A/N: My beta and I totally dropped the ball on this chapter... I put off sending it to her because of the holidays, and then she forgot to send it back once she edited it. Oops! I won't blather on. Enjoy!


Chapter 20: Sunday Day 24 & Monday Day 25-BPOV

"I don't want to."

"You need to."

"He can just read it in the paper."

"Okay, then you should do it."

"Hmph."

I throw myself down onto my couch, glaring at Edward. We came home an hour ago, and after eating some Chinese food by candlelight to celebrate our engagement, he decided to bring up the topic of telling my dad about it.

"You really don't want to tell your dad about it, love?" Edward asks for the fucking hundredth time. He sits down next to me, running his fingers through his hair. "I mean, blimey, are things really that bad between you two?"

"You have no fucking clue, Brit," I sigh, rubbing my eyes with my fingertips.

Edward's silent for a moment, and then he speaks quietly, so quietly that I almost don't hear him.

"Maybe I could talk to him."

"What?" I ask, my head snapping up. He looks more nervous than I've ever seen him.

"I c-could, you know, um, ask your dad for your h-h-hand in marriage?" he says, making it sound like a question. His eyes are locked on his twisting fingers.

"You'd do that?" I ask softly, sitting up and placing my hand on his to still them.

"I'd do anything for you," he says seriously, lifting his head to look at me; then he chuckles. "Bloody hell, I flew halfway across the country just to be with you!"

We both laugh, but sober up quickly.

"Okay, I'll call my dad tomorrow and see when he can meet up," I say, taking a deep breath. "But we may have to get you a vest."

"A vest?" he asks uncertainly, his brows furrowing.

"A bullet proof vest," I say with a wry smile. "My dad's a cop, remember?"

Edward's eyes grow wide, and I almost feel bad about saying it, but he needs to be warned.


I wake up in the morning alone, and Edward's side of the bed is cold. I sit up and frown, shoving my tangled hair out of my face. I can hear clattering in the kitchen, so I attempt to get out of bed, but my feet get caught in the blankets.

"Fuck!" I mumble, as I fall to the ground. I growl and tug at the sheet, trying to get it off my ankles. Apparently, this falling out of bed is becoming a routine.

After some struggling and more swearing, I manage to stand up. I grab Edward's hoodie off the top of his open suitcase, and stumble out of the bedroom.

Edward's in the kitchen, opening and closing different cupboards and muttering under his breath. The counters are covered in food, and a few pans are on the stove. I shake my head and put the hoodie over the over-sized shirt I wore to bed—again, Edward's clothing—and perch myself on the dining room table and watch.

"Whacha looking for, sunshine?" I ask after watching, unnoticed, for a few minutes.

Edward spins around, his expression going from angry to one of slight relief in a manner of seconds. His shoulders slump a little and he pushes his fingers through his wild hair.

"I wanted to cook you breakfast, but you don't have any fucking food in the house," he grumbles. I raise a brow at him; he squints his eyes shut and clutches his hair. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just stressed out and completely knackered."

"Knackered?" I ask, trying to say it as he did, with the accent, but I fail miserably. It at least gets a small smile out of the cranky Brit.

"I couldn't sleep last night," he clarifies, sighing and dropping his hands to his sides. "I can't stop thinking about what I'll say to your dad."

"Um, how about, 'Tough shit, I'm marrying your daughter'?" I suggest; he chuckles once.

"Knowing my luck, it'll come out as complete gibberish and he'll think I'm bonkers," he says, leaning back against the counter and tipping his head back to stare up at the ceiling.

"You'll be fine, Brit," I say, sliding off the table and coming over to him. "Just be yourself."

"Myself doesn't always work out for me," he mumbles, looking down at me.

"Worked for me," I shrug, reaching up and wrapping my arms around his neck.

He looks down at me, a crooked smile forming and his eyes clearing of all but a hint of worry which was filling those emerald green orbs.

"Are you wearing my clothes?" he asks, his finger trailing along the zipper of the hoodie.

"Perhaps," I say, tilting my head to the side. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Well, I'd like to take it off," he says lowly. "After all, it does belong to me."

His head dips down and his lips grace mine softly, but I have to pull back.

"No time," I tell him regretfully. "Work is in an hour, and you still have an amazing breakfast to cook me."

"But there's no food!" he complains again as I let my arms drop and turn to walk away.

