken a lot more time and energy than I could give after Em got so sick.”


Alice took a deep breath and raised her eyes to the ceiling, perhaps looking for strength from a higher power. “All right, fine. You win." She dropped her head in defeat. She was weary of this battle. They’d had the same argument repeatedly for two years, and he always had more justifications for his choices than she had energy to refute them. She was just glad that he hadn’t defended himself by reminding her that at least he wasn’t selling drugs or pimping out women for money. Of course, she didn’t see how pimping himself was so different.

But Edward did. This way, he reasoned, he was only hurting himself. And that helped him sleep a little better at night. Or it did, before he met Bella.

He sighed heavily and took a stab at changing the subject. “Do you have any classes today?”

“Just one - lecture hall for Western Civ. Then I’ll probably study at the library for a while before work.”

She didn’t bother to ask what he was doing because she figured she wouldn’t want to hear the answer. She still wasn’t looking at him; she concentrated on her breakfast instead.

“Sounds like a plan,” Edward said lamely. He ran his fingers awkwardly through his hair and headed out of the kitchen. “I’ll see you later, then. Be safe. I love you.”

Alice mumbled incoherently but still didn’t look up. He wandered into the living room and, as always, the empty space where the piano used to be yawned like a black hole before him. His fingers continued to claw his hair restlessly, searching for their favorite outlet. He desperately needed the release.

He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket and dialed one of the few client numbers he had in his possession, then paced the floor as it rang. The sound of her voice was sweet relief.

“Hi, it’s Edward. I’m sorry to bother you, but if you don’t have any plans today, would it be all right if I came over?”

# # # # # # # # # #

Charlotte Rhinehart checked herself in the mirror once more, feeling a bit foolish as she did so, but unable to stop herself. It wasn’t often that Edward invited himself over in between their usual visits, and when he did, it usually meant that he was upset about something. He would never say what, exactly, but the passionate, mournful music he chose to play always gave him away.

Today turned out to be no different. When he arrived, he gave her the briefest of hugs and a perfunctory greeting; then asked if he could sit at the piano for a while. She waved him away to the conservatory without reservation, then sat in the next room, as was her habit, so that she could enjoy the music without disrupting his concentration.

Today, that concentration was fierce. He attacked the keys as if he had a score to settle with them. Even to her untrained ears, the music was clearly challenging and wildly dissonant, its tones and rhythms changing constantly in a perfect sonic storm. He repeated several passages until they were perfect, scowling at his flubs, then smiling in grim satisfaction when he finally performed the entire piece flawlessly.

He was still sitting at the bench, taking deep breaths, hands gripping his knees when Charlotte entered the room and showered him with applause. He cocked one eyebrow at her and grinned.

“That was quite amazing. A very difficult piece, yes?”

“Yeah. I performed it for my final at Juilliard. I like to revisit it every now and then just to make sure I can still play it.”

“Ah. I was right,” Charlotte said with a satisfied smile as she rested an elbow atop the piano. “I assumed you’d attended some prestigious music school the first time I heard you play.”

Edward looked a bit surprised. “I guess I never told you that, huh? Sorry. It’s not something I really like to talk about.”

“Your fingers do the talking for you,” she replied. “That was truly masterful, my dear. And I’m not talking about the technical perfection, either. I’m talking about the passion, the fury you put into every note. It’s nothing short of astonishing. Music is all about feeling, and that’s where you truly shine. You don’t let the technique interfere with the emotion. That’s what allows the music to soar and transcend the notes. Do you know what I’m saying?”

Edward looked up at her in wonder. “I know exactly what you’re saying. Ironically, I think that I’ve gotten better at that since I quit school and don’t get to play as much. It forces me to channel all my frustration into something more powerful, I guess.”

“Perhaps life’s trials have given you more empathy to the human condition, and that only enriches the music that comes out of you. Another sad irony, that suffering can create great art.”

“So they say,” Edward agreed with a rueful smile. “Maybe I should be grateful for the hard knocks, then?” He snorted softly.

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Charlotte said with a laugh. “Happiness can create great art, too, as far as I’m concerned. And I’d certainly like to see you get your fair share. Certainly no one deserves it more.”

“I think that’s debatable,” he countered darkly.

Charlotte gave him a warning look that prompted him to explain himself.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I feel like I keep making them. Maybe I’m just reaping what I’ve sown.”

“Good heavens, are you trying to tell me you’re human?” she retorted with a sly grin. “I’ll get the guillotine ready, then. Mistakes are unforgivable. Not only do you not deserve happiness, I’m not altogether sure you deserve to live.”

Edward laughed in spite of himself. “All right, fine. Point taken. You always make me smile, Charlotte, you know that?”

“It works both ways,” she replied, beaming herself. “Now, would you like to tell me what happened between this week and last? You were high as a kite last Wednesday. This Wednesday, you barely spoke when you came over; you just sat at this piano for hours, which is fine by me. But this impromptu visit has me wondering what’s gone so wrong in the span of a few short days. Does it have something to do with that young girl you‘re interested in? What did you say her name was, again?”

“It’s Bella,” he answered with a smile before his forehead creased. “Nothing’s wrong, exactly. Or maybe everything is. She’s given me a lot to think about, I guess.”

Charlotte nodded. “Maybe a reevaluation of your life is in order. There are worse things than taking stock, you know.”

“I know. That’s what Alice says, too. But it’s happening so fast . . . I’m just not sure what to do.”

Her heart ached for the troubled young man before her. She wanted to wave a magic wand and take his pain away, if only he would let her.

“My offer still stands, you know,” she reminded him gently.

He still flinched at her words. “Thank you. I do appreciate that. But I’m not sure how that would really help anything. I’d just owe you instead of the bank. And before you tell me I don’t have to repay you, I don’t think I could live with myself if I just took a handout from you, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, though she wanted to throttle him for his stubborn male pride. “Just think about it, that’s all I’m asking.”

He nodded, but still looked reluctant. She decided it was time to move on to a less touchy subject. “Would you like to play some more, or join me in a game? I’m in dire need of brushing up my poker skills. Your tutelage would come in handy, as I’m considering joining a card circle in the neighborhood.”

His face brightened. “You should definitely do that. You’re a natural. You’ve already got your poker face down, so the rest should be a cinch.”

