Chapter 40

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Since a couple of weeks ago.”

“Does Bella know that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go get the nurse,” he told her.

　

　

　

　

Chapter 39

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

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

Rosalie Hale was none of these things.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me see,” he begged.

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

“That’s okay. I’m sure it’s great.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t like it,” she whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“James Hunter is here to see you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

.

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

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

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

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

She saw him through the eyes of love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

　

　

Chapter 38

“Spanking?”

Bella repeated the word weakly, giving Edward a pleading look. He’d warned her about the whole birthday spanking idea last weekend, but she’d hoped he was joking. She should have known better. After all, he’d given her quite a few playful swats as a “sneak preview.” Maybe under different circumstances, a little slap and tickle might be fun. But after the sexual onslaught she’d just enjoyed at Edward’s hands - and other parts - she was spent.

“You know I won’t hurt you, right?” he murmured. He was a bit worried at the anxious look on her face. “I have a feeling you’ll actually like it.”

“You mean you’ll like it,” she retorted. “Do I get to spank you back?”

“Sure,” he answered with an agreeable smirk. “My birthday is next June.”

“Not funny. That’s almost a year away.”

He grasped her face gently in both hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “Bella, you can do whatever you want to me, whenever you want.”

Her eyebrows raised infinitesimally. “Anything?”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you have in mind?”

“I have no idea,” she replied with a feeble laugh. “But I’ll think of something.”

“You do that. I like living out your fantasies.” His eyes darkened ever so slightly, to that hungry animal look. “Now I need you to turn around so I can live out mine.”

Electricity crackled down her spine at his command. She was a little disconcerted at how hot it made her. The heat seeped slowly through her belly like molten lava, and she realized that, unbelievably, she was ready for more of whatever he wanted to give her.

Edward stepped back, pulling her off the edge of the table to stand before him. He immediately drew her into his arms and kissed her, first gently, then with more insistence. By the time his lips strayed from hers and trailed kisses down her neck, she was putty in his hands.

And his hands were everywhere, gentle but persuasive, caressing and cradling her closer as his mouth worked its way over her shoulders and chest. Her own hands followed a similar path, over his shoulders and down the sculpted muscles of his back; up the supple flesh of his waist and then to his neck, where her fingers sank into his hair. God, he felt so good . . . hard and soft in all the right places, towering over her in irresistibly masculine strength. The closer he pulled her, the more she dissolved against the heat of his skin, melting into his embrace, feeling completely at one with him once more.

She was barely cognizant of her body slowly being turned in his arms. Edward’s movements were so subtle that she twisted of her own accord to allow his lips better access to the hollow of her collarbone; to let his hands roam the tender skin beneath her arms. His mouth methodically moved over her shoulder to her back as one hand gathered her hair and pushed it aside. She closed her eyes let her head drop to the side; and when she opened them, she was somehow facing the table, Edward’s arms encircling her from behind and pulling her back against him.

“Damn, you’re good,” she mumbled, feeling the hot breath of his chuckles on her neck a second later. His erection pressed against her tailbone; his right hand reached up to cup one breast. She could feel her back arching, her body stretching to push her ass against him. Apparently it knew what it wanted better than her addled brain did.

“So, when you had that fantasy of me taking you on this table, how did it happen?” he questioned, his breath sending tremors down her spine as always. “Did you imagine it missionary style, the way we just did it?” His right hand wandered to her other breast, fingers circling its nipple until it was erect; his left hand splayed over her belly, inching toward her sex. “Or did I take you from behind, like this?”

He tilted his hips against her, slowly rubbing his cock between her cheeks. Her heart and lungs were in a race now, each trying to outpace the other. Were his questions rhetorical? Or was she actually supposed to formulate some kind of coherent answer?

“Tell me,” he insisted, his lips grazing her earlobe, his arms pressing her body tightly against his.

“I don’t know,” she gasped. “I didn’t have time for a detailed fantasy. I was still trying to carry on a conversation with you, remember?”

He chuckled again. “I remember it well. I was trying so hard to figure you out. I never dreamed you were already imagining the things you wanted me to do to you. Even if they were just fleeting thoughts.”

“I was trying to figure you out, too,” she admitted, attempting to slow her breathing. “I knew you didn’t want to be here, escorting. That something was driving you to it. I think that’s when I knew I wanted you - when I figured out that you weren’t who you were pretending to be. That there was more to you under that glib, pretty surface. When you played the piano for me, I knew for sure.”

His movements stilled at the revelation. He exhaled slowly into the back of her neck, closing his eyes. “And that’s when I knew you’d never settle for the surface. That you wanted the real me. Warts and all.” His arms squeezed her more tightly, his body swaying slightly with hers. “You scared me to death.”

