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The apartment, a white narrow building with a cobblestone front, is much smaller in person than Edward could have imagined. A swirling staircase leading up to the front door, a large window in the living room, entices Edward inside, however. If life with Bella required him to live here, then so be it. Nothing so grand or wealthy could come close to Bella—as a being, as a love, as a space to be together.
Much to Edward’s prediction, Bella was hesitant about the idea of paying rent for an apartment, and even more so when Carlisle told her he would pay the rent in full for her four-year tenure, or, if she so wished, find a much more spacious, convenient space for her and Edward. Staying in a traditional dorm room was also off Bella’s limits; an apartment allowed her both the luxurious privacy away from campus and the college lifestyle she wished for only a few minutes’ walk away. Charlie found Carlisle’s financial offer an easy decision, and only then could Bella sigh, begrudgingly accepting the generous extension of wealth that came with being attached to the Cullen family; after all—human or not—she was now part of their lives, and that was for the better.
What Bella never understood was that Esme and Carlisle have been waiting years, decades, to supply a life to Edward and his future mate. A night in particular flashes through Edward’s mind before it slips away: a couple days before Carlisle and Esme’s anniversary, Bella and Edward in the large space of the living room. Carlisle helped with dinner, and afterwards, Esme gifted her an album of her favorite photos throughout the years, each left with a note of history for Bella to connect them to. Edward remembers Bella’s shocked, yet hesitant, expression when receiving the gift, but once she begin looking through the photos, her eyes began to soften at a picture of Edward—a shot of Edward, after his rebellious years, hanging like a monkey off a tree, swinging back and forth with a big, youthful smile on his face—running her finger over the outline of his silhouette. In that distractive moment, it was as if she cared more about the person inside of all of these photos than the act of the gift itself—and that was enough for Edward.
For Bella to be human with needs much more bigger than their own only made it so much easier. Once they started they realized they would never stop, overfilled with the feeling of giving something to someone who meant so much to Edward, with no intention of getting something in return.
The sliding back door opens up to a small patio, an awning to catch the rain when Edward takes a step outside as he notices the two rocking chairs underneath it. He shuts the door and pulls on it closed, testing the strength of the lock, sighing under his breath; he’s never had to worry about this before, not in a long time.
Edward runs a hand through his hair and counts the raindrops racing down the windowpane of the door to distract himself. Bella’s voice cut through his contemplative concern.
“Hey,” she says, sounding distant even just a few feet in the kitchen; her hair shines in the small stained-glass window that overlooks the backyard. There’s an unreadable twist to her mouth Edward can’t quite decipher from a distance that makes him wonder what she’s thinking about. “You okay?”
“Yes.” He can’t even convince himself.
The look on her face is indisputable: worry. “Are you regretting this?”
The crease forming in between his brow hurts. Edward draws her in closer, humming at how she relaxes into him instantly, her head against his chest. “No, of course not. This may not be my most ideal living space, but any place is perfect with you. I can’t believe I almost deprived you of all of this—living like a human. Like you should be living. This is only the start to an extraordinary chapter of your life, Bella.”
Her breathing is like a melody to his ears, but he’s able to catch the hitch in his breath at his words; a realization of reality for the next four years, so distant from her agonizing wish she once had. “It wasn’t your fault, Edward. I wanted this for myself.”
“Will you hate me, if you don’t like it here?”
Bella turns to look up at him, her hands grazing his waist to twist the fabric of his shirt into fists as if to never let him go. Not now, not ever. “I could never hate you.”
Edward puts his hands on her shoulders and begins to gently sway their bodies together. Bella slides her hands up his waist to his shoulders, clasping her fingers at the nape of his neck. It feels like yesterday Edward was coaxing her into dancing with him in his bedroom. Even with her balance still slightly uncoordinated, she’s now dancing with him without hesitation in the sunlight of their kitchen, an emboldening happiness fluttering in Edward’s chest.
After a few moments Bella stops their bodies suddenly, her lips pressed together. “Oh, how could I forget,” she mutters under her breath, Edward just barely able to make out the words. She shakes her head and walks over to one of her bags by the stairs, rummaging through each pocket.
“Bella?”
“I got you a gift,” Bella says, blushing. Edward traces the pink color on her cheeks with his thumb, swiping gently until the color grows. He can’t help getting used to it, watching her be so expressive, so human in her love for him.
“A gift for me? It’s your day, Bella.”
“It’s your day too, technically.”
“Fair enough,” Edward concedes, curious. “What did you get me?”
“Guess.”
He looks down at the long rectangular-shaped present in his hands, smiling at the fangs Bella drew with sharpie on some of the snowmen’s mouths on the wrapping paper. “It’s not something I already have, is it?”
Bella squints. “Not really,” she says slowly. “Why?”
Edward grins at the memory forming in his head. “One year, Emmett thought it would be funny to periodically steal some belongings from me—a shirt, a CD, whatever—throughout the year and then on Christmas he gave them back to me as gifts.”
Bella laughs, a sweet sound in his ears. “Did he really think you wouldn’t know?”
“I think he just wanted to see the look on my face.”
“Care to show me?”
He shakes his head, laughing. “Depends on what you got me as a gift.”
“Open it,” Bella urges.
“You really didn’t have to get me anything. You are a gift yourself, and that’s all I need.
Bella rolls her eyes, but a smile still forms on her lips, her eyes twinkling back at Edward. “You’re so ancient sometimes.”
“I think of myself as historically affectionate, actually.”
“Who tells you that?” Bella teases.
Edward smiles. “Esme, of course.”
He begins to unwrap the present, carefully undoing the tape to preserve the gift paper to save for later, and just by its flat surface and narrow divots in the front does Edward realize it’s one of those toy pianos that runs on batteries and a child’s imagination.
Bella bows her head down, hiding her expression in her hands. “I know it’s cheesy. I would have bought you an actual piano if I had the money. But anyway, I wanted you to have your own piano here, since you might miss the one back home.”
It feels so small in his hands as he turns on the power switch, pressing his hands to the keys and playing a couple notes, each distinct sound flooding whatever is left of his cold, lifeless heart with pure joy.
Edward brings Bella's body close to his, resting his chin on the top of her head. He feels her nestle into the crook of his shoulder, breathing him in; he does the same, his senses happily overwhelmed with her floral scent.
“Bella, it’s perfect. Thank you.”
“I guess we thought the other would both miss home a bit. One day, we’ll have a home together and I’ll get you a bigger piano.”
He hums in affirmation at that idea. Whether Bella be undead or alive, a life with her is all Edward asks for. Until her, the future was always void and meaningless, a repeating cycle on loop until Edward inevitably got sick of it and took the cowardly way out. The life Bella has given him—and allowed him to receive—is nearly unrecognizable from the life he once had before.
He has her, and he will not let her go again.