“All right, then. Why don’t you fetch the card deck for us? It’s in the sitting room desk. I’ll join you shortly.”

She watched his tall, lanky form lope out of the conservatory, and shook her head at the slew of conflicting feelings he stirred within her. Above all, though, she longed to see him content. She suspected this Bella held the key to his happiness, if he could only see his way clear to letting her unlock it.

Bella. She wondered again if Edward’s crush was the same girl who’d nearly mowed her down outside the church Sunday, but was adorably apologetic about it afterward. She’d asked Pastor Tim about the girl, but he’d divined little about her, other than her first name and her appreciation for fine art. As soon as he’d told Charlotte the girl’s name, her interest had been piqued. She hoped Bella would return some Sunday so she could find out more about her.

Charlotte walked around the piano and pushed in the bench, then approached the bookcase behind it. She reached up to the highest shelf and retrieved a small recording device from between a long row of books. She checked to make sure it was working, then hit the “stop“ button, stifling a slightly devious grin. She supposed she ought to feel guilty for having secretly recorded several of Edward’s practice sessions, but she couldn’t quite seem to regret it. She’d enjoyed downloading and listening to his beautiful music in between visits, for one. But truth be told, she had a deeper motive behind her actions. She was merely waiting for the right moment to give him the nudge he needed.

She had decided long ago that if Edward refused to help himself, then she would.

　

　

　

Chapter 25

On the way to the parking garage, Bella found herself standing outside the little church near her dorm again, staring at the giant black sheet of glass, wondering. She was dying to know what that stained-glass window looked like from inside the building.

From the outside, it was impressive mainly in size, dwarfing the east end of the church. The building was constructed of unassuming tan brick, its focal point clearly the stained-glass window she assumed was centered over the altar. Her parents weren’t particularly religious, so she had been in only a few churches before. Most of them were silent, gloomy affairs, filled with dark wood and high stained glass that filtered in little light.

But this window was enormous, and relatively close to the ground compared to the others she’d seen. She imagined that it let in a lot of light. She had the feeling it was beautiful, even though she couldn’t see any of the colors from the outside. She could only see the dark reflection of the glass between the leading. A huge likeness of Christ was superimposed over a thick, stylized cross, but he wasn’t hanging upon it like the figures she’d seen on crucifixes. He was simply standing, fully dressed in robes, arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture. Instead of thorns, a halo surrounded his head. Its roundness was echoed in a secondary circle around the cross, itself dotted with small globes containing symbols she couldn’t read.

From an artistic standpoint, she found it quite interesting. She would be taking an art history class this semester, and she knew cathedrals and religious artwork would be a big part of the course. She was curious to know how old this stained-glass window was, and what it looked like from the inside the church.

A glance at her watch told her she had a little time to kill before she had to be at work. The church parking lot was relatively empty, so she figured the Sunday service wouldn’t start for awhile yet. Next thing she knew, she found herself slowly ascending the stairs to the heavy wooden front door. She took a breath, wrapped her hand around the iron handle and pulled up the latch. The door opened in well-oiled silence, and her heart picked up its pace as she stepped into the foreign entryway.

She looked around, but saw no one. She tiptoed in on sneakered feet, silently climbing another short set of stairs that led to the back of the church. She was surprised to see that the interior was light and airy. The room was painted white, carpeted in deep crimson, and decorated with comfortable-looking sofas and chairs. She crept along the carpet, looking around in cautious awe at her surroundings.

She soon reached a set of doors that had been propped open in welcome. She peered around the corner and down the long, carpeted aisle into the sanctuary. When her eyes met the stained glass window at the end, she let out a gasp.

It was beautiful. Breathtakingly, stunningly beautiful.

She found herself slowly walking down the center aisle of the sanctuary, barely cognizant of the warm maple pews passing her on either side. Her eyes were transfixed upon the enormous image over the altar, its colors resplendent as the morning sun shone through them with uncanny brilliance.

The entire background was comprised of vibrant royal blue glass in slightly varying shades, a perfect backdrop for the golden cross upon it. The figure of Christ was robed in shades of white, green and rich scarlet; the circle around him was scarlet as well, overlaid with white globes containing symbols she still didn’t recognize. She wasn’t sure, but she thought maybe they represented his disciples. She’d heard the Christmas and Easter stories, of course; Mom had always managed to get her to a church for such occasions.

But here, looking at this amazing piece of art, she felt a reverence she’d never felt before in church. She wasn’t sure if it was the deep, glowing colors, or the serene, all-knowing look the artist had captured to represent the features of Jesus. All she knew was that for the first time, she actually felt like she might be in the presence of something greater than herself.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

She literally jumped at the sound of the voice behind her. She’d been so lost in her studies of the window that she’d failed to hear the soft pad of feet approaching on the thick carpeting. She whirled around and found herself face to face with a rather short, bespectacled man wearing a huge grin and a white cassock.

“It’s amazing,” she finally uttered after her heart stopped knocking against her ribs.

“Sorry if I scared you,” the pastor said, still smiling, not looking particularly sorry at all. “I figured Daisy and I made enough ruckus just breathing, let alone walking, to give you some warning.”

Bella flashed him a confused look before she realized what she was seeing. All at once, she took in the obvious: his amiable eyes were crinkled into unfocused slits behind their lenses of thick, myopic glass; and in his left hand he grasped a leather-wrapped bridle securing a large, liver-colored Chesapeake Bay retriever at his side.

“I’m Pastor Tim,” the man said, holding out his hand in her direction. She took it and he instantly grasped her hand tightly, giving it a warm shake.

“I’m Bella,” she managed to say.

“Nice to meet you, Bella,” the pastor boomed. “Are you going to stay for the service today? I promise, Daisy and I don’t bite. Well, she doesn’t, anyway,” he added with a mischievous grin.

Bella let out a weak laugh and knelt down to scratch the placid guide dog behind her ears.

“She’s beautiful,” Bella said.

“So I’m told,” Pastor Tim replied. “She’s my eyes, though, so I’m a little biased.”

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

“Don’t be. I’m blessed to have such a beautiful pair of eyes, don’t you think?”

She couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if he’d just given her a wink.

“Daisy is a blessing,” Bella agreed. The pastor was so uncannily open that she decided to take a chance and ask him the foremost question on her mind. “So, have you seen this stained-glass window? I mean, before. . .”