She turned her face toward his in surprise, craning to look him in the eyes. “Ironic,” she whispered. “That was the exact moment I stopped being afraid. Started trusting you. Started wanting you, for real. Not just a fantasy for one night.”

A wry smile spread across his face. “That’s exactly what scared me. I knew it was for real. No pretending anymore. I wasn’t ready for that.”

“And now?” she whispered.

“Now?” He paused, looking down into those hopeful brown eyes. “I don’t give a damn about ready or not ready. I just want you in my life.” You are my life now, he wanted to add. He would say the words when he knew he could back them up.

“So you’re not afraid anymore?”

“Only of losing you,” he replied. “What about you? Are you afraid?”

Her answer was an unequivocal, “No.”

“You trust me?” His grin was faintly wicked, and she had the feeling the fun and games were about to resume.

“Should I?” she shot back.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, burying his lips in her neck once more. His hands began to wander, exploring, caressing. His left hand crept closer to the tiny triangle of hair low on her abdomen, and her hips instinctively tilted up toward his touch. He emitted a tiny growl of satisfaction at her body’s response. “Sometimes I get carried away with you. So far, you seemed to have enjoyed the ride. But you’ll have to tell me if you don’t. Stop me if I go too far. Promise?”

Another electric thrill shot through her, and she could muster only a nod in response. She wondered vaguely if there was something wrong with her, being so turned on at his warnings of sexual decadence. But his body was moving against hers again, and she could think of nothing except the sensations of his fingers dipping down to her sex as his erection slid firmly between her cheeks. He continued this way for another minute or two, fingers and cock stroking her to moaning readiness for more.

“Put your hands on the table,” he instructed softly, the honey of it dripping down each vertebrae until it settled at base of her spine. His body leaned against hers, pushing her gently forward until her hands shot out to catch herself. She felt the warm glide of his fingers up and down her sides before settling over her ass, cupping and then pulling at her buttocks, opening her up to him. She was amazed at her body’s response: not to shy away, but to lift her backside and spread her legs to receive him. Her belly throbbed with a desire so strong that she whimpered softly before he even touched her. She moaned the minute the cool air met her dripping sex, now utterly exposed to Edward’s lust-filled gaze and rock-hard dick.

She glanced over her shoulder to see his expression, his hooded eyes zeroing in on the prize between his hands. The hunger she saw there only made her pussy throb more, impatient to experience this new sensation of being entered from behind. She no longer felt in control of her actions. Her back arched and she leaned down on her elbows to give him better access.

He muttered some thoughtless obscenity at her wanton invitation. God, she was gorgeous. He said so aloud then, smoothing his hands over those two scoops of vanilla flesh, pulling at them once more to study the beautiful entrances that lay between. He wanted them both - the beautifully opened flower of her vagina hovering beneath the tightly closed bud of her anus. Maybe someday he would train that bud to open as well. He knelt down to taste both, tonguing the nectar-filled flower before working at its reluctant neighbor. Her appreciative moan gave him hope that he might succeed in coaxing it to relax one day.

“Delicious,” he murmured, giving each of her cheeks a gentle bite before standing upright and running his hands over her buttocks once more. Then, without warning, he gave them a slap, the flat of his hand bouncing noisily off of her firm flesh. He eyed the tiny reverberations with satisfaction while she yelped in surprise. He massaged her cheeks and pretended to ignore the glare she gave him over her shoulder.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, though he was fairly certain the answer was “no.” He would never dream of hitting a woman in any real way, and if his playful swats during sex were unwanted, he would stop immediately. He stilled his hands at Bella’s waist and waited for her reaction.

Had he hurt her? No, not really. Pain was not what she felt at all. After the initial sting of his palm striking her skin subsided, she felt only warm, residual tingles surging through her genitals. When the tingles fizzled, she immediately wanted to feel them again.

Instead, she received the warmth of his hands gliding up her body once more, over her back, soothing her. Heaven. And then the heat of his body leaning over hers, his torso pressing against her back.

“Answer me. Did I hurt you, Bella?” came his whisper in her ear.

She shook her head, not sure if she could speak. Finally, she managed to croak a small, “No.”

His hands wound in her hair, playing, pulling gently. “Did it feel good?” he asked this time.

She expelled a shaky breath. “Yes.”

She could feel his grin next to ear, the breath of his soundless chuckle scorching her neck.

“That’s good, because we have nineteen more to go.”

She emitted a sound that was half laugh, half sob. This was crazy. Too much. Was he really going to count? She didn’t know if she could take it.

And she couldn’t wait to find out.

