Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: My writing prompt was "broken pottery."
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Morning had always been my favorite time. Of course, afternoons were good for sunning and swimming, and nights had restaurants and movies and dancing, but mornings didn't need those things. Mornings were special just because.
I breathed a satisfied sigh as I prepared to make breakfast. Home usually felt lonely when Phil was out of town, so it felt nice to have Bella and Edward in the house this weekend. And it was even nicer to see Bella look alive again. I pulled the nice dishes from the cupboard, remembering the dead look in her eyes last fall, the dead tone of her voice through the winter. Poor baby, I thought. I didn't realize how serious her feelings for him were until he left and Bella just… stopped.
I rinsed some grapes and put them in a pretty bowl on the table, then set to work making Bella's favorite breakfast—French toast. Now that I'd seen Bella with Edward, I realized I'd probably never see her without him. Neither of them have said anything, but it just feels like things are… final between them.
I wondered, as I slid the pan into the oven, if that was okay with me. My Bella, only 18, living so far away, thinking about forever with this boy… But she was my Bella, always steady and sure. She'd be fine, of course. And Edward was obviously just as decided as she was. It seems like she doesn't take a single breath that he doesn't notice. Like he can hear her heart beat…
"Good morning, Mrs. Dwyer." Edward's voice shook me from my reverie, and I knocked my coffee cup into the sink, chipping it.
"Good morning," I said as I turned around. Edward's hair was still wet from the shower, and I could see that his laptop was on in the living room, his term paper open for editing. An early riser. And so studious. I hope he can get away from his homework at some point this weekend. I don't want them to be bored here…
He smiled back at me and motioned toward a chair. "May I?"
"Of course, Edward. And please, call me Renee."
"Thank you, Renee." He sat down and started glancing over the newspaper.
So serious, I thought. I placed several strips of bacon in a skillet. "You're up early this morning. I thought you two were up late last night." I had fallen asleep still hearing their low voices—Edward's voice was deep and soothing. And then there was that dream where I thought I heard him singing…
"Bella and I were up late talking, but I didn't want to waste the morning in bed. Mornings have always seemed special for some reason."
Well that is something I'd never expected to hear from a teenage boy! Edward seemed so mature. I wondered what kind of life he'd had to give him such a perspective. "Where are you from, Edward?" Bella had told me he was adopted many years ago by the Cullens—I hoped I wasn't prying.
He smiled again, as if reassuring me. "My family has lived in several places, but I was born in Chicago. My birth parents lived there. It seems like a very long time ago now." His eyes suddenly looked ancient and sad, like he was a hundred years old instead of seventeen. Poor boy, I thought. And his eyes are so pretty. Such an unusual color…
"And Bella said you lived in Alaska before you moved to Forks. What was that like?" I have always wanted to go there. The oven timer dinged and I began arranging the toast and bacon onto three plates while Edward talked about hiking and climbing in the Alaska wilderness. He is so outdoorsy! I hope he keeps an eye on Bella. The forests around Forks could be so dangerous for her…
The water in the upstairs bathroom stopped, so I knew Bella would be down to eat soon. I sat the juice and glasses on the table, then I set a plate in front of Edward, one at Bella's place, and sat down with mine.
"Thank you," Edward said, but he didn't make a move to eat.
"Syrup?" I offered, holding out the bottle.
"You first. Please." Such a gentleman. I drizzled syrup over my toast and placed the bottle next to his plate.
He uncapped the bottle, but he seemed to be watching me cut up my toast. Almost like he doesn't know what to do. Oh, no! Maybe he doesn't like French toast… But then he poured the syrup and began to eat.
Bella came in, tripping over the door frame as she came. Or maybe over nothing, knowing Bella. Poor sweetie. As she straightened up, she looked over at Edward as he brought his fork to his mouth. She tensed a little bit and quirked an eyebrow at him. Like she's asking him a question. As if in answer, he grinned crookedly—he really was quite handsome—and winked at her.
Whatever the matter was, Bella seemed satisfied. She smiled. "Good morning. Did everybody sleep as well as I did?"