“Before I went blind?” the pastor was kind enough to finish for her.

“Yeah.” Her voice was sheepish.

“No, I’ve been blind since I was a young man. Diabetes,” he explained. “Took part of my leg, too. Couldn’t take my spirit, though. The Lord made sure that stayed intact.”

“Wow.” Bella’s reply was barely audible, but she had the feeling Pastor Tim heard her.

“My parishioners have described the window to me in detail, and it’s all the more beautiful when I see it through their eyes. I’m lucky to still have my mind’s eye, too. And the imagination can be a powerful thing - more powerful than reality, sometimes.”

Bella was a little stunned by the profundity of his simple statements. “You’re right,” she agreed softly.

“Well, I just wanted to welcome a newcomer to the church. I hope you’ll stay and hear the message today. It’s a good one, if I do say so myself.” He gave her that same infectious grin, and she found herself wishing she could stay and hear more of his words.

“I’m afraid I have to work,” she told him. “I just wanted to steal a look at that window from the inside. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

He tutted and waved a dismissive hand. “You can never intrude in the house of the Lord. It’s your house. It’s everyone’s house, if they only let it be.”

Bella nodded, thanked Pastor Tim again, and hurried out of the sanctuary. She knew he meant his words of welcome, but she was beginning to feel like she had overstepped; like she didn’t belong in this place, no matter how warm and inviting it felt.

She pushed the front door open and barreled out onto the concrete landing - straight into a parishioner who was just arriving. The woman’s wide-brimmed hat was knocked from her head as Bella whizzed by, and the wind picked up strands of her neat silver bob, blowing them into the air.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!” Bella apologized, bending down to retrieve the woman’s gauzy summer hat. The breeze lifted and carried it away before she could grab it, and she stumbled after it, her sneakers scraping the pavement.

“Oh my!” The woman exclaimed, watching the young girl scramble. “Don’t trouble yourself, I’ll get it.”

But Bella had already seized the brim. “Got it!” she pronounced, waving it in the air as she stood upright. The woman was laughing and smoothing her sleek bob with one hand when Bella handed her the hat.

“Thank you, dear,” she said with a benevolent smile. Bella smiled herself, at the woman’s elegant demeanor and English accent. She was the type of woman Bella thought she might like to be when she was older - smart, stylish, almost regal.

“You’re welcome,” Bella told her, then turned to leave.

“Aren’t you going to stay for the service?” the woman asked as she reached for the now-closed door.

“No, I have to work,” she begged off.

“Oh, that’s a shame. You should come back some time when you can. Pastor Tim is a delightful man. I was dead chuffed when I discovered him. He’s not all stuffy and holier-than-thou like so many other reverends. He speaks straight to the heart without even trying.”

“I’m sure he does,” Bella agreed.

“I hope to see you again, then.”

Bella looked into the kind-hearted eyes of the British woman and thought that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to come back here sometime. She watched as the woman waved her hat good-bye and opened the door of the church.

“Pastor Tim,” she called in greeting, stepping into the entry.

“Good morning, Charlotte,” was the last thing Bella heard as the heavy door swung shut behind her.

　

# # # # # # # # # # #

　

“Remind me again why I do this.”

Emmett glanced over at Edward, but the latter was still staring morosely off the terrace, his eyes unfocused in the direction of the Sound.

“What, relax at home with a beer on a Sunday afternoon?” Emmett countered, taking a swig from his Heineken. “Because it’s the law.”

That one nearly cracked Edward’s face with a grin, but not quite.

“No, why I fuck women for money,” he clarified bluntly.

“Ah,” Emmett replied, as if he didn’t already know the cause of Edward’s ill humor. “You just said it yourself - you need the money. And you don’t fuck them. Not all of them. You merely entertain them, however they desire. You provide the much-needed and appreciated service of companionship - nothing more, nothing less.”

Edward did grin this time. “I like how you toe the company line. Rose would be proud.” He glanced over and gave Emmett a suspicious look. “Does she have a recording device jammed in your shoe?”

“Possibly,” he answered with a grin. His smile faded and he gave Edward a questioning look. “You wanna tell me what this is about?”

Edward frowned and took a hefty swig of his own beer. “I just need you to remind me why I started doing this. Tell me everything I said to you in the bar that night, when you talked me into following in your footsteps.”

“Hey, I didn’t have to talk very long,” Emmett protested. “At the time, you were ready to sell all your bodily fluids and probably your first born for money.”

“Exactly. Remind me why.”

Emmett sighed before taking a deep breath and launching into the list. It had been awhile since he’d had to do this, but apparently Edward needed to hear it one more time.

“Well, you’re looking at one of the main reasons. This view. This house. Your mother’s house; your grandmother’s house. La Casa Cullen - the only physical thing that remains of your family’s history. It’s not a mansion, but it’s all you have, and in this location, the property taxes alone could bleed a man dry.”

Edward nodded. “Go on.”

“You didn’t have a clue what was really going on with your grandmother when you were away at school,” Emmett continued with another sigh. “She even managed to hide it from Alice for awhile. Then the two of them hid it from you - how much she was forgetting. How Alice had started paying the bills when Emily forgot. But even she didn’t know just how bad it was until Emily wandered off and left the stove on after lunch one day. She nearly burned the whole Goddamned house down. If Alice hadn’t come home from school when she did, both Emily and this place would have been gone.”

Edward took another mouthful of beer and swished it around in his mouth, enjoying its mild bite. “Continue.”

Emmett shook his head, wondering why Edward made him do this. Why he did it to himself. But for some reason, he needed it, so Emmett droned on.

“Well, as I recall, you were just graduating from Juilliard at the time and had planned to audition for a position with a traveling symphony. Instead, you came home to find the house, and everything else, in shambles. The Alzheimer’s had done more damage to Emily than you or Alice ever guessed. Your grandmother had neglected to keep up the insurance premiums on this property, and on herself. Unbeknownst to you, she’d taken a second mortgage out on the house to cover the college tuition and expenses your scholarships didn’t. And then there was the first mortgage that she’d taken just to pay for the expenses of raising you and Alice for the past fourteen years.”

“And why did she do that?” Edward interrupted, gazing morosely out over the water.