He let out a sound of lusty satisfaction as he stood upright, leaving her back cold and exposed once more. The light graze of his fingers left trails of goose-bumps down her back on their way to her derriere, where he circled them around and around until the nerves in her cheeks danced with anticipation.

When his hand finally came down hard on her left cheek, she shrieked aloud - not in surprise at the attack, but at the pure pleasure it gave her. It reverberated through her core, resonating deep in her groin once more. His hand stroking the offended cheek did nothing to lessen the sensation, and his other hand suddenly slapping her right cheek seconds later only intensified it.

“That’s three already,” he commented, his voice growing husky. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

No, was the first thought that popped into her head. She was worried she’d blurted it out loud. With most of the blood in her body rushing south of her waist, it left precious little for her woozy brain to work with.

It didn’t matter - he’d read her swooning mind already. “I’m not sure you’ll want me to stop at twenty, anyway,” he added, his tone teasing, yet somehow not. His hands were massaging her buttocks once more, thumbs repeatedly pulling them apart and letting them relax shut, causing the throbbing between them to increase exponentially.

“Do you hear that?” he murmured softly, as if half to himself. “So wet. You’re getting so wet for me . . .” Slap! Both hands swatted her cheeks simultaneously. “. . . I don’t know how much longer I can keep from sliding my cock into that slippery pussy of yours.”

A whimper escaped her as she writhed on the tabletop. Her hands clawed at the streamers beneath her fingernails; her breath stirred the confetti and blew bits of it across the table. Only four spanks and she was a shameless, wanton thing before him, awaiting whatever he wanted to give her. His lips, his tongue, his hands, his cock, his entire body . . . kissing, biting, sucking, stroking, spanking, fucking. She wanted it all. And she wanted to give it all back to him in return.

Edward gazed down at Bella’s cheeks, pink and quivering under his tender assault. He couldn’t keep his hands off of them, so round and soft and inviting; so eager to be taunted, tested and taken. Her body stretched and yearned toward him like a cat in heat, and his hackles were up in readiness, every hair on his body as erect and alive as his desperate cock. He really didn’t know how much longer he could go without fucking her. Had he ever wanted anyone this much? With this kind of urgency, this sheer ache inside?

His hand came down across her beautiful buttocks once more, low and close to her swollen sex. Magic number five. Yes, that was the spot - the one to make her groans more guttural, more desperate. Yes. Please be as desperate for me as I am for you. Desperate for me to stop . . . desperate for me to never stop.

He leaned over her again, pressing his body against hers, loving the sear of her skin on his. She was grasping at the party decorations, panting; and when his body came in contact with hers, she arched into him again. Yes, she was as gone as he was. As hungry and ready for more. For everything.

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” he rasped into her ear, his teeth grabbing onto the lobe for a moment after he finished.

She would have laughed at his crudeness, at the absurdity of his question, if the hormones coursing through her hadn’t rendered everything he did the epitome of sex right now. She had no energy for humor or propriety. Everything he had said so far was the truth. She did love what he was doing to her. She was dripping with desire for him. Did she want him to fuck her?

“God, yes,” she gasped, reaching back to grab a shank of his hair in her hand. She turned her face toward his and he claimed her in a kiss, fierce with probing hunger. She felt him shift behind her, adjusting the tip of his erection to find her entrance. With one long, slow stroke, he plunged deep inside her, stabbing into her belly with an intensity she’d never felt before. She cried out in pain and wonder at how different this felt from the times before. Why was she so much tighter? It was almost like the first time, her vagina being pushed to new limits once more.

“It’s going to feel more intense from this angle,” he whispered in quick explanation. He wound one hand into her hair and gently rubbed her neck. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. Just relax. I’ll go slow until you’re used to it.”

His body undulated ever so slightly against hers, retreating a little before returning, rocking gently into her until she was rocking along with him. He was right, as always. The pressure of him inside her remained, but the shock of discomfort wore off, replaced by a gnawing hunger. He began to slide out a little more with each retreat, pushing all the way back in again, until her body began to welcome the slow, rhythmic invasion. Gradually she felt herself pushing back into each thrust, tilting her hips up to take the now delicious punishment of him stretching and filling her from behind.

Edward’s breathing grew heavier, his actions less careful, as Bella began to respond to this new pleasure. Her whimpers faded into rasps of desire similar to his own. He began to raise his body from hers as he picked up the pace. He was mesmerized by the vision of her prostrate before him, not just tolerating his cock anymore but taking it willingly, even gladly. The sight of it, not to mention the feel of it, was nearly more than he could take. How was he going to keep from coming too soon?

“You’re too much for me, Bella,” he murmured under his breath, skimming his hands down her back and squeezing her buttocks once more. “Too much.”