"Be creative," I say over my shoulder; I can't help but drop the hoodie to the floor and begin to pull the shirt off, as I head to the shower. Just as I'm getting to the bathroom, the shirt falls, giving him a slight peek of my bare lower back.

I hear a different kind of growl as I close the door behind me.


"Thank you, your drink will be ready in a few minutes."

I smile at my customer until he walks away, and then slump down onto my stool. I wipe the light sheen of sweat off my forehead, turning when Edward speaks up.

"I'm so terribly sorry, Bella," he says, his hands moving restlessly in his lap. He's sitting on a stool in the back corner behind the register, looking as guilty as a five year old in time-out.

Which he basically is, minus the five year old part.

"It's okay, Edward," I sigh. "It's not like you were trying to make crap drinks. Or were you?"

"What? N-no, I swear!" he says quickly, his fingers going into his hair. "Blimey. It's just so much harder than I thought it would be. I feel like a bloody idiot."

Edward had spent the good part of an hour trying his damnedest to help with the cafe's morning rush, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make a single drink to save his life.

It wasn't like when Mike was here, though, and had been properly trained. Edward just didn't know what the hell he was doing, but it was sweet of him to try. I had finally lost my cool and demanded he sit in the corner with a point of my finger and a death glare.

"I'm kidding, Brit," I say with a tired laugh. "I know you were trying to help."

"You're not cross?" he asks uncertainly, his eyes wide.

"Never," I assure him, standing up and moving until I'm in front of him. I put my hands lightly on his shoulders.

"Really?"

"How could I ever be mad at the person that makes me the happiest out of all the people I know?" I smile, making Edward's face split into a full on grin.

"And, um," he says slowly, his smile fading slightly as he looks down. "you could never be mad at me, no matter what? Right? As long as I was trying to do the right thing?"

"What are you getting at?" I ask, narrowing my eyes. I feel his fingers flutter nervously where they're resting on my hips.

"Well, I-I'm, I mean, I didn't mean, I mean I meant to, but only because, well-"

"Spit it out!" I interrupt him.

I suddenly have a bad feeling about what he is about to say.

"I called your dad," he mumbles.

"You what?!" I yell, stepping back. I throw my arms into the air. "What in God's name-"

"Bella," I hear Angela say quietly behind me. "Inside voice, boss."

I glance around and see that half the room has their eyes on me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, forcing my voice to remain as calm as possible.

"Why?" I ask shortly, my tone low.

"We need to tell him," Edward says urgently, lifting his eyes to meet mine. "And I know you said you'd call him, but you hadn't yet, so I thought maybe, I dunno..."

He trails off, shrugging.

"Can't we just, I dunno," I huff, throwing my arms up again and letting them slap down to my sides. "Can't we just run away and elope? Go to Vegas and get married by Elvis?"

"Don't you want your father to at least be there?" he asks, completely ignoring my Elvis joke, his brow scrunching up.

"It'd be a hell of a lot easier without him there," I say honestly, imagining all the ways my dad could ruin the whole wedding with his criticism.

"But isn't he supposed to give you away?"

I shrug, crossing my arms tightly and continuing to glare.

"Look, I'll talk to him myself," he says.

"Damn right you will," I growl at him.

"He'll be here in ten minutes," he says, looking even guiltier than before.

"Make that five, he's always early," I tell him; Edward's face goes white.

"Shit."

I sigh and let my arms fall away from my body. Edward looks so panicked that I'm worried he's going to puke. I can't stay mad at him, especially now.

"Avoid politics and sports, he hates discussing both," I say swiftly; Edward sits up attentively. "Keep your answers short and to the point, and don't leave any room to argue. And don't curse."

"Maybe I should write this down."

"You'll be fine."

"And no cursing?"

"Nope."

"Blimey, that will be hard," he murmurs.

"Believe me, it is," I say, cracking a smile.

"Could you help me with one more thing?" he asks. When I raise a brow, he continues, "Could you make me one of your magical espressos?"

"Wait, wait," I say, sure I heard him wrong. "Did you say espresso?"

He nods once, looking unsure of himself.

"You mean the one that will turn even a coffee addict like me into Speedy Gonzales?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Who knows what it'll do to someone who drinks coffee flavored milk."

"You don't have any booze here," he says with a shrug.

"Point taken," I agree, rushing over to the espresso machine.