“Christ, Edward,” Emmett mumbled. Why was he forcing him to bring up such painful shit? He swallowed another mouthful of beer before he spit the words out. “Because, after your parents and your aunt and uncle died together in that car crash, there was nothing left. Emily sold the building they’d constructed for their new medical practice, which paid off the loans they’d taken out to build it, and not much more. And then, when she started forgetting things at work, she was let go from the law office where she’d been a clerk most of her life.”

Edward was still gazing out over the Sound, his eyes and thoughts far away. He was only half-listening to Emmett’s narration of his family’s painful past. For some reason, he kept thinking about his third piano recital at the age of eight, when he played last on the roster because he was already better than the older students under his instructor’s tutelage. His parents had been bursting with pride. Dad never even mentioned him going into medicine like he had. Instead he started calling Edward, Junior “my future concert pianist.”

Emmett drained his bottle and looked sideways at Edward. “Is that enough?”

Edward shook his head. “All of it.”

Emmett huffed a sigh before continuing. “What more is there? You came home to a very ill grandmother, a dependent teenaged cousin and a fucking mountain of debt. You told me you met with a financial wizard who started throwing around ideas like Welfare and state-funded hospitals and foster care for Alice until she was eighteen, or could be declared an emancipated minor. When he told you that the bank was about to foreclose on the house if you didn’t come up with the past few months' back payments, you nearly hauled off and the slugged the guy.”

A wan smile flitted over Edward’s face. “I couldn’t let them take this house,” he said quietly.

“Right. You couldn’t. So you did what you had to do to save it,” Emmett told him emphatically, giving him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before reaching into the cooler between them and extracting another beer. He popped off the top and took a draft. “You got your grandmother the specialized care she needs, in a nice place, with a staff who knows what they’re doing. You saved the family home so Alice could stay here with you and finish school, instead of being carted off to those distant relatives of hers in the Midwest who don’t have two nickels to rub together. You paid off your own student loans and even managed to pay part of Alice’s tuition so she won’t be in such massive debt when she graduates.”

Emmett paused and stared at his friend until he turned weary eyes his way.

“You manned up, Edward. You took care of your family and yourself. Maybe it wasn’t the perfect way, but you were desperate. I presented you an opportunity, and you took it. Don’t beat yourself up over this anymore. You can still do other things with your life when your escort days are through, you know.”

Edward nodded slowly, his face still tainted with bitterness. “Don’t get me wrong, Emmett - I’m grateful for your help. I don’t know what I would have done to keep my head above water back then. I was drowning. You threw me a lifesaver.” He paused and sipped more beer. “Problem is, the lifesaver is starting to strangle me.”

Emmett nodded, trying to understand. He, himself, had enjoyed his escort days immensely, for the most part. But when he considered that none of the women who hired him ever made him feel like a man the way Rosalie did, he realized why the business was getting to Edward.

“So, who is she?”

Edward was as startled by the question now as he had been last night, when his client demanded to know the same thing.

“What makes you think it’s a she?”

“Sorry, I wasn’t aware you were batting for the other team,” Emmett replied with a twinkle in his eye. “Damn, why is it always the gay ones who make the best escorts?”

“Shut up,” Edward retorted with a roll of his eyes. “Although you’re right, Laurent is our number one requested guy, and he’s more ‘bi’ than a bicycle.”

Emmett suddenly shot up in his lounge chair, a light bulb seeming to go off in his head. “It’s that girl from last weekend, isn’t it? The little pale one with the big, dark eyes.”

Edward felt his face grow warm, but chalked it up to the beer and too much sun.

“Ha, I knew it! I know your type, man. Sweet and unassuming on the outside, take-no-prisoners on the inside. Am I right?”

Edward couldn’t help but smile. “You do know me well. And her, considering you met her for all of ninety seconds.”

“Yeah, but she had that look in her eyes, like she already owned you and she knew it. And you were so clearly whipped. I should have known. Shit. Don’t get whipped by a client, man! That’s the number one rule, you know that. You let one of them in, and the next thing you know, you’re the one getting screwed.”

Edward only grinned some more, then shrugged helplessly. “I like her. She’s different from anyone I’ve ever met. The minute I leave her, I want to see her again. Do you know how long it’s been since I met a girl I couldn’t wait to see again?”

Emmett shook his head sadly. “Yep. You’re screwed.”

“Never, that’s how long,” Edward continued, undaunted. “I can’t remember the last time anyone made me feel that way. At Juilliard, I was so focused on my career that I didn’t want to take the time to maintain an actual relationship. That’s why I kind of enjoyed the escort business at first. No-strings sex was something I’d tried like hell to have all through college, and finally I was not only getting it, I was getting paid for it. It was like winning the lottery twice.”

Edward’s grin faded. “But it didn’t take long to realize what a hollow victory it was. When the novelty wore off, so did the satisfaction. Before I got in this business, I never imagined the day would come when sex would just be routine, like brushing my teeth every morning. But that’s exactly where I was when I met Bella. I was at a point where I expected nothing. Wanted nothing. She couldn’t have caught me more off guard.”

Emmett was still shaking his head. “You poor bastard,” he said with a sigh. “You’re so fucked.”

Edward nodded in futility. “Fucked.”

“You’re not doing anything stupid, are you?” Emmett asked in a warning tone. “Like trying to see her on the side?”

Edward’s eyes flickered briefly to Emmett’s, then back out over the water. “I don’t know. I might be.”

Emmett’s groan was loud and foreboding. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that. And if Rose asks me anything about why you’re acting screwy lately, I will plead total ignorance.”

“Am I acting screwy?”

“A little. Maybe no one else notices.”

“My date last night noticed.”

Emmett’s look was one of mild horror. “Don’t tell me. . .”

“Okay, I won’t tell you that I almost couldn’t get it up. I was so fucking tired, and I couldn’t get Bella out of my head, especially one week to the day after I was with her. . .”

“I am not hearing this.”

“Bella was a virgin. Did I tell you that? She was a fucking virgin and actually paid my sorry ass to be her first. How fucked up is that? It’s, like, inconceivable to me. And yet that’s what she wanted. I was who she wanted. And she still wants me. She still sees something in me. . .”

Emmett groaned in defeat. His friend was far more gone than he ever suspected.

“How old is she, anyway? She looked young.”

