Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Just A Kiss Chapter 22 Epilogue


13 Years Later…

“Don’t get me wrong…I love my husband, but I swear to God, what I really need is a wife,” I grumble while trying to wrestle the stroller out of the back of the van.

“What in the hell are you talking about? Here, give me those,” Rosalie says, taking the fold up chairs off of my shoulder while I continue trying to get all of our gear out and organized.

“What I mean is that I need someone who will do at least half of this shit for me.”

“Mama, you said an ugly word,” my very observant three year old daughter points out.

“Yes, I know. Mama isn’t supposed to say ugly words. Rose, give her five bucks. I’m likely to say a few more before we ever make it out to the field,” I huff.

Why on God’s green earth I volunteered…wait…no…why I got volunteered to be the team mom is beyond me. How am I supposed to get a three year old, a six month old and a cooler full of drinks and snacks out to the field all at the same time?

“Look…just take some deep breaths and let me help you with this stuff.”

Rosalie threw the chairs, umbrella, snacks and my diaper bag into her cute little wagon, got Paige out of the van and started off towards the Rec Center baseball complex…all while still looking gorgeous.

I should have stopped being her friend years ago.

“Bella…quit pouting and come on! You’re gonna be late for Noah’s first game!”

“You’re lucky, you know. Two kids, one pregnancy, and done. I think you had it easier.”

“Tell the spider web of stretch marks that’s in permanent residence all over my stomach that. It’s only easier now, sister. Not so much when they were babies. That was twice the bottles, twice the diapers, twice the tantrums. But then again, I guess as soon as you outgrew a phase you were starting all over again.” She stops at the end of the row of cars so we can catch up to them and all make it into the park safely. “Hmm…never thought of it like that. You’re right. You shoulda had twins.”

Emmett and Rosalie got married six months after Edward and I did. After being married two years we decided that we were ready to have a baby. Emmett, never one to be left out of anything, helped Rosalie to decide that they were also ready to start a family. Lo and behold, four months after we announced that we were expecting Noah, they told us they were pregnant, too…with twins!

“Exactly. Now come on. The Mama Skanks will beat us there if we don’t high tail it and you know how they like to ogle. I’m not in the mood for ogling and I didn’t bring near enough cash to pay off my daughter so I can tell them off how I really want to.”

Paige runs ahead of us when she sees her daddy, Uncle Emmett, brother and cousins warming up in the outfield beside us.

Edward allows her to help with the bats during the game, which scares the living shit out of me, but I have to trust that he won’t let anything happen to my baby…either one of them.

This is Noah’s first baseball game where they won’t be using a tee to hit off of and I’m a nervous wreck. He already shows above average talent, even for a six year old, and I just know what that can lead to down the road.

I take a deep breath and try to put it out of my head as I get us set up.

All this crap for one hour of little league baseball. You’d think we were here to camp out for an all-day freakin’ tournament!

“There you are,” I hear him say as the chain link fence clinks against the pole when he grips it.

Edward.

His voice still gets me every time. Soft. Deep. Relaxed. Mine.

I turn around and even though I saw him not even an hour ago, my breath catches.

Pinstripes. Only the jersey, but still. It’s white, striped with black and hanging loose over his jeans, his black ball cap with white lettering pulled low with the curve-shaped brim shading his very green eyes.

Oh, I do still love baseball season.

“There you are,” I say, taking a squealing Jonah out of the stroller and meeting my husband at the fence.

Edward is all smitten and lopsided grins as he sticks his fingers through the fence to rub Jonah’s dark peach fuzz hair and little nose.

“Are the boys ready?”

“Yep. Seem to be. Noah, Grant and Garrett are anyway. They’ve already been practicing their slides.”

No. Not slides. I’m sure all the color drains from my face. I try to muffle the whimper, but as usual, nothing goes unnoticed by my husband.

“Pretty…we talked about this. It’s just part of it. Don’t worry. He’ll be fine. They’re still little. No six year old can turn that kind of double play just yet,” he soothes.

In April of Edward’s senior year, they were playing a long weekend series against their biggest rival in the conference. He was being scouted by several major league teams at the time, and probably would have been a second or third round draft, when he was injured.

It was the last inning of a Saturday double-header and our team was up by only one point. Edward was playing pretty deep in the infield when their best hitter, who had a wickedly quick swing and was notorious for consistently pulling the ball down the third base line, misjudged a curve ball but still managed to drill a line drive to second base.

