Chapter Four

~That Nagging Feeling~

EPOV
Ugh. It's been a long-ass day and I'm exhausted. Crack of dawn delivery truck and inventory, gathering receipts from the weekend for the deposit, random toilet leak in the guys' bathroom and thoughts of Isabella Swan in and out of my mind all damn day.

This has to stop.

I need something to clear my freaking head.

I need to get outta here.

I need to get laid, that's what I need…but with Tori gone, I'm shit outta luck in that regard. Time for a shower and some alone time with my hand again, I suppose. This long distance shit is for the birds.

I think I'm getting callouses.

If I had it in me to tap into my long-lost inner playboy, I could easily call up any one of the dozen girls whose phone number was slipped my way this past weekend while tending the bar. But that's not me, at least not anymore. I've watched my parents have a long and happy marriage as each other's one true love and I want the same thing for me. Don't get me wrong, I certainly enjoyed my time as a bachelor, Lord knows I gained experience at an early age working the cabanas, but now that I have Tori, I'm off the market and I'm okay with that. That's how it should be.

I mean, come on…Tori's terrific. As a couple we're hot and our bedroom activities are great…and most importantly, we're good friends. We balance each other out. It's good. Really, it's good. I'm content. I'm comfortable. It's good. It's easy.

Wow, redundant much? God Edward, find a fucking thesaurus.

And suddenly I stop dead in my tracks.

Did I really just describe my relationship with my fiancée as good, comfortable and easy?

I mean, on the whole, those qualities are a great foundation…but maybe I should have some other words peppered in there like passionate, insatiable and spectacular. I mean, we aren't even married yet.

Ugh.

I need to turn my brain the hell off. My chest is starting to constrict and I'm giving myself a fucking headache. I can feel my neck tightening up and I can't wait to just stand under a hot shower so that the water can beat down on my muscles and get rid of all this built-up, bullshit tension.

Why is this crap running through my head all of a sudden? I wasn't questioning anything in my life up until three days ago.

That's it. Time to get outta here. I'm going home, showering, cracking open a beer and flopping my ass on my couch. Hopefully I'll stay awake long enough to catch the Phillies game.

Who am I kidding? The game will be watching me by the third inning, no doubt.

"Jesus, you look like shit. Must be the first Monday of the season," James chuckles while filling up the peanut bowls after spotting me exiting our office. "Good numbers this weekend?"

"Yeah. Excellent, actually. If it's any indication about how our summer will go, we'll be in great shape. Definitely enough to get started on refurbishing the hotel rooms, based on that contractor's estimate. And even better, we might be able to start buying our supplies for the Four Seas remodeling monster."

"Good deal. God knows we're going to need some serious bank to get through all these projects you're laying out for us," James groaned.

The Cullen Brothers, Edward & James.

"Man, look… I know it's going to cost crazy time and money, but it'll be so worth it in the end. We totally redid the outside of the Victorian to bring in the customers for the catering, and clearly it's working, right? Now we just need to restore what's inside to turn it into the luxury B&B. This is what we've planned for. Nobody said it was gonna be a walk in the park. So, we work our asses off this summer and save up as much as possible. Then, once the season ends here, we can start the remodel and hopefully it'll be good to go for next summer."

"Yeah, I know. I just don't see why we can't use the same hotel contractor to do the entire project at the Four Seas?"

"How about because we aren't made of money, dude? Yeah, we can pull in great numbers over the summer between here, the hotel and those random catering jobs; but all the labor it would cost to get someone else to do it? Knowing we've got the skills and know-how? I'd rather do it myself and be able to boast about how it's totally our baby. You'll see, trust me."

"Okay, okay, the lecturing of the younger brother ends here, thanks. Oh, I met with the people for that Harrington memorial service. Pretty straightforward menu. Three hot stations, two servers for the butlered hors d'oeuvres and one bartender. Nothing out of the ordinary except that it takes two days for these people to say goodbye to this old lady. I'm not complaining though, gives me two days to ogle the pretty little thing who hired us." James flashes his lady-killer grin and waggles his eyebrows.