“She’ll be twenty in a couple of weeks,” Edward admitted, feeling a little sheepish.

Emmett groaned more loudly. “She’s still in college? That is trouble, my friend. With a capital ‘T.’ She’s too young.”

“She’s not that young -”

“She’s too young,” he reiterated sharply. “Forget about it. Call her up in a couple of years after she graduates and see if there’s still something there. Maybe by then you’ll have your finances in order enough to quit the business. But you’re crazy if you’re considering trying to keep something going with this girl right now.”

Emmett could see his friend’s reluctance to follow his advice. He turned sideways in his chair, leaning in to look Edward straight in the eyes. “I’m serious, man. You need to let this one go.”

Edward’s face had an expression Emmett had never seen before, a strange combination of desperation and determination.

“That’s the thing,” he said, his voice pulled tight as a drum. “I don’t think I can.”



# # # # # # # # # #

　

Alice Cullen stared at the book store queues in utter dismay.

"Disgust" was more like it. She couldn’t even see the ends of the lines at first. They snaked through the store like dancing Chinese dragons on a congested parade route through Chinatown. She thought she’d found the end of one until a large, pasty-faced girl glared at her and barked, “Get to the back of the line! No cuts.”

Alice hoisted her basketful of books higher on her hip and followed the string of people like a trail of breadcrumbs until she was almost out the front door.

“Shit,” she muttered to herself, settling in for the long haul to reach a register. Edward was right - she shouldn’t have procrastinated.

Edward was always right, much to her annoyance. Well, about most things. She would never agree with his decision to be an escort, even though the mountain of debt their grandmother had accrued looked insurmountable back then. She always thought there had to be a better way, especially with the talent he possessed. Even when Edward pointed out to her that he was making five times more money as an escort than he would have as a symphony pianist, and received a car and wardrobe allowance to boot, she kept trying to come up with a better idea. But she was only a teenager in high school, working as many part-time hours as she could manage in order to pitch in. She didn’t have any easy answers.

But Edward thought he did. He even tried to tell her it was his dream job - it was every man’s dream job. Alice knew better. She might have believed him if he’d been some womanizing man-whore all his life, but he was always quiet and even a little shy, never quite realizing just how attractive he was to the opposite sex. He was so absorbed in his musical ambitions that everything else, including girls, came second. That’s why it killed her to watch him cut himself off from his lifelong dream just to take care of her and their grandmother, and to save that stupid old house. He’d treated his budding music career as if it were a limb he’d had to sever to get out of a trap, leaving it behind without so much as a single look back.

But she saw that phantom limb haunting him still, the ghost of it lingering in his wistful eyes. The pain of his sacrifice made her angry sometimes - made her wish horrible, irrational things. She often found herself hoping her grandmother would die soon, and then hated herself immediately afterward. But the truth was, so much of the woman she loved had disappeared already that the shell remaining seemed to exist primarily as a cruel joke on all of them. If Edward weren’t paying for Emily’s nursing home care, he might be able to handle the mortgages with a regular job instead of the quasi-illegal one to which he’d resorted. She knew why he was so attached to the house, and everything in it. It was all that remained of the family they’d both lost too soon.

Alice finally set her heavy shopping basket on the floor with a thud and an irritated sigh. She heard a soft chuckle in the queue to her left. She looked across a couple racks of U-Dub apparel to see a cute blond-haired boy giving her a lopsided grin. He nodded down at the floor where his own overflowing basket of books lay, then gave it a kick as his line inched forward.

“I decided I’d save my weight-lifting for the gym,” he drawled in explanation. His accent earmarked him as a recent Seattle import from the south.

Alice giggled. “I’m saving my weight-lifting for. . . never,” she replied.

He let out a short, deep laugh at that. “At least you’re honest about it.”

She shrugged and gave her own basket a kick after the person ahead of her moved up. “If we ever decide to take up soccer, though, we ought to be pros by the time we get to the register.”

The blond boy’s grin deepened. “I like how you think.”

“I like how you talk. Where are you from?”

“Texas. Houston, originally,” he added.

“Really? Cool. Are you a freshman?” she asked hopefully.

“No, a junior. But I just transferred here from Texas Tech, so I kind of feel like one.”

“Well, I’m new to U-Dub, but not to Seattle. Maybe I can show you around sometime.” Alice never believed in beating around the bush, and she already liked this Texas transplant, with his easy manner and easier smile.

“I’d like that,” he said, his cheeks coloring slightly. He looked a little bashful, and it nearly drove her mad with attraction.

“I’m Alice, by the way,” she called over the clothes racks, leaning through the t-shirts and offering her hand. “Alice Cullen.”

“Jasper Whitlock,” he replied, reaching through some sweatpants to grasp her hot little fingers in his. “It’s a pleasure.”

She squeezed his strong hand for a moment before letting go. “It most certainly is,” she said under her breath.

“Come again?”

“Oh, I hope to,” she answered with a grin.

Twenty feet ahead, Bella Swan’s ears had perked up. Amidst the babble surrounding her station, she was sure she had heard the name “Cullen.” Absolutely positive, in fact. She craned her neck and looked down the line, and the line of the register across from hers, vainly hoping to see Edward in the throng. But she realized quickly enough that she would have recognized that gravity-defying hair of his, sticking up above the mops of tamer, shorter heads around him. Her brief surge of excitement quickly died and she continued to scan books with the bored precision of a robot.

Alice and Jasper each reached their registers at approximately the same time and gave each other knowing grins across the aisle before lifting their baskets in unison.

“The finish line!” she exclaimed, which made Jasper emit one of those deep chuckles that already made a little zing of excitement shoot through her veins.

She slammed the heavy shopping basket atop the counter and gave the cashier a triumphant look. The girl’s brown eyes widened for a moment, and then she let out a laugh as she looked into Alice’s exultant face.

“Hey, reaching this cash register has been the ultimate triumph, like completing the Boston marathon. It’s practically the pinnacle of my weekend,” she said. “Which doesn’t say much about my weekend, does it?”

She let out a rueful laugh, and the cashier joined her. When she began to lift her books from the basket, Alice quickly dove in to help her.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” the brown-eyed girl said, shooing her hand away.

“Are you kidding? You’re the one standing here doing heavy lifting all day. Let me get them. Besides, I’d better get used to hauling them around campus, right?”

