13 Years Later…
“Don’t get me wrong…I love my
husband, but I swear to God, what I really need is a wife,” I grumble while
trying to wrestle the stroller out of the back of the van.
“What in the hell are you talking
about? Here, give me those,” Rosalie says, taking the fold up chairs off of my
shoulder while I continue trying to get all of our gear out and organized.
“What I mean is that I need someone
who will do at least half of this shit for me.”
“Mama, you said an ugly word,” my
very observant three year old daughter points out.
“Yes, I know. Mama isn’t supposed to
say ugly words. Rose, give her five bucks. I’m likely to say a few more before
we ever make it out to the field,” I huff.
Why on God’s green earth I volunteered…wait…no…why I got volunteered to be the team mom is beyond
me. How am I supposed to get a three year old, a six month old and a cooler
full of drinks and snacks out to the field all at the same time?
“Look…just take some deep breaths and
let me help you with this stuff.”
Rosalie threw the chairs, umbrella,
snacks and my diaper bag into her cute little wagon, got Paige out of the van
and started off towards the Rec Center baseball complex…all while still looking
gorgeous.
I should have stopped being her friend years ago.
“Bella…quit pouting and come on!
You’re gonna be late for Noah’s first game!”
“You’re lucky, you know. Two kids,
one pregnancy, and done. I think you had it easier.”
“Tell the spider web of stretch marks
that’s in permanent residence all over my stomach that. It’s only easier now, sister. Not so much when they were
babies. That was twice the bottles, twice the diapers, twice the tantrums. But
then again, I guess as soon as you outgrew a phase you were starting all over
again.” She stops at the end of the row of cars so we can catch up to them and
all make it into the park safely. “Hmm…never thought of it like that. You’re
right. You shoulda had twins.”
Emmett and Rosalie got married six
months after Edward and I did. After being married two years we decided that we
were ready to have a baby. Emmett, never one to be left out of anything, helped
Rosalie to decide that they were also ready to start a family. Lo and behold,
four months after we announced that we were expecting Noah, they told us they
were pregnant, too…with twins!
“Exactly. Now come on. The Mama
Skanks will beat us there if we don’t high tail it and you know how they like
to ogle. I’m not in the mood for ogling and I didn’t bring near enough cash to
pay off my daughter so I can tell them off how I really want to.”
Paige runs ahead of us when she sees
her daddy, Uncle Emmett, brother and cousins warming up in the outfield beside
us.
Edward allows her to help with the
bats during the game, which scares the living shit out of me, but I have to
trust that he won’t let anything happen to my baby…either one of them.
This is Noah’s first baseball game
where they won’t be using a tee to hit off of and I’m a nervous wreck. He
already shows above average talent, even for a six year old, and I just know
what that can lead to down the road.
I take a deep breath and try to put
it out of my head as I get us set up.
All this crap for one hour of little league baseball. You’d think
we were here to camp out for an all-day freakin’ tournament!
“There you are,” I hear him say as
the chain link fence clinks against the pole when he grips it.
Edward.
His voice still gets me every time.
Soft. Deep. Relaxed. Mine.
I turn around and even though I saw
him not even an hour ago, my breath catches.
Pinstripes. Only the jersey, but still. It’s
white, striped with black and hanging loose over his jeans, his black ball cap
with white lettering pulled low with the curve-shaped brim shading his very
green eyes.
Oh, I do
still love baseball season.
“There you are,” I say, taking a squealing Jonah out of the stroller and
meeting my husband at the fence.
Edward is all smitten and lopsided
grins as he sticks his fingers through the fence to rub Jonah’s dark peach fuzz
hair and little nose.
“Are the boys ready?”
“Yep. Seem to be. Noah, Grant and
Garrett are anyway. They’ve already been practicing their slides.”
No. Not slides. I’m sure all the color drains from
my face. I try to muffle the whimper, but as usual, nothing goes unnoticed by
my husband.
“Pretty…we talked about this. It’s
just part of it. Don’t worry. He’ll be fine. They’re still little. No six year
old can turn that kind of double play just yet,” he soothes.
In April of Edward’s senior year, they were playing a long weekend
series against their biggest rival in the conference. He was being scouted by
several major league teams at the time, and probably would have been a second
or third round draft, when he was injured.
It was the last inning of a Saturday double-header and our team
was up by only one point. Edward was playing pretty deep in the infield when
their best hitter, who had a wickedly quick swing and was notorious for consistently
pulling the ball down the third base line, misjudged a curve ball but still
managed to drill a line drive to second base.
