AN: Hey peeps. AHelm here. Thank you to all of you who voted for us in the Indies. Final voting goes from 7/22-7/26, and although Left Holding the Bag is not on the list, there are some other fabulous stories that deserve your votes.

Anyway. Not my characters. A little BPOV coming your way.

It was a date for all intents and purposes.

I had gone on a date with Edward Masen.

It was all I could think about.

The morning after dawned, and even as I rushed around to go to work—it was Thursday, after all—I couldn't stop replaying the final events from the prior evening in my mind.

When I arrived at the office Edward and Alice shared, I was nervous. As much as Alice assured me the meeting wasn't anything serious, just a night on the town with a few friends, I couldn't help but dwell on the fact that I'd be with Edward, not in a professional manner, for an entire evening. The long, lean lines of his body were not lost on me; merely thinking about them from the other side of the office door caused me to fight to keep my breathing even. He was … devastating. So handsome, so smart, so caring. With my hand on the doorknob, I decided then and there that I would try to forget about the case and focus on Edward tonight, even though I had yet to call him by his first name.

It had leapt into my throat—his name that is—when I saw him sprawled on the floor after his chair slid out from under him. Without thinking, I'd instantly moved to be at his side. I let myself hope that the look of contentedness on his face as I knelt beside him was more than a look of comfort at the face of a friend. I couldn't just be Edward's friend; not anymore.

The three of us had met up with Jasper, who was apparently Alice's steady, and had dinner before going to see a play. As interesting as said play was, I must admit that I missed the last half hour of it thanks wholly to my preoccupation with the idea of a twenty minute car ride alone with Edward. I had presumed that he would take me home, and the idea had my heart all 'a-twitter.

We said our goodbyes outside the theatre.

"You sure I can't give you two a ride too? We're all headed the same way," Edward said to Alice when she suggested she and Jasper catch a cab.

"Nah. 'Sides. It'll give us some alone time." Alice winked at me and grinned before giving me a hug and a peck on the cheek.

I thanked my lucky stars for Alice. Without her, I'd never have been able to spend an evening with Edward the way I just had and it was all so … wonderful. As we stood there out in the cold, the snow threatening to fall, Edward took my arm and led me to his car. My thoughts of gratitude toward Alice paired with nerves the size of Central Park caused me to send up a silent prayer for the strength to act normally in the car on the way back to my apartment.

He opened the door for me and I slid into the seat. He'd then closed it and made his way to the driver's side. Once he'd settled into his seat and turned the vehicle on, he spoke quietly before pulling away from the curb. "That was a nice evening, if I say so myself."

I nodded. "It was," I said, feeling as though more words were really an impossibility.

We drove for half a block in silence. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his Adam's apple bob up and down several times before his voice, tentative, said, "You look beautiful, Bella. You are beautiful."

A slight blush crept up my cheeks while my heart whirred in excitement. "Thank you, Mr. Masen," I replied.

"You carry yourself with grace, the way my mother did—without effort, without having to. It's refreshing and … quite lovely," he continued, and my blush multiplied. I was intensely glad for the dark atmosphere in the car.

I clasped my hands together in my lap and looked over at him. While we were outside, his fedora had accumulated a handful of snowflakes that had not yet melted, and without thinking, I extended my left hand to brush them away. As I did so, I accidentally grazed his ear and felt that familiar electricity coursing through me at the mere touch of my skin to his. I saw the right side of his mouth quirk upward and in my mind's eye, his perfect, dazzling crooked smile appeared.

"Thank you," I said. "I have my mother to thank for my sensibilities."

"I only speak the truth, Bella."

I placed my hand carefully on the seat between us and gathered my nerves to speak. After a beat, I asked, "Will you tell me about her?"

He was silent as he shot a sideways glance my way. Then he spoke. "My mother?"

I nodded.

For a moment, I thought I'd overstepped a line, but then his voice came tumbling out, like a river cresting over a waterfall.

"She was wonderful. She was always put together, always sweet. She was one of the most caring people I've ever known. She and my father were amazing parents and they helped me believe I could do anything I wanted to. They died, shortly after Garrett, so I came here. I actually live with my mother's father, Alistair. She would have wanted someone to watch over him, so as much as he frustrates me, I remember her and her memory helps me stay here, for him." He paused for a brief second and then said, "And now, I have … other reasons to stay."