Needing to pull off a double play in order to keep the lead and win the game, Colin James, the second baseman who had already missed his opportunity to tag the runner between first and second base, threw the ball over to Edward. But the ball was thrown wide and a little low so instead of coming across the back of the bag like he normally does in order to square himself up and make the throw to first base, he was coming almost at full speed across the top of the bag and the runner slid right into Edward…into his knee taking him down and tearing his ACL and MCL in the process.

It was the end of his college career, and while he still had several teams who were more than willing to take him on and rehab him to get him ready for training the following winter, he decided it just wasn’t what he wanted. As a shortstop his reflexes have to be lightning fast, forward and backward, side to side, ready to pounce at the drop of a dime and while he loved the sport, he just didn’t want force the rehab and then risk possible re-injury.

I was a little relieved, to be honest. I had always worried about what his playing in the Majors would do to our relationship, but at the same time I hated that it was a dream that he wouldn’t get to fulfill. He didn’t dwell on it too much, though. Mr. Planner, always with a plan B.

It took a couple of weeks for the swelling to go down before he could even have the surgery to reconstruct the ligaments. After that he began therapy with the trainers here at school before going on to graduate magna cum laude at the end of May…with a slight limp.

With many tears shed between the two of us, he moved back to his hometown where he continued his rehab at one of the best orthopedic centers in the state. It just so happened that that was also where Emmett was entering into physical therapy school. Edward was just glad to know that he’d be finished with his rehab long, long before Emmett got to use him as a guinea pig.

He started working in the late part of the summer for a large company as a web designer. Eventually, he even gave in and did some contract work for Cullen Pharmaceuticals, redesigning their entire website for a very hefty profit. Other companies saw it and liked his work so much that they sought him out as well, moving him up in his company rather quickly.

He still loves his job and I’m so very proud of him. His hard work and success affords me the chance to do everything I love…work part time, two nights a week, as a nurse in the pediatric E.R. and stay at home with the kids the rest of the time.

“I just hate it when he gets hurt, you know that. I see too much of it at work. But when it’s my baby that’s hurt, I’m a mom, not a nurse. I just can’t…”

“Hey, hey, c’mere,” he murmurs and bends at the knee, puckering his lips between a diamond in the chain link, brushing a warm wet kiss on my lips and then another two.

“Better?” he smirks.

“For now,” I tease.

“Hmmm…later then?” he suggests with a single raised eyebrow…that I kind of wanted to lick.

“How ‘bout sooner rather than later?”

Daddy! Come on! It’s time!” Noah yells from the dugout, waving at me as he takes his place on the bench inside.

“Always interrupted…just like the old days. Better go. Love you,” he says, sparing me one last kiss. “You, too, Little Man.”

He winks and tips the brim of his cap at me and then struts off to the dugout, him and Emmett hooting and hollering and getting the little boys good and riled up before the game.

……

The following Friday afternoon I’m curled up on the living room couch reading a book when I realize that it’s too quiet in the house.

Noah went home with Grant and Garrett after school to spend the night before tomorrow’s game.

Putting my book down, I take a quick walk through the house looking for trouble. Who knows where I’ll find her this time.

Jonah is asleep in his crib, catching one last cat nap before I take him and Paige over to Esme and Carlisle’s house for a few hours. Edward and I are long overdue on some alone time, clothing absolutely not permitted.

Paige isn’t in her room which is a problem because that means she’s somewhere in this house and I never heard her get up from her nap. Stealth must just be in the gene pool.

Finally, I find her in the play room coloring quietly.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“I just coloring.”

“Why didn’t you come find me when you got up from your nap? You know the rules.”

“Umm…I wanted to color.”

“You scared Mommy. You should always come find me or call for me when you get up, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy.”

Sigh. I’ll be repeating that again tomorrow…and the next day…and probably the next.

“What are you coloring?”

“Umm…Alibaby.”

“Alibaby…what’s an…oh! You mean Alice’s new baby?”

“Mmhmm. He’s in a pink blanket ‘cause pink is better than blue.”

“Oh. Well I’m sure she’ll love it. Let me see.”

All I can make out is something that looks like a circle with two dots and then a bunch of pink scribble when I take a closer look at the notebook she’s drawing in. I’ve never seen it before and it’s not like a composition notebook. It’s leather bound and the pages look older.

“Paige…where did you find this notebook?” I ask her carefully, not wanting to make her think she was in trouble…yet.