Needing to pull off a double play in order to keep the lead and
win the game, Colin James, the second baseman who had already missed his
opportunity to tag the runner between first and second base, threw the ball
over to Edward. But the ball was thrown wide and a little low so instead of
coming across the back of the bag like he normally does in order to square
himself up and make the throw to first base, he was coming almost at full speed
across the top of the bag and the runner slid right into Edward…into his knee
taking him down and tearing his ACL and MCL in the process.
It was the end of his college career, and while he still had
several teams who were more than willing to take him on and rehab him to get
him ready for training the following winter, he decided it just wasn’t what he
wanted. As a shortstop his reflexes have to be lightning fast, forward and
backward, side to side, ready to pounce at the drop of a dime and while he
loved the sport, he just didn’t want force the rehab and then risk possible
re-injury.
I was a little relieved, to be honest. I had always worried about
what his playing in the Majors would do to our relationship, but at the same
time I hated that it was a dream that he wouldn’t get to fulfill. He didn’t
dwell on it too much, though. Mr. Planner, always with a plan B.
It took a couple of weeks for the swelling to go down before he
could even have the surgery to reconstruct the ligaments. After that he began
therapy with the trainers here at school before going on to graduate magna cum
laude at the end of May…with a slight limp.
With many tears shed between the two of us, he moved back to his
hometown where he continued his rehab at one of the best orthopedic centers in
the state. It just so happened that that was also where Emmett was entering
into physical therapy school. Edward was just glad to know that he’d be
finished with his rehab long, long before Emmett got to use him as a guinea
pig.
He started working in the late part of the summer for a large
company as a web designer. Eventually, he even gave in and did some contract
work for Cullen Pharmaceuticals, redesigning their entire website for a very hefty
profit. Other companies saw it and liked his work so much that they sought him
out as well, moving him up in his company rather quickly.
He still loves his job and I’m so
very proud of him. His hard work and success affords me the chance to do everything I love…work part time, two nights a
week, as a nurse in the pediatric E.R. and stay at home with the kids the rest
of the time.
“I just hate it when he gets hurt, you know
that. I see too much of it at work. But when it’s my baby that’s hurt, I’m a mom, not a nurse. I just can’t…”
“Hey, hey, c’mere,” he murmurs and
bends at the knee, puckering his lips between a diamond in the chain link,
brushing a warm wet kiss on my lips and then another two.
“Better?” he smirks.
“For now,” I tease.
“Hmmm…later then?” he suggests with a single raised eyebrow…that I kind of wanted to lick.
“How ‘bout sooner rather than later?”
“Daddy!
Come on! It’s time!” Noah yells from
the dugout, waving at me as he takes his place on the bench inside.
“Always interrupted…just like the old
days. Better go. Love you,” he says, sparing me one last kiss. “You, too,
Little Man.”
He winks and tips the brim of his cap
at me and then struts off to the dugout, him and Emmett hooting and hollering
and getting the little boys good and riled up before the game.
……
The following Friday afternoon I’m
curled up on the living room couch reading a book when I realize that it’s too
quiet in the house.
Noah went home with Grant and Garrett
after school to spend the night before tomorrow’s game.
Putting my book down, I take a quick
walk through the house looking for trouble. Who knows where I’ll find her this
time.
Jonah is asleep in his crib, catching
one last cat nap before I take him and Paige over to Esme and Carlisle’s house
for a few hours. Edward and I are long overdue on some alone time, clothing absolutely not permitted.
Paige isn’t in her room which is a
problem because that means she’s somewhere in this house and I never heard her
get up from her nap. Stealth must just be
in the gene pool.
Finally, I find her in the play room
coloring quietly.
“Whatcha doin’?”
“I just coloring.”
“Why didn’t you come find me when you
got up from your nap? You know the rules.”
“Umm…I wanted to color.”
“You scared Mommy. You should always
come find me or call for me when you get up, okay?”
“Okay, Mommy.”
Sigh. I’ll be repeating that again tomorrow…and the next day…and
probably the next.
“What are you coloring?”
“Umm…Alibaby.”
“Alibaby…what’s an…oh! You mean Alice’s new baby?”
“Mmhmm. He’s in a pink blanket ‘cause
pink is better than blue.”
“Oh. Well I’m sure she’ll love it.
Let me see.”
All I can make out is something that
looks like a circle with two dots and then a bunch of pink scribble when I take
a closer look at the notebook she’s drawing in. I’ve never seen it before and
it’s not like a composition notebook. It’s leather bound and the pages look
older.