He gave her left cheek a smack as he pumped into her. He heard her breath catch, felt her body stiffen; and then she collapsed with a soft moan so erotic that he had to hear it again.

“Seven,” he whispered, resuming the count on Bella’s birthday spanking. He brought his hand down on her right cheek this time with another deep thrust. Her moan deepened along with it, and a new rhythm was born.

“Eight.” Thrust.

“Nine.” Thrust.

“Ten.” Thrust.

He slapped alternating buttocks as he drove his dick inside her, watching her flesh quiver and still before the next onslaught. He felt like a man possessed, hypnotized by the sights, sounds and sensations of this sexual play. As absorbed as he was in his own pleasure, he was still highly attuned to hers, listening and watching for any signs that she was not enjoying this game.

Was it even a game anymore? It felt more like a test. A test of trust, certainly; and perhaps of limits. She had promised to tell him if she had reached hers.

She had not.

Bella wasn’t sure what she had reached, but this new place, this new state of being, was oddly exhilarating. She supposed she should feel affronted instead of aroused, being bent over the table, fucked from behind and slapped on the ass like an animal, or one of those shameless girls in the online videos she’d watched. But she didn’t feel the shame or humiliation she thought she should, and she knew why.

Edward never made her feel cheap, or used.

Even in this act of dominance over her, she trusted him completely. She knew that if she said, “Enough,” he would stop. And if she wanted to turn the tables on him and be the aggressor, he would let her.

“Eleven.” Thrust.

Her right cheek smarted from the burn of his palm. The burning intensified as it traveled deep into her belly, where his cock filled her to the hilt once more. Fuck, that felt good. How? Why?

“Twelve.” Thrust.

Who cared? She moaned aloud this time as tiny shockwaves barreled inward from her left cheek. She wondered if he could feel them in his cock when he propelled himself into her. Maybe that was part of the appeal - not just the power trip of him towering over her, but the sheer physical pleasure of friction and force.

“Thirteen.” Thrust.

She gasped and reveled in the continued rhythmic onslaught. The heat of his harmless slaps was no longer dissipating, but seemed to be building, spreading. She knew what that meant. The blood was congesting in her nether regions. If he kept this up, he would make her come again, for the third time in less than an hour.

“Fourteen.” Thrust.

Her cry was more urgent this time. She didn’t need to say the words, did she? Surely he felt what was happening; what he was doing to her. She pushed up slightly on her forearms, pressing her ass flush against him, taking his cock as deeply as possible, grinding against him to intensify the sensations racking her groin. She craned her neck to look over her shoulder, to look him in the eyes. His gaze was the definition of smoldering, the conflagration in his eyes matching the one blazing between her legs.

“Fuck,” he hissed helplessly.

He’d never seen that expression on her face. He’d witnessed her surrender before; felt its irresistible pull. But he’d never seen her own it like this. She was prone and vulnerable before him, yet she had never owned him so completely. More than that, she owned the act that was taking place between them. She was master of the intensity, the urgency, the sheer ecstasy that was about to engulf them both.

“You’re amazing,” he said, his voice breaking under the weight of her power.

He no longer needed to count aloud - they both chanted the numbers in their fevered minds. Fifteen. Sixteen. Edward slapped Bella’s buttocks simultaneously now as he hammered her with increasing speed, fingers gently soothing her bright pink flesh for mere seconds between thrusts. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen.

Twenty.

Their bodies trembled and pulsated as one, but it still wasn’t close enough.

He reached over and pulled gently at her shoulders. “Stand up,” he said, as much a plea as an order. She pushed up on her hands and let his arms enfold her, pulling her body as close as he could and still angle his pelvis under her ass. He drove into her faster, his groin ramming against hers, forcing them both to whimper in desperation.

“I can’t hold out anymore,” he grunted into her hair, his hand sliding down to her sex and stroking her in time with his thrusts. He hoped she was close - she was, wasn’t she? - but his mind was lost to the escalating euphoria that was driving every cell in his body to imminent release.

“Let go,” Bella told him, just like the first time.

As soon as he did, she was able to do the same.

*

*

*

“This is nice.”

Bella bit her lip, hating how lame that sounded. She was still staring at Edward from across the candlelit bubbles in the two-person bathtub, and he was staring back. They had barely spoken since leaving finally leaving the dining room to take a bath, at his suggestion. What was there to say, anyway? Words were useless after such a visceral, all-consuming union. Their eyes conveyed emotions much deeper than their lips could ever describe. And yet Bella heard another clumsy cadence come out of her mouth, like some part of her was hell-bent on breaking the intimate spell they’d created.