I hadn't missed the reference to a Garrett, but the name on Edward's tongue came across heavy with emotion. I thought it better to stick to one topic. He could tell me about Garrett later, if he wanted. "Yes, I've noticed that you and Alice are quite close," I mumbled in response. He said nothing so I asked another question. "What was her name? Your mother, I mean."

"Elizabeth. My father was Edward as well," he answered. His lips parted again, but then drew to a close. It appeared that he wanted to say something more, but he stopped himself.

"Pretty name," I mumbled, looking out the windshield, trying to come up with something else to say.

After a few moments, Edward began humming lightly, a piece of music by Bach that I knew by memory. "I love that song," I mused.

"As do I," he said. "I've played the piano for most of my life."

My own thoughts from the afternoon that Edward had come by on his own, a week or so ago, came back to me. I gulped for air.

… any man I ended up with would have to have at least a slight inclination toward music, because the idea of a man playing piano just about did me in.

Edward and I slipped back into silence for a few minutes more, during which he turned onto my street and parked the car. After putting on the brake, he glanced over at me and asked, "Would you like me to walk you up?"

My hesitation, my worry, my fears: In that instant, it all flew far, far away from me.

"Yes, please," I said, my voice confident. I couldn't pinpoint the reason for my newfound assuredness, but neither could ignore it.

Edward grinned and stepped out of the car. I met him on the sidewalk and he held his arm out to me. Instead of simply curving my hand around his elbow, minimalizing contact, I linked my arm in his. I noticed him bite his lip as he looked at the place our arms connected.

He lifted his free hand and caressed my arm through my jacket sleeve as we took our first steps toward my building. "Thank you for allowing me to walk you, Bella."

The words that came out of my mouth next were oddly bold, uncharacteristically brave. I didn't recognize them as mine.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Mr. Masen."

I smiled as I heard him clear this throat.

Once we arrived at my apartment, I unlocked the door and stepped inside. "Would you like to come in?" I asked. "It's cold. I could make hot tea."

A million emotions flashed in his eyes and he nodded once. "That would be … yes, I would," he finished.

I smiled up at him and pulled the door so that it was fully open. He walked inside, immediately removing his fedora and jacket. It made me happy that his coat and hat looked like they belonged there, hanging near my doorway.

"I'll be a minute," I said. "Please make yourself comfortable." I took my coat off and laid it over the back of the sofa and walked into the kitchen. Edward's breath hitched again and I allowed myself a moment of fantasy that the back of my dress had him reacting that way, but I shoved the thought away.

Hot tea. Focus.

I put the kettle on and once the water was hot enough, I steeped the tea, peeking only once at Edward, whose eyes were far away as he stared into the empty space between his seat and the ceiling of my apartment.

"Sugar?" I called out.

"None, thanks," he answered.

I cleared my throat and gathered the cups. I slipped my shoes off as I stepped back into the living room. "Here you are," I said.

He stood and took the cup from my hands. He smiled down at me, our height difference even more staggering because of my lack of shoes. "Thank you, Bella."

A few quiet moments passed and I said, "I really did have a lovely time this evening. It was a nice reprieve." We sat down, him on the chair and me on the sofa.

He nodded in agreement and then said, "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

"You know, I find the fact that you play piano intriguing, Mr. Masen," I said, changing the subject. Images of his hands gliding with ease across the keys put a small grin on my face.

He quirked an eyebrow at me and the smile I'd first seen that fateful afternoon over lunchtime leftovers—the one that I now knew was him flirting—reappeared. All of my doubts were gone; there was no longer a thought in my mind that Edward was not interested in me, though I did wonder at our timing. "And why is that, Miss Swan?"

I shrugged lightly. "I happen to love music. I should have known you played by your hands. You have long, graceful fingers."

He smirked. "You've noticed my hands?"

Even as I felt the blush appearing on my cheeks, my voice did not falter. "I did."

He sipped his tea and smiled at me. "Well, I suppose now is a good time for me to admit to noticing your eyes."

"I noticed your eyes, too," I said quietly, somehow managing to keep mine trained on his.

He continued. "I can get lost in them," he whispered, standing up and placing his half empty tea cup on the occasional table that sat in the center of my living room.

"I know the feeling," I replied. My hands were quivering slightly as raw emotion coursed through me. I leaned over to place my cup on the table as he moved to sit nearer to me.