“Right,” the cashier agreed. She let Alice retrieve the books and hand them to her one by one so she could scan them.

“Teamwork,” Alice told her with a grin.

The girl bit her lip and grinned. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“De nada,” Alice replied, digging through her purse for her wallet. She handed her student I.D. to the cashier, who ran it through the sensor and then checked the signature on the back. Suddenly the girl’s dark eyes widened, and she stared up at Alice with a stunned expression.

“What - is it declined?” Surely not. Edward didn’t let things like exceeded credit limits happen.

“No, it’s fine,” the girl answered, staring at the card again, then Alice. “It’s just - you aren’t related to Edward Cullen, are you?”

Alice’s eyes narrowed. Edward only used the surname “Cullen” when he was escorting. He didn’t like to use his real name, though he never said why. Alice figured it was his way of removing himself slightly from what he was doing, though he’d often said that he should just change his name to “Cullen,” to match that of his only surviving relatives. Either way, if this girl knew him as Edward Cullen, then she knew him through Renaissance Escorts.

Alice gave her a quick once-over. She didn’t know what Edward’s clients were usually like, but she couldn’t imagine that this girl was typical. She was young and attractive, if a bit awkward. What would she be doing hiring a date?

“Edward is my brother,” she replied. She figured this was a good test. Anyone who really knew Edward would know he was an only child, though Alice always considered him her brother. She was barely five when their parents died. She had only a few faded memories of them, but she had tons of memories of ten-year-old Edward moving into Em’s house with her, being her playmate and later protector, just like a brother would.

“Brother?” The cashier’s forehead crinkled and her face fell. “Oh. I’m sorry. I think it must be a different Edward Cullen, then.”

Alice’s interest was piqued. “Maybe,” she said. “How do you know him?”

The girl’s eyes flashed with something that looked a little like embarrassment. “He’s a friend of mine, that’s all,” she said, averting her gaze as handed Alice her I.D.

“I’m meeting a friend.” Edward’s words from the other day echoed in Alice’s ears. She studied the cashier again with interest. She wasn’t even sure what Edward’s type was, but if he had one, this girl might be it. Pretty, but not fussy; hard-working, honest-looking.

“Did you meet him Friday morning for breakfast?” Alice asked point blank.

The girl’s eyes popped open again. “Yeah. Did he. . . mention me?”

Alice glanced surreptitiously at her nametag. “As a matter of fact, he did, Bella.”

The girl’s cheeks turned bubble-gum pink and her lips stretched into a bashful smile. Geez, what was with all these self-conscious, shy types? Alice was surrounded by them. She took a quick peek over her shoulder to make sure the other bashful one, Jasper, hadn’t escaped during her conversation. He seemed to be lingering at the end of the counter, checking his bag, doing a book count. Shit, she didn’t have much time - she didn’t want that one to get away.

She turned curious eyes back to Bella, wondering how she’d met Edward, and exactly what she meant to him. He obviously meant something to her. But Edward had that effect on most women without even realizing it, the oblivious fool.

“Listen. Edward isn’t really my brother, but he might as well be. I love him to death and I want nothing more than to see him happy. And the other morning, when he was leaving to meet you, he actually looked happy for the first time in a long time.”

Bella looked even more pleased, if a little flustered; and Alice realized that this girl was one-hundred-percent gone over her cousin.

The question was, how did he feel about Bella?

Alice whipped her neck to the side to make sure Jasper hadn’t left; he was ambling toward the door. She turned back to face Bella, then scrambled in her purse for a pen and some paper.

“This gum wrapper will have to do,” she muttered. “Give me your phone number, would you? I’d like to talk to you some time about Edward. If that’s okay,” she added hurriedly.

Bella’s eyes were round and fawn-like once more. “Sure,” she said, then rattled off the numbers. Alice scribbled furiously and jammed the paper and pen back in her purse.

“Thanks, Bella. It was great to meet you. I’ll call you soon!”

And with that she was sprinting for the door, not caring how forward that might look to the laid-back Jasper Whitlock.

Bella stood gaping after her, wondering what had just happened. The loud smack of another customer’s books hitting her countertop diverted her attention from the aftermath of Hurricane Alice. She had no choice but to return to the drudgery of her job and hope that particular storm would revisit her soon.

　

　

Chapter 24

Junior is a no-show.

Edward tries to remember if this has ever happened to him before. He recalls a few times when Junior was reluctant to rise to the occasion, but eventually its baser needs eventually won out over any reservations Edward may have had about the object of its affections. Junior has always reigned victorious, because it is still only twenty-four years old, and its needs are often more powerful than the feeble protestations of Edward’s mind. In the battle of wills between penis and brain, the smaller organ generally has had no trouble exerting its will over the larger.

But now, a third party has charged the battlefield, and its arsenal of weapons is proving far mightier than those of its rivals.

In tonight’s fight for supremacy, the clear winner is Edward’s heart.

His date is unaware of the war being waged beneath the surface of Edward’s coolly handsome exterior. He looks a bit tired, she thinks; that must be the problem. She knows it’s not her. She has been assured more than once that she is attractive, even beautiful. She doesn’t need to hire a man to get a date. But she’s in between boyfriends right now and she’s bored. Paying an escort to do her bidding gives her a kick. She enjoys being wined and dined and treated like she’s the most special woman in the world, and even the best of men have trouble keeping up that level of attention after awhile. She knows all too well why the idiom “familiarity breeds contempt” exists. So she hires an escort when she wants the respect afforded only from a stranger.

Edward figured this out within the first half hour of their date. He has not lost his touch at reading between the lines; at least, not with most women. He has found the majority of them to be transparent, to varying degrees. This is why he’s had so much success as an escort.

He has been quite successful so far this evening, only too happy to flatter and amuse and seduce this woman, because these are the things at which he is adept. He is comfortable skating along the surface, telling her what she wants to hear. He has drawn out this part of the evening as long as he could, because he knew eventually she would not be satisfied with merely the surface. And sure enough, his seduction has worked - she wants more.

She is all over him like a cheap suit, replacing the expensive one she peeled from him like the skin from a juicy apple. She wants to take a bite, and she wants to be bitten in return. But he finds only poison in her, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and a limpness in his bones. She puts more effort into her ministrations, continuing her exhortation to bring him to life; but her charms and skills are not enough to undo the spell of the fairer one who came before her.