“That fill-from-the-ceiling feature is pretty cool.” She lifted her pony-tailed head to glance at the overhead spigot which had filled the pedestal tub with a thin waterfall from above.

A tiny crease formed between Edward’s eyes. He reached for her hands, which were wrapped around her knees just beneath the water’s surface. She let go and took his hands instead, letting him pull her across the tub to cradle her on his lap. She slid one arm around his neck and rested the other hand on his chest beneath the bubbles. He searched her face intently for a moment.

“Bella, did I hurt you? Be honest with me.”

Her eyes widened. “No. You didn’t,” she assured him, shaking her head. “Not at all.”

He gave her a faint grin. “I didn’t think so, but you scared me for a second there. I don’t want things to get awkward between us. You have to tell me if I do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“But that’s why I came to you in the first place - because I wanted you to pull me out of my comfort zone. Get me to try things I never thought I would; have experiences I never dreamed of. It’s one of my favorite things about you.” Her fingers played with the wet hair curling on the back of Edward’s neck, and a wry smile twisted her lips. “But every time I’m with you, I understand more and more why you’re such a popular escort. Why you make such good money.”

Edward stiffened, leaning back to look Bella in the eyes. “What are you saying? You think that what we’ve shared here tonight is typical? Just another date night for me?” His accompanying laugh was incredulous, bordering on offended.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean . . . you’re good at what you do. Like, mind-blowing, earth-shaking, 3D Technicolor, screaming-orgasm good.”

His laughter multiplied, crinkling the skin around his eyes and making him look like a little boy for a second. “Bella, it’s only like that for us because of how we feel about each other. Without the emotion, the rest is just . . .” he searched for the right descriptor. “Mechanical. Like a well-choreographed ballet with no music. Enjoyable, but hollow. No heart or soul. Forgettable.” He pulled her closer, pressing his lips to her cheek. “You brought the music to me. The heart, the soul. My unforgettable girl.”

His lips found hers then, tender and convincing. How many men thought like he did, that loveless sex was empty? Maybe that was the one good thing that had come of his years as an escort - he’d lost interest in casual sex.

“I’m a pretty lucky girl,” she murmured between kisses. “I’m not sure how many guys your age share your philosophy.”

He shrugged and gave her that lopsided grin. “Well, they’re idiots.”

She giggled and nodded. “Some of them are, yeah.”

“Speaking of idiot males, you never did tell me how your pre-birthday party went last night. Did you have a good time?”

“Hey, be nice,” she scolded gently. “It was fine. Nothing like tonight, of course.”

“I should hope not,” he replied with a smirk.

“I don’t think anything could top tonight. Or any night I spend with you,” she said softly, her foot gliding down his shin under the water. “But it was pretty fun. It got better when Alice and Jasper showed up.”

“Alice told me they put a stealth operation in motion to rescue you from your ex-boyfriend.” He sounded mildly annoyed, or like he was fishing for more information.

“They did. It worked great, for a little while.” She thought back to Mike’s date invitation, deliberating if she should tell Edward about it. She decided not to open that can of worms. After all, she certainly didn’t want to hear about any of his job-related interactions with other girls.

“Mike’s not that bad,” she said with a shrug. “He just needs to get over his crush on me. I tried to suggest that he show a little more interest in a mutual friend of ours from high school, because I think she still has a crush on him. I’m not sure it worked, though. And honestly, she’s been so bitchy lately, I’m beginning to think he could do better.”

“Sounds like you still have a soft spot for the guy.” Bella couldn’t tell if his remark was accusatory or simply observational.

“Well, if by ‘soft spot’ you mean I still care about what happens to him, then I suppose I do,” she admitted. “I like having him for a friend. He makes me laugh. He’s good at keeping my mind occupied . . . you know, on those nights when I spend most of my time trying not to wonder what you’re doing.”

There was definitely a little accusation there, but she couldn’t help it. She was in too deep to ignore Edward’s occupation for much longer. Even if he could manage to keep from sleeping with his clients, she still didn’t like the time he spent with them any more than he liked the thought of her turning to Mike for company.

Edward was pretty sure she didn’t mean for her words to inflict such a stinging wound, but he felt it in the pit of his stomach, sharp and precise. It was a stab of jealousy over another guy’s success where he had failed her. Or worse yet, comfort where he had caused her pain. But he knew he had no right to begrudge her finding solace in someone else when he couldn’t be there. He couldn’t object to her friendships with other guys, because he had no leg to stand on. Hell, he couldn’t even blame Mike for wanting more from her. He could only compliment the bastard on his good taste.

“Bella, you don’t need to worry about what I’m doing with anyone else. I told you, I haven’t been sleeping with my clients.”