Oh jeez, this poor girl, whoever she is, doesn't stand a chance.

The Cullen Charm has been known to ignite many wildfires. It's been proven. Trust me. Takes one to know one.

I roll my eyes at James's report.

"Well, just do me a favor and don't pull the 'love 'em and leave 'em' before the check clears. A two-day event like that will pull in some serious cash."

"Dude. I know this. I'm not a complete moron", he scoffs. "I mean, she seems sweet, maybe even dateable. We'll see. She's already called me up for coffee", he adds with a huge smile.

"Really? Little Cullen is ready to date a girl and it's only the first week of summer? You move fast, Prince Charming. Okay, whatever... I trust you. This is your livelihood, too. Listen, I'm outta here. I'm dead on my feet. Have a good night and I'll see you in the morning."

James laughs me off and nods as I head for the exit. Once I push the pub door open, the wall of humidity practically knocks me over. What the hell? It's still May, for crying out loud!



Edward's Volvo c70 Convertible

"Damn it!" I scream out to nobody in particular after practically searing off my skin. I sometimes still forget that I'm driving a new car with black leather seats that bake in the scorching summer sun. Gone are the days of my beater '90 Honda Accord with its worn, gray upholstery. That baby was ancient when I got her at seventeen years old, but she lasted me for the next eight years, bringing me to my newest love, my Volvo C70. She's glorious to look at and fucking phenomenal to drive. Sleek in black with a convertible roof to enjoy the ocean air and a Jersey summer; the perfect shore car. It was an early birthday gift to myself getting ready for this season. I plan to enjoy driving her as much as possible.

I make quick work of the fifteen minute drive north on Long Beach Boulevard and trim it to nine minutes. Even though the summer has unofficially kicked off, the towns north of Surf City are still on the quiet side. Loveladies and Harvey Cedars, where my parents have a shore home (and where James and I are crashing this summer as we continue to work on the B&B), are definitely more on the peaceful side; away from the constant buzz of tourists and sundries shops. It's in these two towns that the wealthiest usually choose to set up camp…at least on Long Beach Island. No hotels or motels up this way, just fantastically outrageous shore homes and rentals where the "other half" dwells.

Entering Harvey Cedars; Shore Home of the The Cullen Family

I realize this makes me sound really snobbish and possibly hypocritical, but I am only staying until the remodeling job is complete. I'll never begrudge my parents their money. They've worked damn hard to get where they are and they have every justification to enjoy it. But as partners in their own law firm, they rarely get a chance to enjoy themselves down here. If my brother and I weren't staying here since we decided to stop blowing money on rent in Ship Bottom, it would just be collecting dust. They bought it many years ago when James and I were just kids. Back then though, two teenage boys weren't interested in hanging on this sleepy island, and Aunt Liz's house in Ocean City was just the antidote we needed.

"SHIT!" I can't believe I just looped my train of thought all the way the hell back around to Ocean City and now I'm thinking about freaking Swan again! My head is fucked. Seriously.

I pull into the carport, jog up the back deck and immediately toss my keys, cell phone and wallet on a lounger. Rip off my t-shirt from the bar and dive right into the deep end of our sparkling pool.


Bliss.


Pool at the Cullens' shore home

The water temperature is a jolt to the system for sure. The late spring sun can't fully do the job of heating the pool to a less arctic feel. My sluggish mind that felt so freaking jumbled moments ago has been practically electroshocked back into coherence due to the frigid temperature. I swim over to the filter where we keep a thermometer and it reads sixty nine degrees. Yikes. That's freaking cold. Sixty-nine degrees.

Sixty-nine.

