Author's Note: Well I've come to the end of another one; this was quite the labor of love so thanks as always to those of you that read this whole thing. I have two new story ideas in the works right now, one has a partially finished first chapter and I hope you'll find it funny and the other is really sad and I'm not ready to start it yet. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one; it was fun and a bit exhausting to write.
Nice reviews are better than chocolate, unless maybe you're licking that chocolate off someone.
Six Months Later
Edward and I are moving in together today. Well, technically we were living together already, but now we're moving into a new place. We'd both gotten to a position where we could afford something nicer than my tiny apartment. So it was moving day although admittedly, we weren't being very quick about it. Our food was in the fridge and the big things were set up, the sofa, a couple of chairs, the bookshelf, and the bed. Edward set up the bed first.
The books were all still in boxes save for two, Edward's and mine, which he'd set up on the top row all by themselves. Boxes were piled all over the place; I hadn't realized before how much a person could accumulate. We weren't entirely sure where to put them all, let alone unpack them. You see, the ones Edward packed on his own were marked very clearly – "kitchen", "bedroom", and so on. Mine on the other hand, were a little less organized – "misc. crap", "living room/bathroom" and the like. I still don't totally understand how he could fill a box with only kitchen supplies and make everything fit perfectly, but I was grateful for his organization.
I was going through a box marked "kitchen/bedroom" and Edward was carrying the coffee table into the living room, the last piece of furniture from my old apartment. "Ok, we're done." He announced, a satisfied smile on his face. I sat on top of the box that I'd just given up on and looked around.
"Does that mean everything can stay in the boxes? You know, if we turn the book boxes on their sides and open them up we don't even need to take the books out, homemade bookshelf," I nodded, feeling very pleased with myself. He chuckled and walked over to kneel in front of me, wrapping his arms around my waist.
"That's an interesting idea." He moved his mouth to my neck, pressing a light kiss there, "I have a better one though." He stood us both up in one swift motion, lifting me so I could wrap my legs around his waist. He carried me to the bedroom and my Edward-green comforter.
We undressed each other slowly, Edward taking the time to graze his mouth over everything he uncovered. He made love like it was our first time together, with no rush, but with a depth of passion that always took my breath away. To hear his low moans and soft sighs was almost enough to take me over the edge.
Afterward, we lay tangled up under the covers and Edward's stomach growled noisily under my hand. I laughed quietly and looked up at him, "hungry?"
"Yeah, I tend to work up an appetite when I'm with you. I don't know why that is," he grinned lazily down at me. We stayed that way for a few more minutes, neither of us willing to leave the blissed out bubble we'd created. When Edward's stomach growled a second time, we pulled ourselves out of bed. I slipped on my favorite sweatshirt and watched Edward pull his jeans, sans underwear, up onto his hips. We walked out into the kitchen and he sat me up on the counter.
"Were you going to try and make something?" I asked while he rifled through one of the kitchen boxes. He let out a triumphant "Ha" when he found what he was looking for; he held up the frying pan and then handed it to me while he bent down to look for something else.
"Yes, the only thing I really can make." He prided himself on his omelet making skills. When he stood up with the spatula his pants were hanging a little lower on his hips. He reached into the fridge to pull out some eggs and whatever else he decided to put in them.
"Need any help?"
"No, just your company," he smiled quickly at me before getting to work with quite a bit of concentration considering it was just cooking. I enjoyed watching him when he was focused though, like most things he did; it was a turn on. In the middle of cracking an egg, he started singing Trenet's La Mer; I couldn't tell if he realized it or not. I sat watching him, completely absorbed in his French.
Edward had a knack for flipping the omelet in the air which I secretly think is why he liked making them so much. I grabbed plates and forks out of one of the Edward packed boxes and set them on the table. He flipped the omelets from the pan to the plates with a boyish grin.
"You're very talented," I mused. He kissed my forehead and tossed the pan and spatula into the sink before sitting down. We ate quietly, Edward pausing once to ask about the next book I was working on; I wouldn't share it with him until I was finished. I had been signed on for three more books and was slowly beginning the second of what was becoming a series.
The newspaper lay open at the other end of the table; Edward's book review on prominent display. They were comparing his writing to Jack Kerouac's. He never really said so, but I knew that made him proud.
After dinner I stood at the sink washing dishes. Edward dried them, reminding me that we had a working dishwasher. I told him how I'd gotten used to it living with my father, who didn't have one.
He put down the plate he was drying and stood behind me, arms around my middle, his head resting on my shoulder. He kissed my jaw once and moved his mouth to my ear. "Marry me, Bella," he murmured.
For a split second, everything froze. My parent's marriage flashed before my eyes – young and stupid. A painful divorce, something I'd promised myself would never happen to me.
And then new possibilities went through my head - a life together, a home, a child? – one with his eyes and cheekbones, my hair color. Could that be my life?
An entire life with Edward suddenly seemed like not enough time.
"Yes," I said it quietly, trying not to hyperventilate at the chance I was taking. He was very still for a moment, his mouth still by my ear. I felt him exhale a soft sigh and then he turned me to face him. I couldn't think of anything to say so I met his eyes, trying to convey what I couldn't verbalize with my expression. Edward seemed to see what he was looking for and a slow grin formed on his face. He put his hands on either side of my face and kissed me deeply.
"I love you," he said against my mouth, then pulled away enough to look at my face.
I realized then that this was how it would always be, and how it always had been.