Chapter Twelve

~Getting Real~

BPOV

Except for a few text messages back and forth over the last couple of days, James and I haven't seen each other since our shift on Wednesday, when he told me about Tori and Edward. I had Thursday off and he had Friday off, so to celebrate a night when we are both unencumbered, James offered to cook for me tonight at his house.

To clarify, it's actually his parents' house, but it's where he and Edward are currently living until they finish construction on the Four Seas Bed and Breakfast.

The Cullens' shore home

The Cullens' home is in Harvey Cedars which is a small town just a minute or two south on Long Beach Boulevard from my home in Loveladies. The houses there are just as extravagant, if not more so. I have a feeling that their home will be stunning.

I know I can't put off telling James about my accident any longer. Especially since I've learned that, in order to extract information from Edward on our history, I have to give a little and clue him in as to why I need so much help remembering certain things. It's important that James hears the details first. So, tonight's the night. I pray I don't chicken out.

Edward told me he recognized me from an event where he tended bar years ago. He says I was there with my mom and dad as party guests. I see no reason not to believe him, but jeez, why so hostile, then? I mean, how much input about me or my life could he gain from seeing me from afar for one night? I must have ordered plenty of Shirley Temples with extra cherries, not to mention my parents' Royal Manhattans and White Zinfandels. I imagine they'd have to have been lushes, ordering dozens of drinks for him to remember those specific orders.

Did we really stand out THAT much, that he could place me so easily? Was I THAT terrible of a girl that in ONE night he could form the solid opinion that I was a raging bitch like he told Rose?

It seems to me that, if his photographic memory is that damn impressive, and he remembers my parents and me so clearly from just one night of minimal interaction, he's clearly wasting his talents here in Long Beach Island…he should really work for NASA or something. But who am I to judge?

I replay our short conversation over and over in my mind, and though I have no way to know if he's telling me the truth, I'm left seriously doubting that he's been as forthcoming as I would hope. I'm so desperate for answers.

I know I should live in the present. Be thankful for what I do have in my life. I have a home, I have more than enough money. I have a new job that I'm enjoying. I have a handful of friends who would bend over backwards for me and I would do the same for them.

But.

At the end of the day, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't longing for answers about my past.

As I park the car in James's driveway, I remind myself to be brave and just give the facts as I know them. If I don't get weepy, then chances are that James will handle himself well, also. He'll take his cues from me. There's no reason for this to turn into a waterworks fest.

Come on, Bella. Let's do this.

~~~~~L~A~S~T~C~A~L~L~~~~~

"James, that veal was phenomenal. Have you always wanted to be a chef?" I follow him into this fabulous great room with two-story windows facing the ocean. Even though it's the middle of June, he flicks a switch and turns on the fireplace for some ambiance. We settle into the over-stuffed cream-colored sofa with our glasses of wine and continue talking.

"Oh, yeah. At least, since I was a teenager. I waited tables for a few summers at this great place in Ocean City called The Chatterbox, ever heard of it?"

I shake my head, knowing full well I don't know anything about Ocean City, except that's where I was with Emmett and Rose when I saw the hotel that seemed familiar to me.

"Well, anyway, it's gone through its share of owners, but it's always maintained its name and its pink exterior. They have a fun menu, you know, soup, sandwiches, burgers, chicken…stuff like that. And even though I loved being a bus boy and waiter there, I loved hanging out in the kitchen more and watching the cooks at work. The boss used to get angry with me because I would doctor up certain dishes with extra spices or sauces that I would throw together at the last minute. The diners would rave about the taste. When my boss would question me as to what I did, I was never able to replicate it because it was just a spur of the moment kinda thing. It's not that the food ended up tasting bad, it's just that when a repeat customer would come back and ask for the same dish, it wouldn't taste the same, the boss would get frustrated and then I'd get in trouble for messing around with his menu and his 'regulars'."

"He eventually banned me from the kitchen because I was enhancing some plates and not others and it just got too confusing. I knew then I needed to get myself into my own kitchen and start concocting dishes AND writing down what I was doing with them. I decided to enroll at the Culinary Institute of America in New York. Edward was already halfway through the fast-track program at Wharton for his MBA. He also had gained a great amount of knowledge and experience working at the Flanders Hotel, and he recognized his calling."

"Once we both finished our degrees, we pooled our money, my parents backed us with the remainder needed for the purchase of the hotel & restaurant and the rest, as they say, is history!"

My ears perk up at James's mention of the Flanders.

"You said your brother worked at the Flanders?" I ask trying to keep the excitement out of my voice.

I watch the color drain from James's face. His next words are fumbled, but come spilling out a mile a minute.

"Umm, yeah. Edward worked there for several summers through high school and into college. So how about you? Did you have any dreams about what you wanted to be when you grew up? I'm sure waiting tables wasn't on the list…even though we love having you and Kate says you've been doing really well."

He leans in, giving me a quick peck in a gesture of pride, I suppose. I, however, am still stuck on Edward working at the Flanders and now James has given me the perfect 'in' to start talking about my history.

Might as well go for it.

Sigh.

Here goes nothin'!