Blank stare.

Crickets.

Another genetic trait. Obviously reassurance is needed, so I try again.

“Lady Love, you aren’t in trouble. I just want to know where you found this cool notebook.”

“Um, I found it in da closet.”

“Which closet?”

“Da one in your room when I was hiding from Noah behind Daddy’s clothes.”

Hmm. Curiouser and curiouser.

“Okay. Well why don’t I take the picture out of this book carefully so that you can give it to Alice when we go visit her tomorrow while you go potty one more time. We need to leave pretty soon, okay?”

“’Kay, Mommy.”

She hops down and runs off to the bathroom and I start thumbing through the notebook. My heart stops, recognizing the handwriting immediately.


January 24, 2011

I’ve seen her…looking. But she looks at me differently than the others do. She gently chews on her full bottom lip, occasionally furrows her brow and cocks her head like she’s trying to figure me out. She blushes when she’s caught…her nose and cheeks, her neck and further down under the collar of her shirt. For the first time in a long time…I think I’d like to know more.

January 27, 2011

I find myself wanting her attention, just waiting for her eyes to meet mine.

February 3, 2011

I was running late for study hall today and decided to go ahead and dress for practice. But being in autopilot also meant I dressed all the way down to my cleats. I didn’t think about the God awful noise they’d make in the library. I took a little ribbing from Emmett and Jasper about it, but the good news?

I definitely had Bella’s attention.

February 12, 2011

The way we trade glances and smiles…it’s getting to me…in lots of ways. I think I’m going to have to spend extra time at the batting cages…get rid of the excess…energy.

We can’t dance around each other forever. I want to know her. I have to talk to her soon. This shyness is getting ridiculous…hers and mine.


Oh my God! It’s a journal! Edward’s journal! From when we were dating! How have I never known about this?

...

February 13, 2011

I told her about Bella. About how she's Emmett's cousin but not really anything like him. About how beautiful she is and how bad I want to ask her out. About how she seems so shy that I'm not sure how to approach her without scaring her off.

I die. This man is precious. He always has been and this…well this is just written proof!

Lucy's suggestion? "Well, you're always at the library when you see her, so why not say, 'I made sure to bring my library card 'cause I knew I'd be checkin' you out.'" I swear we aren't related.

...

I laugh so hard I snort and just the time I do, my very amused husband sneaks up on me.

“And just what are you laughing at?” he asks, walking over to me with the cutest girl in the world on his hip, her copper curls tucked just beneath his matching colored scruffy chin.

“Oh! Shit!” I scream.

“You said an ugly word again, Mama,” Paige giggles.

Edward reaches into his back pocket and retrieves his wallet, fishing out another dollar for what is quickly becoming hundreds.

“Go put this in your piggy bank and get your shoes. You can finish watching Dora ‘til it’s time to go.”

“’Kay, Daddy.” Her little arms squeeze him around his neck, holding him closer to her little pink lips that smack a big wet kiss on the side of his face before he puts her down and she runs off once again.

“You know…between you and Emmett, she’ll have college paid for by the time she hits the second grade,” he chuckles, walking over to me slowly…deliberately.

Uunngg…come to Mama, big boy.

“While completely true, still not funny.”

“What are you reading?”

“Oh…um…well…Paige found it,” I stammer, holding it out to him and completely throwing my three year old under the bus.

Dear Members of the Board: Please make that Mother of the Year plaque out to Bella Cullen. Thank you.

“Oh, God, I haven’t seen this thing in ages!” he chuckles.

He sits down beside me on the floor and begins thumbing through the pages, sometimes laughing, sometimes groaning.

Memories. They have a way of making you wonder just what in the hell you were thinking sometimes.

“How much of this did you read?” he asks, clearly still amused.

I curl up in his lap, burying my nose in his neck and just…sniffing him. Still clean, warm sunshine, but no longer a boy. No…he’s all man, now.

I know I’m not in trouble, but a little pre-playtime warm up never hurt anyone.

“Just a few entries. You totally should have used Lucy’s pick up line. I would have fallen for it,” I giggle.

“Hmm, I just bet.”

“I liked seeing your thoughts. Reminded me what it was like back then, all shyness and newness and first kisses.”

“We’ve certainly changed.”

“Yes we have. And for the better.”

“What’s your favorite from in here?”

I flip through the pages, reliving so many magical memories through his eyes and short but sweet words.