“But how long can you keep it up? No pun intended,” she retorted with a mirthless grin.

“Forever,” was his instant response. “That’s how I feel. I don’t intend to let sex be a part of my job anymore. And even if I did, it wouldn’t mean a damned thing to me. Mechanical, remember? Any interaction I have with clients can’t touch what we have. It’s not possible.”

He hated the doubt that lingered in her eyes; in her voice when she spoke. “I want to believe that, more than anything. It’s so easy when I’m with you, like nothing else exists. But when we’re apart . . . I start having all these crazy fears. And I hate it. I hate being so insecure. Even if you were completely free to be with me, I wouldn’t want to be one of those crazy girlfriends who has to keep tabs on you every minute, and gets jealous over every girl you talk to.”

“You have no reason to be.” He lifted one sudsy hand to her neck, rubbing his thumb along her jaw. “I don’t know how to make you believe it. I can tell you until I’m blue in the face, but I know it means nothing until I back it up with my actions. And I will, if it’s the last thing I do. I’m going to prove myself you.”

Bella nodded, searching his face and finding the conviction she needed. “I’ll try to be patient. Just promise me you’ll do the same for me. I’ll remember your dates for work mean nothing, if you promise to remember that my dates with friends have nothing to do with how I feel about you.”

Edward flinched slightly. “Meaning, if you want to spend time with your ex, or the pothead, or the naked art class model, or any other guy who gets a hard-on for you, I should just let it slide. Is that it?”

“I am not going out with the naked model,” she assured him with a grunt of distaste. “But yeah, basically, if you want me to trust you, you have to trust me in return.”

Edward tried to keep his sneer in check. “I do trust you. It’s the idiot males I don’t trust.”

“You don’t have to trust them. I’d never let anything go too far,” she declared.

Edward blanched at her naivete. “Christ, Bella. You’ve got to be careful. Some guys don’t take ‘no’ for an answer. That’s what I’m worried about.”

Bella sighed. “You sound like my dad. Don’t worry - he’s made sure I carry around a can of pepper spray at all times, so he’s way ahead of you.”

“I think I’d like to meet your father someday,” Edward answered with his usual lopsided grin. “Sounds like my kind of guy.”

“Oh, God. I can’t even think about that. Not until we make up some kind of alibi to disguise how we actually met. He can never, ever know about that.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice. There are definitely a few things that need to stay between you and me.”

“Quite a few things,” she agreed with a sly smile. He returned it, and their eyes completed the conversation.

*

*

*

Bella felt incredibly relaxed after their bath. She stifled a yawn as Edward dried her off, knowing that she must be tired if his touch only soothed her instead of exciting her. When he helped her into in the plush, hotel-issued robe, she felt even more cared for than the first night he had wrapped her it its warmth. She closed her eyes and smiled, letting him tie the robe closed just as before.

Edward smiled down at her drowsy face, her eyelashes grazing her cheeks for several seconds before raising to let her look up at him.

“I think maybe it’s your bedtime, sleepy girl,” he suggested, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“It’s not that late,” she protested, like a child who was afraid she’d miss the good part of the evening.

“Late enough. Didn’t you have an early class this morning? Naked models and all?”

She chuckled at the tinge of sourness in his tone. “Yes, I did. And she left her robe on this time, though it was hanging off one shoulder while she reclined on a couch.”

“Ah. The demurely sexy pose. Maybe you’d like to demonstrate that for me,” he said hopefully, gesturing toward the bed in the next room.

“I’d be happy to. But I’m afraid if I actually lie down, I’ll be more asleep than sexy.”

“You clearly have no idea how sexy you are when you’re sleeping,” he replied with his crooked grin, one eyebrow quirking to match.

“Ha! I doubt that. I couldn’t be half as sexy as you. Even when you’re snoring,” she grumbled, giving him a light shove on his terry-cloth covered chest.

“I was just going to say the same about you,” he said, the grin growing devilish.

“I do not snore!”

His laugh was indulgent. “Okay, sure. You don’t snore. Girls never snore.”

Her eyes widened with chagrin. “Seriously? I snore?”

His grin stretched wide enough to crinkle his eyes into twinkling slits. “Just a little. I wouldn’t even call it snoring. More like . . . purring.” He dropped his forehead to hers and pulled at the lapels of her robe, drawing her closer. “It’s adorable. Honestly.”

“Oh, good grief. Now I’ll be afraid to fall asleep,” she complained.

Edward pulled back enough to give her a severe look. “Are you kidding me? Now you’re going to be self-conscious about what you do when you’re unconscious?”

Bella blanched for a second, then broke into a rueful chuckle. “Sorry.”