~~~~~L~A~S~T~C~A~L~L~~~~~

James listens intently while I explain what I know of my history and how the car accident has shaped my life ever since. He never interrupts. He only nods, gasps and shakes his head in frustration in all the right places. At one point, he grabs my hand and holds it tightly.

Recounting the facts as I know them, I manage not to cry. My eyes only get misty once, when I mention that my dad didn't make it through the second emergency surgery that night. It haunts me to this day that I never got to say goodbye to him. As far as I'm concerned, that was the most awful part of that night. The only true pain I ever felt was the loss of my father. I didn't have the greatest relationship with my mother, from what little I remember, and how could I miss a husband I never remembered meeting in the first place?

Then, I explain what I was told about my condition and my diagnosis. I need James to understand why I don't know much about what happened…only what Aunt Didyme shared with me. She was with me through my comatose state and with me through my recovery. She was the one who filled in the blanks for me as best she could.

Finally, I remind him of the portion of the story concerning the decline of my aunt's health. I'd been discharged for almost ten months when she was diagnosed with cancer. We had a long time to prepare for it. Knowing the prognosis made it good in some ways and bad in others. We switched roles of caretaker and patient and, fourteen months later, we said goodbye. She died seven weeks ago, today.

"God, Bella. Your story is unbelievable. I…I don't even know what to say." James has a look of profound sorrow in his eyes.

"You don't have to say anything. I just appreciate you listening to me. I needed you to know about what happened because—"

"Because…?"

"Well, because I think your brother knows me. In fact, I'm certain of it…I just don't know to what extent. I realize we sorta glossed over what happened on Monday. But the whole Eric/Edward mix-up thing really threw me for a loop. Your brother revealed some pretty dreadful opinions of me when he spoke with Rose at the bar on Memorial Day Weekend. Whether we were acquaintances, friends, mortal enemies or some combination of the above, his behavior tells me that he knew me at some point and it wasn't a pleasant or memorable experience."

James continues to listen and offers no reaction while I continue my speech.

"Anyway, I'd really appreciate it if you would let me relay this story to him on my own and in my own time. I plan to do it sooner rather than later, because with each passing day, I feel like he has something he wants to tell me… but he just loses the nerve. He must've really disliked me if he's so opposed to getting into a discussion about our past."

"I'm so sorry about that mistaken identity thing at the bar. Poor Eric, good thing I didn't flip out on him, huh?" James laughs to lighten the mood.

"Yeah… how crazy is it that you had an Eric working for you alongside your brother? Anyway, I'm sorry for the part I played in the craziness."

"Oh, stop it, you don't have to apologize for that. And as far as my brother goes… I don't know much about your history together, but after hearing your story tonight about your accident and memory loss, it would make sense that he's remembering you from a time that you're unable to place. I'm sure he'll be able to explain what he knows."

"I hope so. I feel like I keep scaring him off, like he doesn't know how to act around me. It makes me even more nervous and on edge than I already am, learning the ropes as a new server! I consider it a gigantic feat that I haven't fallen flat on my face this week carrying a tray of food or dumped a drink all over a table of customers. I'm just that clumsy!"

