I can’t help but feel that all this is a half-bubble off. How could these two bond so tightly over risotto. It makes no sense. I’d been prepared to hear Bella skewered against Rosalie’s virtues, but it would appear that this would not be forthcoming. I was steeled against hearing how the Yank didn’t measure up, but this; I was not prepared for this! Bloody hell! Esme has accepted my Beauty as my bride without word, and without exception. There’s a spot reserved for me in hell; this much is assured.
My father and I share a glance as Bella and Mum chinwag over places we must visit when we are in Rome. Bella chimes in with places she’s been and would like to visit again. At one point, Mum surprises me when she looks to my father, and suggests that we visit a bed and breakfast in Fiuggi owned their dear, old friends, the Morettis. That’s odd, I didn’t realize that Mum knew the Morettis. I don’t remember them being around when I was a lad. If I didn’t know better, my father may have just shot Mum a warning glare in response. How peculiar.
“Edward and Bella are already slated to pay Carmen and Eleazar a visit, Esme.”
“Excellent! Will it be too much trouble to have you courier a note, and some homemade marmalade?”
I roll my eyes and look to my father for rescue, but before he can intervene, Bella pipes up, “We’d be happy to deliver them for you, wouldn’t we, Eng…E…Edward.” As she reaches over, affectionately covering the hand I have laying on the table with her own, I can’t help but note that is the very first time that she’s ever called me by name. Hearing my name spill from her lips even if she does stumble over it a bit is better than the sweetest symphony, and I immediately long for her to say it again. The combination of my name on her lips, and her hand resting gently over mine has me transfixed.
She squeezes my hand again, apparently to elicit a response from me, and my wish is answered when she clears her throat, “Edward?”
I look up and immediately notice that the lot of them are staring at me as if I’ve gone daft, and I can’t say that I disagree with them. I quickly recover, and smile at my Beauty, flipping my hand over to take her palm in mine, and look to my mother. “We will be delighted to be your carrier pigeons, mother.”
Mum laughs as she reaches for my father’s plate and shakes her head, “Cheeky bugger. I’ll be sure to send it with you when you leave tonight. Don’t let me forget! Bella?”
Bella smiles and I feel her subtly yet imperceptibly try to withdraw her had from mine, but I hold her firm as she responds, “Of course, Esme. We won’t leave without it, I promise.”
My father and I share a glance as Bella and Mum chinwag over places we must visit when we are in Rome. Bella chimes in with places she’s been and would like to visit again. At one point, Mum surprises me when she looks to my father, and suggests that we visit a bed and breakfast in Fiuggi owned their dear, old friends, the Morettis. That’s odd, I didn’t realize that Mum knew the Morettis. I don’t remember them being around when I was a lad. If I didn’t know better, my father may have just shot Mum a warning glare in response. How peculiar.
“Edward and Bella are already slated to pay Carmen and Eleazar a visit, Esme.”
“Excellent! Will it be too much trouble to have you courier a note, and some homemade marmalade?”
I roll my eyes and look to my father for rescue, but before he can intervene, Bella pipes up, “We’d be happy to deliver them for you, wouldn’t we, Eng…E…Edward.” As she reaches over, affectionately covering the hand I have laying on the table with her own, I can’t help but note that is the very first time that she’s ever called me by name. Hearing my name spill from her lips even if she does stumble over it a bit is better than the sweetest symphony, and I immediately long for her to say it again. The combination of my name on her lips, and her hand resting gently over mine has me transfixed.
She squeezes my hand again, apparently to elicit a response from me, and my wish is answered when she clears her throat, “Edward?”
I look up and immediately notice that the lot of them are staring at me as if I’ve gone daft, and I can’t say that I disagree with them. I quickly recover, and smile at my Beauty, flipping my hand over to take her palm in mine, and look to my mother. “We will be delighted to be your carrier pigeons, mother.”
Mum laughs as she reaches for my father’s plate and shakes her head, “Cheeky bugger. I’ll be sure to send it with you when you leave tonight. Don’t let me forget! Bella?”
Bella smiles and I feel her subtly yet imperceptibly try to withdraw her had from mine, but I hold her firm as she responds, “Of course, Esme. We won’t leave without it, I promise.”