Edward shook his head, then gave her shoulders a gentle shake as well. “When are you going to realize that all those ridiculous self-imagined flaws of yours are the very things that make me crazy about you?”

She stared up at him in wonder that he didn’t see the irony. “I guess I will when you do the same.”

He stared back, then emitted his own rueful chuckle. “Point taken, Miss Swan.” He sighed and ran his hands gently up and down her shoulders. “Let’s not argue anymore. I think we’re both a little tired.” He nodded toward the bedroom. “Shall we?”

Bella nodded back, then turned and entered the room. The bedroom was as subdued and tasteful as the dining room was not, glowing softly in the light of several strategically placed candles. She could see two long-stemmed, blood-red roses laid between the pristine white pillows, and she smiled at their simple beauty.

“That wasn’t an argument, by the way,” she said to Edward over her shoulder as she approached the bed.

“No?” he replied, right on her heels.

“Definitely not. I remember the fights my mom and dad used to have when I was a kid, before they divorced. Trust me, you and I don’t argue.” She stopped and turned back to him when she got to the bed. “We discuss.”

He nodded, stopping across from her and taking her hands in his. “I’m sorry you went through that. I was lucky - my parents were really happy together. The only disagreements they had were over trivial things. Nothing major. It must have been hard for you.”

Bella shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. But I think I knew all along that my mom couldn’t handle small-town living. She and Dad loved each other, but they didn’t know how to make each other happy. They didn’t want the same things out of life. I think my mom was too young when they got married. Although, I have to admit, I’m not sure she’d feel any different about it now that she’s older, either. She eventually remarried a ballplayer, so she gets to travel all over the place with him.”

Edward gave her a wan smile. “Maybe that’s where you got your adventurous streak, then. From your mother.”

“Oh, definitely. But I’m still not sure she’d approve of how I chose to end my virginity,” she admitted, cringing slightly. “I’m really a lot more like my dad, most of the time. Maybe that’s why he and I get along so well. We don’t have to talk a lot - we just sort of let each other be.”

Edward squeezed her hands in his. “Like I said, I’d like to meet them someday. See where you came from. It sounds like you inherited the best qualities of both of them.”

She almost answered, “That’s debatable,” but she held her tongue. She simply smiled and let him be right.

She turned her attention to the bed beside them, its silk comforter turned down just below the snow-white shams. She let go of Edward’s hands and reached for the roses that lay between the pillows.

“What, no rose petals strewn all over the bed?” she teased. She twirled the flowers beneath her nose and inhaled their delicate scent.

“There’s a place for over-the-top, and a place for subtlety,” he explained.

“So the dining room table is the place for wild sex, and the bedroom is the place for subtlety?” she asked with a snort.

“I’d say that’s up to you,” he replied with a half-grin.

Her answering grin was weak. “I don’t think I can take any more over-the-top tonight,” she admitted. “You wore me out.”

His eyes crinkled again. “I’d tell you I’m sorry about that, but it would be a lie.”

“I’m not sorry, either,” she told him. “Not in the least.”

“Good. That’s a relief,” he whispered, leaning in to give her a kiss on the temple. “Why don’t you turn down the covers, and let’s get some sleep.”

“Okay.” She turned and set the flowers on the nightstand, then pulled down the covers on the bed. She started at the sight of a flat, square object right below the pillows. She peered at it and quickly perceived that it was another gift, wrapped in pale yellow paper with blue ribbon, the exact shade her cake had been.

“Edward, what is this?” she exclaimed, picking up the small box and waving it at him.

“Beats me. I guess the maid knew it was your birthday, too.”

Bella shook her head at his mischievous grin. “Maid, my ass,” she muttered. “I can’t believe you got me another present.”

He made a noise of exasperation. “Can we please dispense with the protests? Just open it,” he ordered impatiently.

She raised an amused eyebrow at him. “I love it when the real Edward Masen shows himself,” she said. “This is for you, baby.”

And with that, she tore the wrapping from the package as quickly and noisily as she could, flinging the ribbon and paper at him for good measure. He was still laughing and wadding it up while she ripped the lid from the box and tossed it on the bed. But when she pushed aside the lavender tissue paper within, she stopped short with a loud gasp.

They both held their breath as she took in the sight of the charm bracelet nestled inside the box. The bracelet itself was a delicate silver chain, but the charms attached glowed a deep, shiny gold in the candlelight.

Bella finally exhaled with the words, “It’s beautiful.” She pulled the piece of jewelry from the box and held it up, twisting it to and fro to let it sparkle.

Edward let out a breath of relief. “You like it?”