"Oh, you are, are you? You couldn't have told me that before I hired you? Maybe I should rethink this." James quirks an eyebrow at me in a playful challenge.

"Hey! Shut up! I've been doing a very good job…you even told me you were proud of me from the few times you've seen me in action."

"I am. I'm very proud of you! I cannot tell a lie." James holds up two fingers as if he's giving me his "Scout's Honor".

"Okay, George Washington. What other truths are you going to share with me, then?" I decide to keep playing along.

I like that we've turned from the heavy to the fun stuff. There's nothing worse than dwelling on the miserable puzzle that is my former life.

"Well... first, your story goes no further than this room tonight. I promise to stay quiet for as long as you need me to, but I'd encourage you to speak with Edward as soon as you're able. I think it'll make you both feel better to clear the air."

"And second?"

"Just that I think you're an amazingly strong lady. You were intriguing to me prior to hearing your story. But now that I know what you've been through…you're pretty spectacular, Bella. I'm kinda digging you."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. C'mere." He grabs at the belt loop of the khaki mini skirt I'm wearing and tugs me close, leaning in for a searing kiss. I twist my body toward his, decide to go for broke and straddle his lap. For several minutes we get lost in each other.

Lips and tongues and hands and gripping and pulling and heavy breathing and soft moans.

James unexpectedly pulls away for a second, but comes back and leans his forehead against mine.

"Bella, if we don't stop here, I may lose any semblance of self-control and become less than a gentleman, and I don't want that to happen just yet. My momma raised me right." He confesses with his eyes squeezed shut, as if it pains him to deliver the message.

"Damn your mother." I sigh in defeat.

He bursts out in laughter. "I know, right? I can't help it though. I'm really loving getting to know you and I just want to keep a good pace and not rush into things. There's something so genuine about you. I feel like this could lead somewhere, but I don't want to put the cart before the horse, so to speak. Does that make sense?"

"Well, I respect that. But I did enjoy those kisses, just so you know…y'know, for future reference."

"Duly noted, my dear. I guarantee there'll be more of those. And more, more down the road. I just don't want you to think that I brought you here to my house to rope you into something you aren't ready for."

"No, I understand. And I really do appreciate it. I've had a great night. Thank you so much for listening to me and not freaking out after hearing my sordid tale."

"You're more than welcome. I'm here for you…whenever you'd like to talk. Seriously, I mean it." He adds with a nod.

I move in for another kiss but keep it chaste. I don't want to tempt either of us when things seem to be going so well, and we just discussed not rushing into anything super-heavy.

"I'm gonna get going. I have an earlier shift starting in the morning to do some training in the kitchen with the cooks."

"Okay. Let me walk you out." I back up off his lap and stand to straighten my skirt. James holds my hand all the way to the driveway while he opens the car door and closes it behind me.

Hello? Is there a more charming guy out there?