“Paige…where did you find this
notebook?” I ask her carefully, not wanting to make her think she was in
trouble…yet.
Blank stare.
Crickets.
Another genetic trait. Obviously reassurance is needed, so I try
again.
“Lady Love, you aren’t in trouble. I
just want to know where you found this cool notebook.”
“Um, I found it in da closet.”
“Which closet?”
“Da one in your room when I was
hiding from Noah behind Daddy’s clothes.”
Hmm. Curiouser and curiouser.
“Okay. Well why don’t I take the
picture out of this book carefully so that you can give it to Alice when we go
visit her tomorrow while you go potty one more time. We need to leave pretty
soon, okay?”
“’Kay, Mommy.”
She hops down and runs off to the
bathroom and I start thumbing through the notebook. My heart stops, recognizing
the handwriting immediately.
…
January 24, 2011
I’ve seen her…looking. But she looks at me differently than the others do. She gently chews on her
full bottom lip, occasionally furrows her brow and cocks her head like she’s
trying to figure me out. She blushes when she’s caught…her nose and cheeks, her
neck and further down under the collar of her shirt. For the first time in a
long time…I think I’d like to know more.
January 27, 2011
I find myself wanting her attention, just waiting for her eyes to
meet mine.
February 3, 2011
I was running late for study hall today and decided to go ahead
and dress for practice. But being in autopilot also meant I dressed all the way
down to my cleats. I didn’t think about the God awful noise they’d make in the
library. I took a little ribbing from Emmett and Jasper about it, but the good
news?
I definitely had Bella’s attention.
February 12, 2011
The way we trade glances and smiles…it’s getting to me…in lots of
ways. I think I’m going to have to spend extra time at the batting cages…get
rid of the excess…energy.
We can’t dance around each other forever. I want to know her. I
have to talk to her soon. This shyness is getting ridiculous…hers and mine.
…
Oh my God! It’s a journal! Edward’s journal! From when we were
dating! How have I never known about
this?
...
February 13, 2011
I told her about Bella.
About how she's Emmett's cousin but not really anything like him. About how
beautiful she is and how bad I want to ask her out. About how she seems so shy
that I'm not sure how to approach her without scaring her off.
I
die. This man is precious. He always has been and this…well this is just
written proof!
Lucy's suggestion?
"Well, you're always at the library when you see her, so why not say, 'I
made sure to bring my library card 'cause I knew I'd be checkin' you
out.'" I swear we aren't related.
...
I
laugh so hard I snort and just the time I do, my very amused husband sneaks up
on me.
“And
just what are you laughing at?” he asks, walking over to me with the cutest
girl in the world on his hip, her copper curls tucked just beneath his matching
colored scruffy chin.
“Oh! Shit!” I scream.
“You said an ugly word again, Mama,”
Paige giggles.
Edward reaches into his back pocket
and retrieves his wallet, fishing out another dollar for what is quickly
becoming hundreds.
“Go put this in your piggy bank and get
your shoes. You can finish watching Dora ‘til it’s time to go.”
“’Kay, Daddy.” Her little arms
squeeze him around his neck, holding him closer to her little pink lips that
smack a big wet kiss on the side of his face before he puts her down and she
runs off once again.
“You know…between you and Emmett,
she’ll have college paid for by the time she hits the second grade,” he
chuckles, walking over to me slowly…deliberately.
Uunngg…come to Mama, big boy.
“While completely true, still not
funny.”
“What are you reading?”
“Oh…um…well…Paige found it,” I
stammer, holding it out to him and completely throwing my three year old under
the bus.
Dear Members of the Board: Please make that Mother of the Year
plaque out to Bella Cullen. Thank you.
“Oh, God, I haven’t seen this thing
in ages!” he chuckles.
He sits down beside me on the floor
and begins thumbing through the pages, sometimes laughing, sometimes groaning.
Memories. They have a way of making
you wonder just what in the hell you were thinking sometimes.
“How much of this did you read?” he
asks, clearly still amused.
I curl up in his lap, burying my nose
in his neck and just…sniffing him. Still clean, warm sunshine, but no
longer a boy. No…he’s all man, now.
I know I’m not in trouble, but a
little pre-playtime warm up never hurt anyone.
“Just a few entries. You totally
should have used Lucy’s pick up line. I would have fallen for it,” I giggle.
“Hmm, I just bet.”
“I liked seeing your thoughts.
Reminded me what it was like back then, all shyness and newness and first
kisses.”
“We’ve certainly changed.”
“Yes we have. And for the better.”
“What’s your favorite from in here?”
I flip through the pages, reliving so
many magical memories through his eyes and short but sweet words.