He watches her honey-colored head bob between his legs, and the color reminds him of his mother’s hair. He groans, but not in the way his date desires. He grabs a hank of the offending strands in his hand and pulls, interrupting her efforts to resuscitate the limp carcass of Junior that flops next to one thigh.

She sighs in mild exasperation and slithers up his body, letting her impressive tits hang in his face. He knows it is a landmark day when he remains unfazed by a rack like this.

“Who is she?”

He is surprised to hear these words leave her lips. He looks into her eyes, and sees a glimmer of empathy, maybe even pity.

“Who’s who?” he answers, ineffectually playing dumb.

She’s not playing. “The girl who’s fucking with your mind so that I can’t fuck with your body.”

Startled, he lets his guard drop, and she glimpses the real guy under the glib surface. Edward sees something real in her, too; something he could like, under different circumstances. He wants to tell her the truth, but he can’t say the fairer one’s name out loud. It would be sacrilege. He has already changed hotels, because he knew he could not entertain this woman in that suite, especially not one week to the night after her. He has done everything he could to remove this situation from that one; to make this a separate world unto itself. But he cannot divide himself in two, no matter how he tries.

His date sees this. And yet he still cannot defile the truth by sharing it with her.

“I’m just tired,” he says. At least that much is not a lie.

“Occupational hazard?” she asks with a sardonic laugh.

The ghost of a grin haunts his lips. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m sorry.”

His date lets her hazel eyes roam over his lovely, somewhat tragic features, and she feels sorry for him. That’s a new one for her, and certainly not what she paid for. But something in her won’t give up on this one. He’s a good guy - too good for this gig. Yet here they are, and she is going to make the best of it.

“You know what? I’m going to give you a pass. I’ll do all the work this time. You just close your eyes and dream. Imagine whoever you want,” she says, her voice softening. She leans down and kisses him softly along one high cheekbone, and though his brows knit, his eyes flutter closed. He is only too happy to lose himself in illusion. He succumbs to the lure of his own imagination, and Junior follows.

“That’s it,” his date coos, planting a kiss on the opposite cheek. “Close your eyes and dream, sweet prince.”

　

# # # # # # # # # # #

　

“So, when did you stop liking Adam Sandler movies?”

Bella looks across the car seat at Mike in surprise. “What do you mean? I love Adam Sandler.”

“You didn’t laugh once during that movie,” he replies with an accusatory quirk of his brows before shifting his eyes back to the road.

“Sure I did,” she argues. “You just didn’t hear me.”

He lets out a laugh of his own. “I know what your laugh sounds like. Besides, every time I looked over at you, you had this totally preoccupied frown on your face. Kind of like now.”

Her frown turns to a scowl. “Shut up. I did not. I thought the movie was funny. I was laughing on the inside. I’m sorry if I don’t howl like a baboon so the whole theater turns and looks at me, like some people I know,” she shoots back with a grin.

“Nice. Real nice, Bella,” he replies, putting his hand over his heart as if he’s been wounded. “At least people know where I stand. You never have to wonder what’s really going on with me - I just let it all out there. What you see is what you get.”

She smiles then. “That’s true. That is actually one of your nicer qualities.”

He gives her an exaggerated look of stunned surprise. “I’m surprised you found one. Seems like back in the day, I could never seem to do anything right.”

“That’s not true,” she denies, although when she thinks back, she realizes maybe it is kind of true. She’d never known exactly what was missing in their relationship, so she expressed her overall dissatisfaction in subtle ways, constantly nit-picking and pointing out even the smallest of Mike’s flaws. He didn’t deserve that, and she ended up disliking herself more than she ever did him.

She looks at him now with latent guilt. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you then. I was pretty immature. I didn’t really know why I was unhappy, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair, and I’m not proud of it. I am sorry about that.”

His surprise is genuine this time. “We were both immature then,” he says with a shrug. He suddenly laughs and adds, “Man, if this car could talk! Think of the stories it would tell.”

He waggles an eyebrow at her and makes her giggle. He is still driving what used to be his dad’s Civic, but now belongs to him, a going-off-to-college gift. She is fairly certain that every single time he took her out on a date back then, he’d lured her into the back seat and tried to wrestle her out of her clothes.

“You were relentless,” Bella remembers, side-eying him and shaking her head. “I almost gave in a couple of times.”

“Don’t be fooled - I’m still relentless,” he says with a grin. “As soon as we get this sucker in the parking garage, it’s on like Donkey Kong.”

He lets out a wolf howl and Bella laughs in earnest, swatting away his roaming hand before it can creep over the center console and give her thigh a squeeze.

Mike likes that he has her laughing, especially after the movie failed to do so. If he can make her happy, maybe he can make her feel other things, too. He’s half elated, half frustrated that Bella Swan still provokes the same feelings in him she always has. She is as warm and real as ever, and twice as pretty; but that same vaguely stand-offish vibe she has always emitted is stronger than ever, surrounding her like an invisible force field. He wants to charge through it with the heroic fervor of Luke Skywalker brandishing his light saber, but he fears that instead of arriving on the scene too early, this time he has come too late.

Han Solo has already beat him to the punch.

They are quiet as they pull into the parking garage near their dorms. Bella feels the silence as an easy one, but Mike’s interpretation is that of tension. He is about to ask her questions to which he’s not sure he wants the answers.

He debates taking her hand as he walks her to her room, but she is moving briskly ahead, not at the leisurely, romantic amble he would have liked. He hurries along with her, the pace making him blurt out his query with much less nonchalance than he wishes.

“So who was that suit guy who showed up to take you home last night?”

Bella is frowning slightly again. She barely glances at Mike out of the corner of her eye before answering, “Just a friend.”

Mike lets out a derisive laugh. “Well, he was pretty over-protective of you, for being just a friend.”

Bella slows down slightly and gives him a curious look. “You think so?”

“Yeah. He was looking at me and Riley like we were the lowest forms of human life. I mean, come on,” he scoffed. “Like I’d ever let anything happen to you, or take advantage of you.”

“No, I know you wouldn’t,” she agrees quickly. “I guess he’s just worried about me.”

Mike can see she’s fighting a smile. So she likes that this other guy came across like some crazy, possessive freak. Great.