Serious, SERIOUS swoonage going on here.

~~~~~L~A~S~T~C~A~L~L~~~~~

I get settled in bed and replay the night's events in my head. James continues to amaze me with his sincerity and his genuine kindness. I can't understand how he and Edward can be brothers. There's such a vast difference in their demeanor. For as kind and friendly as James is, Edward shows me he's the exact opposite. Granted, I realize that the way he acts toward me could be because of our past history, but for now I can safely say they're polar opposites of each other. Edward, though insanely gorgeous, isn't anywhere near the same league as James.

The waves crashing outside my bedroom door provide a relaxing soundtrack as I slowly drift off and allow sleep to claim my body and mind.

Nnnngh. I'm pinned against the bookshelf in the office at Last Call again. It's dark and I can't focus very well on all of the details of the scene. I can see the soft glow of the computer sitting on the desk, the outline of the couch along the front wall and I feel the same hard edges of the shelf digging into my lower back, just like they were a few days ago when I was in this office with James.

I feel his hot breath below my ear as he places delicate and sensual kisses along my neck and down to my collar bone. I feel the strap of my tank top slip to the side. His tongue traces a pattern along the top of my shoulder and I'm feeling dizzy.

My fingers are digging into his shoulders now that I've wrapped my arms around his chest and up his back. I'm scratching at his t-shirt; he lets a small moan escape, obviously enjoying the scraping of my nails on his shoulder blades.

I feel his grip on my hips get tighter when he simply picks me up and my legs involuntarily wrap around his waist. His mouth has left my right shoulder and he's nipping his way across the base of my neck to the left side.

He carries me across the room and sits down on the couch with me now straddling his legs. I move my hands from around his back up to his neck and cup his jaw. I can feel the stubble on his chin pinching under the pads of my fingers. I move over to his ear and start placing my own wet kisses on his earlobe, which I just have to take a nibble of. I hear him chuckle and sigh as I move toward his mouth. Our lips mingle together and move at an unhurried pace.

Licking, sucking, gently biting at one another...drawing the pleasure out as much as possible.

His hands have meandered as well. I can feel one at the base of my hairline on the back of my neck, while the other is kneading my ass, perched perfectly on his lap.

I have to pull back. I know that I do. James doesn't want us to rush this and again I'm tempting him too much.

I can feel the muscles in my belly start to tighten as he continues to breathe hot and heavy while licking my jaw and my neck.

I feel his hand drop from my neck and move across my chest where he brushes across my nipple, which instantly stands at attention under my tank top. I know I'm moments away from tipping over the cliff into a free fall of orgasmic bliss, but it's unfair to keep going.

Just as my conscience takes over and I decide to be the one to pull back, a bright light switches on and my eyes have to adjust to the scene.

"What is this?" I hear a woman screech from across the room.

My eyes continue to flutter, taking in what's going on around me. I look down and, instead of finding the blonde hair I expected, I find the brownish Crayola mishmash itself, locks going this way and that and the heavy breathing of none other than Edward.

I can't tell if it's my eyes still trying to adjust, possibly the way his are, but he's gazing at me with a faint smile as he licks his lips, clearly pleased with what's just happened.

I try to back up and pull myself off his lap, but his fingers tighten around my waist as the woman's voice gets louder, demanding to know what's going on.

Edward is saying nothing. Just continuing to hold my stare.

"We— we can't do this. You have to let me go." I stutter and struggle to try and break free from his hypnotic glare.

I yank myself back, and the next thing I know, I've fallen backwards onto the floor, right on my ass!

OOOOPH!

I try to get my bearings and realize that I'm in my bedroom lying unceremoniously on my floor. I must have fallen off the damn bed!

Holy shit! I cannot believe I just dreamed of Edward like that… AGAIN! 

Come on! JAMES was the one who pinned me to the bookshelf several days ago! JAMES was the one who had me on a couch, straddling his lap last night, while we made out like two horny teenagers on the verge of getting caught!

WHAT AM I DOING?

This isn't right. I can't keep lusting after one brother while I'm dating the other!

Who does that? This isn't Wysteria Lane!

Edward is hotter than a firecracker lit at both ends. But he's taken. And not just taken, engaged! That's serious.

Taunted by her dreams

Even if I wasn't with James, I can't compete with somebody who's wearing his ring. Somebody else clearly holds the key to his heart. I need to stop torturing myself with these outrageous fantasies.

They can't and won't ever happen.

If I say it enough, hopefully my subconscious will accept it and move on as well.

I look over to my nightstand and see that it's 8:26 am.

"SONOFABISCUIT!"

There's nothing I hate more than waking up RIGHT before my alarm is supposed to go off. My body couldn't hold off four more minutes?

Ugh.

May as well pull myself together. I have to be at work in an hour, anyway.

I try not to think about the dream any more. Clearly my body is remembering all the fantastic physical encounters I've had with James in the last week and my mind is focusing on the looming talk with Edward.

That makes sense! It doesn't mean anything more than that. I shake my head at myself and head into the shower. A hot shower, a cup of coffee and a beautiful, sunny June Sunday. That's all I need to get my head together.

Must find the boss and have a heart-to-heart. Time for some answers.