And suddenly shrinkage be damned, the thought of Isabella and the number sixty-nine has me feeling all hot and bothered. Couple that with the fan-fucking-tastic suede scraps (yet piss-poor excuse for a bathing suit that I was remembering earlier) and I'm feeling like a damn volcano about to blow my load.

Oh my god, what I could have done to her back then…what she could have done to me…well, I would never understand her deal, especially that incident when she was sixteen. Because come morning after that insane night, she was once again the damn Wicked Witch of the West and I was chopped liver. The rest of our history doesn't matter at all. Certainly never mattered to her, and she made sure I knew it.

I finish what seems to be about a million laps in the pool to work off this crazy fire down below, hop out and find a towel.

After a shower and a fresh pair of gray sweats, I crack open a Yuengling Lager, take two long pulls and recline in the lazy-boy. The Phillies game should be starting shortly, but ESPN has me zoning out while they're rattling off stats and schedules.

I stare blankly ahead, trying to make sense of what I know right now.

Fact: I saw her on Friday night and she seemed to have no recollection of me at all.

Fact: though she appeared sweet that night and totally harmless, I have to go on what history taught me. She was a selfish, spoiled brat who seriously doesn't deserve a second thought. She didn't then and she doesn't now, almost five years later.

Fact: I have a fiancée I love and am planning my future with, and she would NOT be happy with this little distraction.

Fact: there's nothing to say that I'll ever see Isabella again. She was with a girl I didn't recognize and may have only been in my pub for a random night out. It was Memorial Day Weekend. People go to the shore. People go to bars. It happens.

I think it's that final thought that gives me a slight sense of peace, because I drain my bottle of beer, set it down on the end table and suddenly feel my eyes getting very heavy. I can hear Scott Franzke start calling the play-by-play, but I'm not holding on.

I'm ready for this day to be over.

I'm ready to be done with thoughts of a chocolate-hair beauty who did nothing but hurt my pride years ago and is destined to repeat that action, should I allow her the slightest opening.

She's a non-issue. I'm done. No worries. End of story.

Chapter Three

                                                                                                                      ~I'm Doin' Just Fine~

 EPOV

"I miss you, too."

"Yeah, things are picking up around here ever since the summer crowd plowed into town over the weekend."

"The hotel's booked solid through Labor Day and we've got several parties on the calendar for catering throughout the summer."

"Yup."

"Mostly weddings… oh and a booking for a two-day memorial service, too."

"I don't know, some big-wig that passed away who knew more people than God, apparently."

"Ummm, I think the name was Harrington? I'm pretty sure that was it."

"Oh and one huge bash on July 4th weekend for an engagement party."

"I don't know… this lucky bastard who landed a lovely girl..."

"Yeah, maybe you know them."

"Hahaha. I know, but I'm your dork and you love me."

"Hey, you said yes. You're mine now."

"Okay, okay…tell that director to keep his grimy hands to himself."

"I know, I'm just kidding. I miss you, too. We'll talk again in a few days when you're back in the city with cell service."

"Love you, too. Bye baby."

Tori.

Edward Cullen

My fiancee.

I can't wait 'til she's back here in New Jersey and in my arms again. I hate when she has to go gallivanting all over the globe for location shoots. But I knew what I was getting myself into when I started dating the hair stylist for the "up and coming" Lauren Mallory. Nice girl, very attractive, decent actress, but sadly she's dumber than a bag of hammers. If she doesn't have a script in front of her, she seriously can't hold an intelligent conversation. I suppose it's a good thing that she's pretty much the latest and greatest in Hollywood these days. Studios are clamoring to get her signed to different movie deals. She certainly keeps my girl employed, but that translates into a long distance relationship for us for most of the year. It sucks.