“Well, I like reading the ones where you actually wrote how you felt about me, especially the racy ones.”

“Racy?”

“Mmhm…like this one.”

February 27, 2011

If I thought Bella was beautiful before, now I think she's perfect. Her skin with the creams and the blushes…everywhere. Her hair all over my pillow. The arch of her back and the curl of her toes when she has an orgasm…

...

“Oh, yeah…that was a good night,” he whispers in my ear, teasing the rim with his nose and the lobe with his tongue.

“And this one,” I point out, swallowing hard. It’s getting a little warm in here, I think.

...

March 22, 2011

I talk to Bella every day, several times a day and we finally got a chance to Skype. She's a devil woman, though. Perfect tits on display. Killing me. Like I'm not jerking off enough as it is thanks to her dirty good morning texts. I really hope she keeps up with those when we get back to school.

...

“Mmhm…I remember that. And these,” he says, his hands making a tickly-warm path under my shirt until he reaches my breasts, teasing my nipples through the thin cotton before dipping his fingers just inside the cups.

“Oh…ah…and this one, too.”

...

May 12, 2011

God she's sexy without even trying. She's giving and I swear there are days when all I want to do is take…take it all…her mouth, her tits, her sex…

Shit…cold shower time.

...

I’ve turned around in his lap, straddling him while I read his words back to him.

“A shower would be good. But not a cold one. I’m thinking,” he says, trailing off while kissing my neck and collarbones and then lowering his hand to rub between my legs.

Sweet. Fancy. Moses. Right there.

“What are you thinking?”

I have to know. For the love of all that is holy, don’t make me use my imagination when the reality is so much better.

“Hot shower. Like…rain in August…humid…almost sticky…hard to breathe…panting…water rolling down your skin while I…”

“What? Say it,” I beg, moving his hand so I can rock against the hardness I feel underneath me.

“Lick. Every. Last. Drop.” He thrusts his hips up into mine, strong and with a freakin’ purpose.

Mothercusser.

“Fuck, Pretty. How long ‘til Dora’s over?” he groans and grips my hips, helping me to grind.

“Ten minutes…no…seven. Commercials at the end. She never watches,” I pant.

“Then you better hold on.”

Hell, yes!

Bottoms are all that count when you’re getting naked in a play room floor and you’re already on borrowed time.

He thrusts and buries himself inside me. He hisses and I moan and God, it’s just so damn good. That first feeling, fitting together, hard and deep meeting wet and warm. But right now
isn’t the time to relish. We have all night for that. Something I swear on my life I’ll do. But right now…right now I just…

“I need you,” he says, finishing my thought.

“Yes.”

Our hips move together, pushing and pulling, a synchronized rhythm from the beginning, a dance memorized with so many years of loving.

“You gotta come on, Pretty. I can’t hold out much longer.”

“Harder, then.”

His nostrils flare as he pounds and grunts and the complete carnality of it all drives me mad with lust and love and I bite his bicep to muffle my moan of complete and total ecstasy. My legs squeeze around his hips tighter until his uneven thrusts jerk, then still.

He shifts to the side, propping on one elbow as he traces the lines of my face.

“How much time do we have left?”

I look at the watch on my limp noodle of an arm.

“Two minutes,” I reply, patting him on the ass.

“A new record,” he chuckles, placing his finger in the indention on my bottom lip, waiting for me to kiss and nibble like I always do.

“Not even close,” I say, giving him what he wants and then pushing him off so we can quickly redress. If we’re lucky Paige will take her time coming up the steps, or perhaps find some other trouble to get into on the way.

“Remember that time at my parent’s house? When you came to visit for the Fourth of July the summer after you graduated?”

“Oh, yeah. Hey, I had to be quick. The mothers were in full on hover mode that weekend.”

“This is why we live close to your parents and not mine.”

“Mama! Daddy! Dora’s over! Time for Meme and Pop-Pop’s house!” we hear from a little voice ascending the stairs.

“Speaking of,” he murmurs against my temple, wrapping his arms around me while our toddler tries her best to push us apart.

“You get Jonah up and changed and I’ll finish packing his bag; then we can go,” I say over my shoulder.

“Hey…what about later?” he asks, lazy grin and wicked smirk blazing.

Good thing I already need new panties.

“Oh, don’t you worry, Crackerjack. I’ve got plans.”

“Well you know how I like plans, Pretty.”