“Yeah, well, he went overboard,” Mike tells her. “Where did you meet that guy, anyway? Dude was kind of creepy.”

“Creepy?” she exclaims. Then she laughs like he’s an idiot. “Edward's not creepy at all. He’s about the sweetest guy I’ve ever met,” she says defensively, and Mike feels a little nauseous.

“Edward? What the fuck kind of name is that?”

“It’s a classic name. You know, like the name Michael. Except he’s not into being called Ed or Eddie,” Bella says with a lip-curl of distaste. “You can hardly blame him for that.”

She is practically marching up to the entrance of McMahon Hall now, Mike stomping alongside her with matching militant zeal. This is not at all how he wanted this night to end. When he’d called her earlier to see how she was, he thought offering to take her to a movie would lift her spirits and make her feel better. He figured her request to see “something funny - so funny it’s stupid” was a good sign. Maybe they could have a laugh, reminisce about the past, and then talk about their present and future. They have done exactly that. But clearly they have different ideas about the present, and where they want the future to take them.

By the time they reach Bella’s door at the end of the hall, Mike is feeling repentant.

“Look, I’m sorry I made a crack about that guy. He’s obviously important to you, so. . .” he trails off, not sure what else to say. If she wants to date some creepy older suit-wearing guy, who is he to stop her? This Edward dude probably has money coming out of his ears. Mike is lucky Bella was willing to share the tub of jumbo popcorn at the movie.

“It’s okay,” she answers. She looks melancholy now; he’s not sure why.

He gathers his courage to blurt out the other thing he wants to say.

“So, is it serious between you and this Edward guy? If it is, just say so. If it’s not, well. . . I’d like to see you again. Even if it’s just as friends. I’ve missed you, and I had a good time tonight. I’d like to do it again.”

Bella looks into Mike’s earnest blue eyes, as bright as the sky on a cloudless day. She wants to tell him that what she and Edward has is as serious as it gets, but how can she be sure? Instead, she tells him the truth.

“I don’t know what I have with Edward. I know what I want, but I don’t know if it can work.” She frowns and looks down at the ugly gray carpet, then the ugly plaster wall, then the ugly silver door handle clutched under her fingers. Finally she lifts her gaze back to the blue. “I think we’re a lot better off as friends, Mike. But I’d like to do this again, too, if being friends is okay with you.”

Mike’s heart is heavy, but it hasn’t sunk completely. He gives her a grin far more cocky than he’s feeling.

“I think I could do the friend thing with you.” He’s not sure this is true, but he’d like it to be. And if this thing with suit-guy doesn’t work, it wouldn’t be so bad to be the one helping her pick up the pieces, would it?

Bella smiles, and Mike tries not to see the relief in her expression. “Thanks,” she says. “For taking me to the movie - for being a good friend. I appreciate it.”

He smiles and tells her, “No problem,” even though it is kind of a problem, but one he hopes he can deal with. They share an awkward hug that he desperately wishes was more, but he’s too much of a pussy to kiss her when she basically just told him, “I really want the suit dude, but if you wanna hang around in the wings just in case, I’d be cool with that.”

He’s still mentally calling himself a pussy as he walks down the hall. The word reverberates in his head all the way back to McCarty Hall.

Bella gets ready for bed, then lies down, sniffing the pillows for any remnant of Edward’s musky scent lingering there. She checks her phone for messages, but sees nothing new. It is near midnight. She knows, deep in her heart of hearts, what Edward is doing right now. She knows.

She thinks back to what she and Edward were doing one week ago tonight, right now. He was shattering her world irrevocably with every touch; with the thorough and systematic invasion of her body, mind, heart and soul. She can only pray that no matter what he is doing now, he is not changing someone else the way he did her.

She re-reads the series of text messages between them from earlier this evening.

Hi. How are you feeling? Better, I hope.

Slowly but surely. You witnessed the worst of it - got the brunt of it, too. I’m so sorry about your shoes. Unforgivable.

Nothing you could do would be unforgivable, least of all that.

I’ll remember you said that. BTW, I loved your addition to my poem. Can’t believe you read that tripe. You really have seen the worst of me now.

I’ve seen the best, too, and it showed in that poem. Stop putting yourself down. Pisses me off.

Duly noted. So you’re a poet, too, Mr. Cullen. Your verse made me cry.

Why?

Because it touched me. Because I want it to be true. Because I want you. I want “we.”

She remembers there was a pause between messages then. She waited what felt like hours for his reply.

You kill me when you say these things, he texted at last.

Kill you, how? In a good way or bad way?

I don’t even know. You don’t hold anything back. No games. I’m not used to it.

Bella pauses as she’s reading, because she has just realized she is honest with Edward in a way she was never able to be with Mike. She wonders why. Maybe it’s because she has nothing, and everything, to lose with Edward.

I’m not interested in playing games with you. Well, some games might be fun. But you know what I mean.

I do know what you mean. And I realize I want it all with you. . . The games. The truth. Whatever it is. However I can get it. But I don’t know how to do that without hurting you.

Bella had paused then, because she didn’t know how he could do that either.

Just give me your truth in return, she finally texted.

The truth is, I miss you. I will miss you tonight like crazy.

She wanted to remind him it was their one-week anniversary, but it hurt too much to point out the obvious.

Ditto, she replied. Like Crazy.

She feels crazy now. She puts the phone aside and stares at the ceiling, trying to shut off her brain. Trying not to think about what she knows he is doing right now. She squeezes her eyes shut and relives her night with him instead. She can almost feel the warmth of his touch, the hypnotic trance of his eyes locked with hers, the heat of his breath on her face, the intensity of him moving over her and inside her. She recalls the pain and pleasure of him filling her to overflowing, pushing her to her limits and then beyond.

But this time, she imagines ecstasy overwhelming every other sensation as he thrusts deeper and harder and faster inside her. She realizes she is touching herself, stroking in time to Edward’s movements in her mind. Her hand and Dream Edward pick up the pace, attacking with a frenzy that makes her belly tighten and a fire ignite within, growing until it engulfs her completely.

She cries out softly as she comes, but she is not worried about anyone hearing her beyond the thick walls of her tiny room. She is not really here, anyway.

She is miles away, in a bed of sumptuous silk, with her dragon slayer, her poet, her prince.