Once we're married, I really hope that she'll consider opening up her own shop on the island. She originally approached me with the idea and I was thrilled. I hate when she's so far away for great lengths of time. Our entire relationship has basically been spent over the phone with occasional monthly visits peppered in here and there. I hope once we're together again, the connection is still there...I wonder sometimes. It's so hard to tell over the phone.
Now that the summer's here again though, we'll be together for the holiday weekend surrounding July 4th and then again once the film wraps after Labor Day. I don't know how or when we're going to plan all the details for the wedding, but that's Tori's mom's responsibility. Just give me my tux and tell me where to be on December 17th. The details don't matter much to me; I just want the end result.

I was all for hopping on a plane and eloping in Vegas, but Tori's mom had a shit fit at the premise, so here we are. We're catering the engagement party in five weeks and then some Jack and Jill thing in October- I have no idea what the fuck that is. Tori said something about a bridal shower, but for guys and girls…I don't know.

Whatever.

Like I said, just tell me where to be and I'll be there. Between Four Seas, the hotel & Last Call, my plate is overflowing.

Not many people can say that they get to live their dream, but that's what I do every single day. From the moment I started that hideous summer job in Ocean City when I was fifteen years old, I knew that I wanted to run my own restaurant. The fact that the job also gave me training in hotel operations didn't hurt either, now that I co-own the Surf City Hotel and Last Call Bar & Grill and the catering business with my little brother, James.

The hotel has been doing really well ever since we bought the building eighteen months ago, but it's an enormous undertaking. Granted, it's only twelve rooms, but it includes the restaurant and bar and James and I are the only ones involved in the day to day operations of both facilities. We only employ a staff of about twenty-five people, and that's during the summer, which is our busy season. It's a huge ordeal that keeps us insanely busy from sun up 'til sun down, 24/7 for three straight months…but I live for it. I've wanted to do this for as long as I can remember. During the off-season from Labor Day to Memorial Day, we trim the staff down to about a dozen, but both the hotel as well as the restaurant and bar are open year-round.

Too bad the Flanders Hotel, as I remember it, is defunct nowadays. I heard the management turned it into condos. I spent five summers there in Ocean City hustling my ass off for my boss but even more for the clients. I started out as a floater; part-time busboy in the restaurant and part-time attendant at the pool. I only had to do that for one summer, though, because the following year I was given the chance to work the cabanas and I jumped at it.

The cabanas at the Flanders Hotel were where the wealthiest families spent their time. There were fifteen cabanas available to be rented and only three of us got the gig. They were almost always full, so that meant that the three of us had five cabanas each and we'd make a killing. They were either rented by the weekend, the week, or in a couple of cases, the full summer. As cabana boys, our job was to literally do whatever we needed to make the lives of the clients happy.

Ocean City was and still is a dry town, so we didn't have a bar that we were running back and forth to, but that didn't stop some families from slipping us huge amounts of cash to be able to make drinks for them from the stash that they would provide for themselves. Hell, that's where I got all my bartender training; learning to make the perfect Manhattan or Mojito at the ripe, young age of sixteen.

Mike, Tyler, and I were the cabana boys for the remaining four years I worked there because it was just too sweet a deal to walk away from. High society from Philly, Cherry Hill, Moorestown, and sometimes even all the way from New York City would spend their summer vacations at the Flanders and, more often than not, these were the same families that rented cabanas. 18' x18' outdoor rooms outfitted with a partial kitchen, small bistro table and chairs, sectional sofa, a television, two ceiling fans to circulate the hot and humid summer air, and an attached private bathroom with vanity, toilet and shower stall. There was a three-wall permanent enclosure and the front of the cabana could be tied off on either side like a shower curtain or it could be in the closed position where there was an actual front door. Nine times out of ten, people kept them open to enjoy the weather, our Olympic sized pool, the boardwalk, and of course, the beach. It was a really fantastic view and the people in the cabanas had it made.

Too bad some of them were so goddamn stuck up that it made them practically impossible to work for…practically impossible though, not totally. Like I said before, huge, HUGE amounts of cash were offered for being at their beck and call. And sometimes, you just can't say no.

I still can't believe that Swan showed up at the pub on Friday night. I haven't seen her in, what, five years maybe?