“Well, I like reading the ones where
you actually wrote how you felt about me, especially the racy ones.”
“Racy?”
“Mmhm…like this one.”
February 27, 2011
If I thought Bella was
beautiful before, now I think she's perfect. Her skin with the creams and the
blushes…everywhere. Her hair all over my pillow. The arch of her back and the
curl of her toes when she has an orgasm…
...
“Oh,
yeah…that was a good night,” he whispers in my ear, teasing the rim with his
nose and the lobe with his tongue.
“And
this one,” I point out, swallowing hard. It’s getting a little warm
in here, I think.
...
March 22, 2011
I talk to Bella every day,
several times a day and we finally got a chance to Skype. She's a devil woman,
though. Perfect tits on display. Killing me. Like I'm not jerking off enough as
it is thanks to her dirty good morning texts. I really hope she keeps up with
those when we get back to school.
...
“Mmhm…I
remember that. And these,” he says, his hands making a tickly-warm path
under my shirt until he reaches my breasts, teasing my nipples through the thin
cotton before dipping his fingers just inside the cups.
“Oh…ah…and
this one, too.”
...
May 12, 2011
God she's sexy without even
trying. She's giving and I swear there are days when all I want to do is
take…take it all…her mouth, her tits, her sex…
Shit…cold shower time.
...
I’ve turned around in his lap,
straddling him while I read his words back to him.
“A shower would be good. But not
a cold one. I’m thinking,” he says, trailing off while kissing my neck and
collarbones and then lowering his hand to rub between my legs.
Sweet. Fancy. Moses. Right
there.
“What are you thinking?”
I have to know. For the love of all that is holy, don’t make me use my imagination
when the reality is so much better.
“Hot shower. Like…rain in
August…humid…almost sticky…hard to breathe…panting…water rolling down your skin
while I…”
“What? Say it,” I beg, moving his
hand so I can rock against the hardness I feel underneath me.
“Lick. Every. Last. Drop.” He thrusts
his hips up into mine, strong and with a freakin’ purpose.
Mothercusser.
“Fuck, Pretty. How long ‘til Dora’s
over?” he groans and grips my hips, helping me to grind.
“Ten minutes…no…seven.
Commercials at the end. She never watches,” I pant.
“Then you better hold on.”
Hell, yes!
Bottoms are all that count when
you’re getting naked in a play room floor and you’re already on borrowed time.
He thrusts and buries himself inside me. He hisses and I moan and God, it’s just so damn good. That first feeling, fitting together, hard and deep meeting wet and warm. But right now
isn’t the time to relish. We have all
night for that. Something I swear on my life I’ll do. But right
now…right now I just…
“I need you,” he says, finishing my
thought.
“Yes.”
Our hips move together, pushing and
pulling, a synchronized rhythm from the beginning, a dance memorized with so
many years of loving.
“You gotta come on, Pretty. I can’t
hold out much longer.”
“Harder, then.”
His nostrils flare as he pounds and
grunts and the complete carnality of it all drives me mad with lust and love
and I bite his bicep to muffle my moan of complete and total ecstasy. My legs
squeeze around his hips tighter until his uneven thrusts jerk, then still.
He shifts to the side, propping on
one elbow as he traces the lines of my face.
“How much time do we have left?”
I look at the watch on my limp noodle
of an arm.
“Two minutes,” I reply, patting him
on the ass.
“A new record,” he chuckles, placing
his finger in the indention on my bottom lip, waiting for me to kiss and nibble
like I always do.
“Not even close,” I say, giving him
what he wants and then pushing him off so we can quickly redress. If we’re
lucky Paige will take her time coming up the steps, or perhaps find some other
trouble to get into on the way.
“Remember that time at my parent’s
house? When you came to visit for the Fourth of July the summer after you
graduated?”
“Oh, yeah. Hey, I had to be quick.
The mothers were in full on hover mode that weekend.”
“This is why we live close to your
parents and not mine.”
“Mama! Daddy! Dora’s over! Time for
Meme and Pop-Pop’s house!” we hear from a little voice ascending the stairs.
“Speaking of,” he murmurs against my
temple, wrapping his arms around me while our toddler tries her best to push us
apart.
“You get Jonah up and changed and
I’ll finish packing his bag; then we can go,” I say over my shoulder.
“Hey…what about later?” he asks, lazy
grin and wicked smirk blazing.
Good thing I already need new panties.
“Oh, don’t you worry, Crackerjack.
I’ve got plans.”
“Well you know how I like plans,
Pretty.”