"Bella …" His voice trailed off and his emerald green eyes bored into mine. I couldn't hear him breathing and the lack of sound reminded me that I wasn't either. We both inhaled at the same time and I swallowed, hard.

"Edward …" I said quietly, finally allowing myself to call him by his first name.

A look of absolute peace crossed his face. Suddenly, his arms were wrapped around me, pulling my body to him on the couch. "Bella," he whispered into my hair. I closed my eyes, breathing him in and wanting to memorize the feel of his arms around me like this, the burn of his skin where it touched my bare back. My ear was pressed against his chest and I could hear the frantic pacing of his heartbeat. It thrilled me to know that had our positions been reversed, he would have heard the same.

I locked my arms around his waist and sighed, a contented sound. "Stay for a while," I implored. "I know it's late, but …"

He cut me off in a gentle but fervent voice. "You know I'll stay, Bella. You know I will."

And I did.

There had been a shift between Edward and me. We were no longer tentative or afraid. I was past the worry that he was only interested in me for professional reasons, and when I said his name for the first time aloud in his presence, his response—wrapping me in his arms and holding me tight—had proven that he, like I, had been waiting for the most opportune moment.

I found myself grateful that we hadn't passed it up or ignored it.

We adjusted our position on the couch so that his back was against the sofa and I was leaning against his shoulder, my legs angled so that I could keep my ear on his chest. His arms were wrapped tightly around me and I found myself running my index fingers up and down the back of his hand, enjoying the sight of the goosebumps that appeared as I did so.

The floodgates opened. Edward told me about Garrett, his best friend, and the way that he had died. He spoke about his distaste for the police force, but his need to make a difference in the world. He talked at length about his parents, about Alistair, about Alice. In turn, I shared some of my favorite stories about Emmett and how we had grown up. I told him about how I aspired to be like my Mama—gentle but strong.

We talked late into the night. It was nearly one in the morning when his velvet voice said, "Bella, I've wanted to hold you this way for so long … probably since the night you walked into my office, if I'm honest," he said.

"Oh, Edward," I replied, snuggling closer into his chest. "I've wanted this too."

"Do you think we're wrong, doing this now?" he asked.

I picked my head up and looked him in the eye. "The timing is odd, and the reason we met is terrible, but I … I can't … "

As I faltered for words, he said, "I can't think that either." He took a ragged breath and said, "Bella, you've eclipsed everything else in my life. I … I need to … to …"

"To be with me?" I whispered.

He stared at me, his lips parted, and then said, "I realized it when I determined that I had become obsessed with finding your brother, and that that obsession was beyond my professional wants. I need to find him because you need me to find him, Bella. And I … I've thought of you so often …"

I felt the corners of my lips turn ever-so-slightly up and pulled out of his embrace.

I sat up and adjusted my body so that I was looking him straight in the eye, and tenderly placed my right hand on the line of his jaw. He closed his eyes and leaned into the slight pressure my hand provided. I heard him sigh. "Bella." He whispered my name with adoration; I wanted to hear it over and over again.

As I watched him reveling at my touch—such a simple thing—only one thought reverberated in my mind.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

But I couldn't tell him. Not yet, anyway.

"Will you feel this way—about me—once you bring my brother home?" I dared to ask.

His eyes popped open and something akin to indignation appeared in them. "Yes, Bella. Of course I will."

"I will, too," I said softly, my eyes falling to look at my right hand, which was lying open on my thigh.

Edward's hand, warm and large and smooth, picked mine up. His touch was so gentle, so careful, so measured. He lifted my hand and placed it palm down on his wonderfully defined chest.

We sat that way—him holding my hand over his heart—for a while before I finally noticed the time again. "Oh, Edward," I mumbled. "It's so late." My voice was sad. I realized that, inappropriate as it would have been, I didn't want him to go.

I knew what he was implying with the placement of my hand. I wondered if I could say anything, if I could tell him of my revelation, but he spoke before I could ponder too heavily.

"It is," he agreed and intertwined our fingers as he pulled my hand away from his chest.

"I suppose I should let you go," I mumbled. As I spoke, I was surprised to realize that I was really adverse to the idea of his leaving. How different things were for us after a single evening out!

He sighed and sat up straight. His lips pouted and he furrowed his brow lightly. "Yes, I suppose I should go," he agreed.