And what the hell is she even doing slumming it in Surf City? Granted, Ocean City wasn't ever the ultimate foundation of the upper crust, but I would have thought that now that the Flanders was out of business, they'd take their snooty asses down to Cape May, Stone Harbor, Avalon, hell even…ho- , oh my God what if her family discovered this island?

Fuck. Me.

Like, here but further north in Harvey Cedars or Loveladies? Crap.

Ugh. Please God do NOT make me have to deal with her more this summer. One random encounter this past weekend was plenty for me. Hell, the four years I spent being her family's cabana boy was plenty enough to last me well into the next century.

The Swan Family. Her dad Charles was okay, that much I remember. But her mother, Renee, and she were horrific. Such raging, snobby bitches...it was disgusting to witness. Isabella was stunning to look at, but that lost its luster almost instantly after she opened her mouth to speak in such a vile way to me, her friends, her mother, everyone. She was born with a silver fucking spoon in her mouth and she knew it. I watched her. I watched her all summer long through four long-ass summers. Ugh. Just remembering my time back then gets me aggravated as hell.

"Ehhhhhhhdwaaaaaaard! Ehhdwaaard, where are you? I need more towels! Helloooooooo?"

Good God, I can hear her all the way in this fucking stairwell. Kill me now, wouldja? She's been worse this summer, and I didn't think that was humanly possible since last summer, I thought her demon fucking head was going to spin right the hell around on top of her body and then spit out green vomit on my white board shorts. I can't believe it's only the middle of July. I don't think I'm gonna make it six more weeks. Fuck that. I don't think SHE'S gonna make it six more weeks 'cause I'm gonna strangle her perfect little princess neck right off her perfect little princess body.

"Jesus! Finally! Where the hell have you been?"

"Sorry, I had to run back in and restock the pavilion. It took me a few minutes to run up the stairs to housekeeping and then back down again," I huffed out my explanation through gasping breaths.

"Okay, whatever. I didn't ask you for a dissertation, I just needed a freaking towel. My suede bathing suit is going to get permanent water marks."

Bella's 'barely-there' suede bikini

HA! Permanent water marks. What-thefuck-ever. If she keeps waltzing around here looking like that she's gonna have permanent cum stains all over her. Every, and I mean EVERY single guy is falling all over himself to get a glimpse of her in the cabana today. And I know that if her parents were here this weekend, her father would have a fucking seizure at the skimpiness of her bathing suit. She's totally asking for it.

I mean, yeah, she's hot as hell. Chocolate brown hair that dangles to her shoulder blades, flawless skin that's been tanned to perfection in the past six weeks of summer sunbathing. Long delicate neck, graceful arms, impeccably sculpted tits, trim and toned stomach with the slightest feminine curves and long, thin legs that go on for fucking DAYS. It's painful to see just how spectacular she is…but to know her personality just completely undoes all the beauty for me.

Some guys couldn't care less about her personality. I've heard them talking. If they can get close enough to her for a hookup, what she says doesn't mean shit to them. But I can't be that way. I never have been, and I don't think I ever will be able to overlook a vicious personality. Even if it is in lieu of a fantastic body that screams the ability to dole out unhinging orgasms that last for days and days until you can't remember your name.

I suppose I sound bitter. I can't help it. Rejection will do that to a guy. Not even rejection…more like ungrateful bitchiness that boggles the mind!

"ARGH!" I scream at the top of my lungs.

Why am I even giving this girl a second thought? This shit happened years ago and I vowed I would never let myself think about her again. She made herself abundantly clear that final summer that I was nothing more than a peon to her.

Even after helping her, Christ, SAVING her that one night…the look she gave me was hollow, completely indifferent. As if my existence really didn't matter at all to her.