I quickly brew two shot-glass sized coffees, handing one to Edward. He takes a deep breath and then downs it, wincing at the strong taste. When his eyes widen suddenly over my shoulder, I turn to see my dad walking in, dressed in his best suit; his favorite surly expression on his face.

"Oh, bugger, I look like shit," Edward says, looking down at the dark washed jeans and deep blue t-shirt he's wearing.

"He'll be too busy watching you tug at your hair to notice," I joke as his fingers reach for his reddish locks.

"Gee, thanks," he says with a frown.

"You'll be fine," I tell him, turning him around and giving him a small push.

"I've got to be fucking barmy," he says under his breath before turning halfway around and snatching the drink out of my hand. I don't even get a chance to protest before he gulps that one down, too, this time with a shudder.

"Barmy?" I say to myself, figuring he must mean he's out of his fucking mind.

Yeah, he's definitely out of his mind.

I pretend to be busy making a cappuccino, while out of the corner of my eye I watch as Edward warily approaches my dad. He wipes what must be sweaty palms on his jeans, and then takes one more step so that he's standing directly behind my dad, who's inspecting a paper menu.

"Excuse m-me, Mr. Sw-swan?" Edward stutters. I bite my lip nervously.

"Yes?" Charlie answers gruffly, turning to Edward, who stands up a bit straighter.

"My name is Edward," he says confidently, holding out his hand. When Charlie refuses to shake it, Edward shoves it into his pocket. "I'm glad you came. How's your day so far?"

"Terrible," Charlie snaps, tossing the menu back onto the pile on the counter. "I'm a very busy man, I can't simply take time off to meet some guy from-"

"Great Britain, sir," Edward says, and I can see the back of his neck turn red. "Originally, that is. I moved to Chicago a few years ago."

"To do what?" Charlie asks, crossing his arms across his chest.

"I began my own business with my good mate, Emmett," Edward says, glancing down briefly, before raising his head again. "We own Double E Bar."

"That's a good bar. I went there once when I went to Chicago for a conference," Charlie sniffs, shifting from one foot to the other. I smile at his obvious discomfort. "And I understand that you came here for Isabella?"

"Yes, sir," Edward says, his eyes flicking briefly to where I stand.

"Where do you plan to live?" Charlie asks.

"Wherever Bella would like. My partner has agreed to run the bar single-handedly until his new, ah, associate can move to the area."

"Hmph."

"Sir," Edward starts, holding his hands out pleadingly. "I love Bella with all my heart. It was a complete accident that we met, but I'm willing to change my life to be with her. She's bloody crazy, drinks far too much coffee and her cat is mad—er, crazy—but I need her, and I'll do anything to make her happy. She's the most determined, hard-working person I have ever met and I would like your permission to marry her."

I hold my breath as Charlie surveys Edward, his lips puckered slightly. Edward seems to be holding his breath as well.

"Are you into drugs?" Charlie finally asks.

"No, sir."

"Do you drink?"

"On occasion."

"How many girlfriends have you had in the past?"

"Just one, but I plan to make Bella my wife."

"Until death do you part?"

"Hopefully beyond that."

"It's a big commitment."

"I'm ready for it."

Charlie's quiet again until finally he reaches out. Edward takes his hand firmly.

"Well, I'm glad Bella is doing something with her life," Charlie says gruffly, letting go of Edward's hand quickly before stomping out of the cafe and into the cool morning air.

I let out a little squeak and rush around the counter, throwing my arms around Edward's neck. He chuckles and wraps his arms tightly around my waist.

"That was easier than I thought," he mumbles in my ear, his voice still a little shaky. "But was that a yes he gave me?"

"It's as good as we're going to get," I laugh into his ear, but gasp when my dad suddenly comes back in. I drop my arms and turn to face him, feeling like I'm standing protectively in front of Edward.

Shit, should we have actually gotten that bullet proof vest?

"It's proper for the father of the bride to pay for the wedding," Charlie says in a clipped tone.

"Okay," I say uncertainly. Charlie raises a brow. "Oh, um, sure, that'd be great."

"Call me when you have a plan?" he asks and after I nod once, he grunts and leaves again.

Afraid I might just burst into tears if I say anything, I give a watery smile, beyond touched that my dad is finally happy with something I'm doing with my life.

I feel Edward's hand on the back of mine, and with a sniffle, I grab it gratefully.

