Lesson #9: If you don't choke the chicken, the chicken will choke you.

We all sat at the table, quietly munching on the food that I had prepared. I wasn't much of a cook, but Emmett had assured me that he and the guys ate just about anything. I had decided that I needed to get more acquainted with the kitchen if I was going to be feeding a little mouth more than Chinese takeout.

"This is…um…great, Bella, really," Edward said.

"You've told her that fourteen times already," Riley grunted as he placed a piece of chicken in his mouth and chewed gingerly. I might have left it in the oven a tad too long. But if you closed your eyes and chewed, you could pretend it had been grilled.

At least, that's what I told myself.

"He's only sucking up to her because he sat on her face," Garrett laughed.

Edward immediately choked on his chicken. His face turned a bright shade of red. However, I wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment or lack of oxygen.

"Edward!" My eyes widened in horror, "How could you?!"

"If there's one thing you should know about Edward," Emmett said, "It's that he can't lie –ever."

"It all shows on his face," Riley added.

"And if you press hard enough," Garrett joined in, "He'll crack."

"Oh, really," I raised a brow at this new information.

"Hey Edward," Emmett grinned wickedly, "What do you think about Bella's cooking?"

A sharp kick caused me to release a yelp, "Who the fuckjust kicked me?"

"Fuck, Bella, I am sosorry," Edward rushed, "I was aiming for Emmett, I swear."

"Why would you need to kick-," I started, before realization dawned, "What do you think about my cooking?"

"It's, uh, really great," he said, "Like I said before."

"Why do you keep hesitating, Eddie?" Emmett smiled.

"I'm not hesitating," Edward pointed his words at the ceiling, refusing to make eye contact with me.

"You hate it!" I accused.

"N-no, I don't," he moved away from me slowly, pushing back his chair from the table.

"What do you think about it? What do you really think?" I pressed.

"It's fine," he said again, "Really."

"So it went from 'great' to 'fine," I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Just tell her," Riley rolled his eyes.

"Fine!" Edward finally burst, "Bella, I'm sorry, but your food tastes like shit. I didn't want to not eat it because, well, I sat on your face, but I can't do it. I can't eat it. It's just fucking bad."

Note: Now, I might have started crying, but it wasn't from Edward's words. It was from the realization that my kid was going to have to live off of General Tso's.

Like it? Love it? Have no idea what the hell I'm saying most of the time? It's okay, I don't either.