“I love it,” was her instant reply. “It’s so pretty.” She sat down on the bed, laying the bracelet in her palm so she could study it more closely. “What do these designs mean?” she wondered aloud, fingering the bracelet with her other hand and examining the five gold charms attached.

“They’re Celtic symbols,” Edward explained as he sat down across from her. He reached out and gently took the bracelet from her. He began by pointing out the image of a circle intersected by a stylized cross. “This is a Celtic cross, which is the sign for faith.” He turned the bracelet to the next charm. “The anchor symbolizes hope. The heart, of course, means love; and this Celtic knot is actually called a Triquetra, which stands for trinity.” He turned the jewelry to display the last charm. “The four-leaf clover is pretty self-explanatory.”

“It’s beautiful,” she repeated, feeling like she couldn’t say it enough.

“I’m glad you like it.” He fiddled with the delicate clasp until it opened. Bella followed his lead and held out her arm so he could put the bracelet around it and fasten the clasp. She twirled her wrist back and forth a few times, making the dangling charms sparkle once more in the candlelight. Suddenly the meaning of the symbols hit her and she gasped in surprise.

“It’s like the poem on your bookmark!” she exclaimed. “The meanings for the four-leaf clover - faith, hope, love and luck.”

“Right,” he said with a smile. “That was my mother’s favorite poem. My father knew that, of course. He had this made for her birthday the year I was born. He added the Triquetra specially. It usually stands for the holy trinity, but in this case he also meant it be a symbol of the three of us - our family.”

Bella stared at him, shaking her head, holding her arm out to him once more. “Another heirloom? Edward, I can’t accept this. Not with that kind of family history attached to it.”

Edward’s head was shaking now, too, in disbelief. How could she still fail to understand what she meant to him?

He wrapped his fingers around her bracelet-covered wrist and grasped it firmly, then stared intently into her eyes. When he spoke, his voice was low and barely controlled.

“Bella. My mother is long gone. There is no one else I want wearing this but you. I had none of the things this bracelet represents until I met you. You’re the one who gave me faith again - in myself, in you, in us. You gave me hope for a future I’d given up on completely. And you showed me what love was when I was sure I didn’t deserve it - when I had nothing but hatred for myself. The day I met you was the luckiest day of my life. The day I understood exactly what that silly, rhyme-y old poem was about.”

They both laughed at this, but it sounded more like a sob. Tears were already trickling down Bella’s face, and welling in Edward’s eyes. He gripped her wrist more tightly, pressing the charms against her skin, pushing their mark into her flesh. She barely noticed. She could only feel the sear of his eyes burning into hers and the velvet web of his words ensnaring her soul.

“You are my good luck charm,” he said. “My anchor. My religion. My heart.”

She couldn’t breathe. If she took a breath, she knew she would choke on it.

“I love you, Bella. Everything I have is yours. None of it means a damned thing without you.”

She emitted a strangled sob, trying in vain to catch her breath. She was shaking, overwhelmed at the emotion flooding her. It was too much, this declaration - the one thing she couldn’t let herself imagine in her fantasies about Edward or their relationship. But as soon as she heard him say the words, his voice quivering with the intensity of their meaning, she knew they were the ones she’d been waiting for. The ones she was afraid she’d never hear.

Her own voice came to life now, jumping at the chance to speak the words she’d been afraid she’d never get to say back. Words she hoped were the opposite of useless and clumsy.

“You have no idea what you’ve done for me,” she said hoarsely. “How you brought me to life. Made me feel beautiful when I thought I was ugly. Made me whole when I was empty inside.”

He frowned and one of his tears spilled over, running down his cheek. She could see that he didn’t believe it, couldn’t take credit for her awakening. But surely he had seen it, felt it, like the bloom unfolding from a tightly wound rosebud. She continued, desperate to convince him.

“I needed you just as much as you needed me. Wanted you in a way I was afraid I’d never want anyone. Loved you the way I always dreamed I could love someone. I love you, Edward. So much. So much.”

And then the words were swallowed by his lips on hers, taking them back, returning them in kisses instead. The words had done their job. They retreated now, yet still infused every emotion, every action, with the gravity of their meaning. Each caress, each kiss, each look between Edward and Bella was intensified by the verbal expression of what had been there all along. The words gave birth to a symphony; their bodies the instruments, their hearts and souls the melody and harmony.

They came together in the music of love, a gorgeous ballet more meaningful than either of them had dared to hope for. Their weariness was gone; their doubt and worry had joined it. There was nothing in this moment but the crescendo of emotion between them, building to a euphoric climax of utter surrender to one another, and to themselves.

But the pinnacle was the grace note at the finish, sweeter than any they’d ever heard.

“I love you.”

*

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