"Well, we better get back to work," Edward says once I've got my emotions under control. When I look at him with raised brows, he amends, "I mean, uh, I guess that you need to get back to work. I'll go back to my stool."

He hangs his head and I roll my eyes, swatting his shoulder.

"You big baby," I say, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the machines. "C'mon, I'll teach you how to make a few things."


In the evening, we lounge on the couch, an open box of pizza on the coffee table.

"Florida?" Edward says.

"I've been there. Too humid. Chicago?" I say, picking a piece of sausage off my slice of pizza.

"For a winter wedding? It'll be freezing! Hawaii?" he says, raising an eyebrow at me when I put the little piece of meat on the slice of pizza he's holding.

"That'd be cool. Pretty pricey, though," I say, and when he continues to look at me curiously, I tell him I don't like sausage on my pizza.

We've been discussing where to go for our honeymoon for nearly half an hour, and with limited funds and not much time to plan, we're having trouble making a decision.

"Could we go to your hometown in England?" I suggest, excited about the possibility of going to a foreign country.

"It rains most of the year there," Edward says with a grimace.

"Oh," I pout.

"We'll think of something, don't worry," he says draping his arm across my shoulders. "What about the actual wedding? Where should that be?"

"Um, how about the courthouse?"

"What?" he says, leaning back to look at me. "I thought you were kidding about that."

"Only half kidding," I shrug. "It'd be easy and quick, nothing fussy or expensive."

"True," he nods, looking contemplative. "We could invite a few people."

"Yeah?" I say happily.

"Sure, why not," he says, smiling crookedly at me. "Whatever makes you happy."

"I love you, you know," I say, stretching up to kiss him.

I mean to only give a quick peck on the lips, but he has other ideas.

Fingers thread into my hair and pull me close, while another presses into my lower back. All the air in my body leaves in one big whoosh as his tongue runs along my lower lip, and I can't help but throw my whole body into the kiss, my body so close to his that there's nothing but our clothes between us, and that's not close enough.

Without tearing my lips away from his, I claw at my shirt, glad I wore a flannel button-up today, meaning I don't have to stop kissing him to get it off. Once the shirt's gone, I pull at his, groaning when I realize we'll have to separate in order to get it over his head.

He pulls it off so quick that I barely have a moment to catch my breath, before his mouth crashes onto mine, licking and sucking so forcefully that I never thought he had something like this in him.

Edward's groaning and grunting noises spur me on further, and I soon find myself straddling his lap. Without thinking, I grind myself down onto him, trying to find some kind of relief for the burning feeling down below. He gently bites my lip, moaning as I circle my hips, pushing myself farther and farther down.

"Bedroom," he whispers against my lips, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist and lifting us both off the couch.

The bedroom's dark; I feel him everywhere as my back hits the soft mattress. There's no hesitation, no second thoughts as our pants hit the floor, followed by my panties and his boxers. There's a ripping sound and before I know it, I feel his bulge at my entrance, wrapped in latex.

"Is this okay?" he suddenly asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," I say breathlessly, gasping as he pushes into me, stretching me, filling me.

It's tight at first, and I can't help the sounds of discomfort escaping my lips; it's been a while. It's not long before it feels just right, though, and we fall into an easy rhythm. Edward pushes in and out and I lift my hips to meet his with each thrust.

We're making love, not fucking, not screwing, just proving our feelings to each other in simple touches, kisses, whispers and slow, slow movements. I never want it to end, but my body has other ideas as it winds up and releases in the most amazing orgasm I've ever had. It isn't fast and hard, it's smooth and soft, peaking just as Edward groans and thrusts a little harder a few more times.

We come down together, and he lies next to me, cradling me against his chest as we both fall asleep. I don't know about him, but I'm the happiest I've ever been in my entire life, right at this moment.

"I love you, too," he says just as I'm drifting off.


A/N: Welp, look at that, Charlie didn't kill Edward! What a nice guy... Anywho, I hope you liked this chapter. I get nervous every time I post (though that could be my anxiety kicking in LOL) and especially worry about the lemony parts. I liked it... but then again, I wrote it. Okay, I'm going to shut myself up with some pie. Yes, I requested a banana cream pie as opposed to a cake for my birthday this past weekend... and it's delicious! But not as good as the Baker's Square pie that my beta was teasing me with! Not cool, man!