Our movements were sluggish as we stood together. He kept our hands clasped tight. I walked with him to my doorway and only released his hand when he needed to pull his coat and hat from their rightful place near my doorway. I stood in silence and watched him shrug into his coat. Once he placed his hat on his head, he looked down at me. A soft, content smile appeared on his lips. "Bella?"

I took a step nearer to him and looked up at him. "Yes, Edward?"

He exhaled and smiled at the sound of his name. Then, he wrapped his strong arms around me and I was once again wrapped up in him—he surrounded me in all the best ways.

Snaking my hands loosely around his waist, I looked up at him, surprised to find intensity reflecting back at me in his eyes. "What is it?" I asked, cocking my head to the right.

He said nothing.

We stared at each other for a moment and then slowly, deliberately, he leaned down and placed his lips on my forehead.

The touch was brief—almost nothing—but it was also everything.

I closed my eyes at the sensation and hummed lightly, enjoying the feel of his lips on my skin. When he pulled away, my immediate reaction was to move my hands from his waist to behind his neck. I played with the hair there, jutting out at various angles from under his fedora. My eyes were wide as I said, "Good night, Edward."

"Good night, my Bella," he whispered. "Be safe."

And then he backed away from me, not wanting to pull his eyes away from mine, opened the door and walked briskly down the hallway.

I'd locked the door and floated through my apartment to my bedroom.

I loved him.

I loved him.

It was at the forefront of my mind.

And he'd kissed me. My heart fluttered at the mere memory.

I finished getting ready and made it in to work just barely on time. Being stuck behind a desk was painful.

I made more errors in one business day that I'd made in the last three months, wasted more paper thanks to egregious typos and fumbled over the standard way to answer the phone all day. Mr. Marks shot me a look from his office at one point and just smiled in response.

Jessica appeared in front of my desk. "What's eating you, Bella? You're off today," she said.

"Nothing's the matter, Jess," I said. "My mind is … elsewhere. That's all." It was the truth.

She shrugged. "Well, they got this for you in the mail room this morning," she said, handing me an envelope.

"Thank you," I replied, sending a small smile in her direction as she shuffled over to her desk.

The afternoon ticked by; it was about as enthralling as watching paint dry, but finally, mercifully it did end. My mind remained permanently distracted, constantly thinking of a bronze haired man who had held me all night just because he could, whom I loved so deeply it was very nearly frightening. I clocked out and smiled, glad that tomorrow would be my last day of work for the remainder of the year. Kinsey & Campbell, despite being a focused agency and successful on the whole, was not blind to the fact that their employees could use a break and time with their families at the end of the year. Tomorrow, Friday the 17th, was my final one of work until it was officially 1927.

The envelope Jessica had handed me was tucked neatly away in my purse; I'd get to it later.

I arrived home and whipped up a simple meal and finally sat down to attempt to relax when the phone rang. "Hello?"

"Bella."

I smiled. "Edward. Hello."

"Because I didn't get to say so last night, I want you to know that I love hearing you refer to me by my first name, Bella. Really and truly."

I could picture his smile and the way his chaotic bronze hair looked. "I think I gathered that, you know," I replied, my fingers playing with the phone's wire.

"I was just calling … to … ah … well, to see how your day was."

I smiled and we spoke for a few more minutes—we'd both been distracted all day and it was evident in our retelling of events. We hung up and I began humming a tuneless melody, just letting my voice move at its own designs. My smile grew even larger as I pictured Edward's hands moving lithely over the keys of his piano.

I would have to tell him that I loved him soon. He deserved to know.

I walked from the kitchen, where my phone hung on the wall, and settled into the right side of the sofa, folding my legs under me. After I was comfortable, I grabbed my purse from its position on the floor nearby. I pulled the envelope Jessica had given me from its place in the confines of my bag and examined it.

I hadn't been expecting mail at work, as I never got any, and the envelope was blank—it only listed the firm's address and my name. The handwriting on the outer shell was not familiar, and I wondered what on earth could be inside.

I shrugged and opened the envelope by inserting my finger along the upper seam. A single sheet of paper, folded in thirds, fell out onto my lap and I picked it up, unfolding it as I did so.

What I saw made my breath catch. My heart raced as the hole—the one that I'd been ignoring or at least been able to push back for the last few days—grew back in full force, gaping and painful.

Emmett.

AN: *hides from our beloved readers because of the cliffhanger ending*

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