I thought I let this go years ago, but seeing her the other night has brought back all these ridiculous memories. I'm trying like hell to shake them, but her face on Friday night seemed so confused. The fact that she didn't remember me lines up with the personality she always had back then. She was so self-involved that she never, EVER cared to look out from her perfect princess world. She interacted with her parents, her friends du jour, and that was about it. Any of the staff at the hotel, me included, were superfluous beings that she had no interest in unless they served a purpose for her.

But this time, this time it was a different look in her eyes. Completely out of character for who she was all those years ago. Back then, she wouldn't have even looked up from her menu or her conversation to place her order. On Friday, however, there was something in her eyes that exuded a quiet temperament, a self-conscious demeanor and an innocence that I couldn't even associate with the girl I had known all those years ago. It was almost as if I detected some hope in her confusion. Like she was desperate for me to elaborate on how I knew her and why I knew that when she wasn't drinking alcohol, her drink of choice was a Shirley Temple with three extra cherries. To say that she was stunned into silence is putting it mildly. Again, the old Isabella Swan would have never stayed quiet. She would have been right there with a snarky, bitchy comment about how I was probably stalking her or pining away for her and that's how I knew her drink order.

"ARGHHHH!"

Why the FUCK do I even care?

I don't!

I don't care that I was basically her servant for four years.

I don't care that I saved her that night and she gaffed me off like she would've been fine without me.

I don't care that she showed up in my pub out of the blue this past Friday night looking better than the day I last saw her.

I don't care that she didn't remember me again and I definitely don't care that my four-year-long unrequited crush on her which has been off the grid for almost five years suddenly feels like it only ended about forty-five minutes ago.

And I certainly don't care that when I was talking to my fianceé on the phone a few minutes ago, a certain brunette in a certain suede bathing suit unwelcomely crossed my mind more than once.

I really, REALLY don't fucking care.

But I sorta think I do.

"ARGHHHHHHHHH!"

Chapter Two

                                                                                                                          ~Baby Steps~

BPOV

"Oh my word, oh, oh, she's waking up. Somebody get the doctor in here!"

"Bee…Sweet Bee… can you hear my voice, love?"

"Sweet Bee, can you squeeze my hand? Squeeze my hand if you can hear my voice, Bee."

I can hear you. I can feel my hand in your hand. I'm squeezing. Wait, am I squeezing? I don't know if it's—

"Doctor! Isabella's awake and she's following my directions…sort of! Her eyelids are fluttering and she's wiggling her fingers in my hand after I asked her to squeeze. That's a good sign, right? You said she might not be able to do anything when she woke up! But she's doing stuff! Isn't this great news? It's great, right?"

Hang on, sort of? Of course I can squeeze your hand, why wouldn't I be able to do that?

Bella's home in Loveladies, NJ

The piercing beep of the alarm startles me out of yet another foggy dream that yields no new answers. Three Shirley Temples, in bed by midnight, and yet I still feel like I've been hit by a steamroller.

I have no legitimate reason to be tired except for what I assume is depression. Something I do remember clearly from my childhood. Always wanting to pull the covers over my head and sleep if things didn't go my way. And let's face it…they almost always went my way. I don't ever remember being denied as a child. My dad worked very hard to give Mom and me the life that we had. I miss him. I miss my Dad so much. I can't say the same about my mom. It's harder for me to remember her. I know she was there for my childhood, but I remember spending more time with the housekeeper than I did with my mom. She always had shopping trips and spa weekends planned. Naturally, they never included me. She had her clique of friends and that was enough for her. I think she loved my Dad. I know he loved her. But he was my hero. That much I can definitely remember.

It gets harder to recall things from my teen years; things get fuzzy after middle school. I suppose that's why I'm here now. Aunt Didi meant for me to come home to the shore. Come home to her house where I spent many childhood summers; she lived here year-round until she was needed in Moorestown for me. She spoke to me about moving back to Loveladies once she was finally gone. We had time to work through a few of those details, at least. No reason for one person to have two humongous houses. Who am I, Rockefeller? I'm already lonely enough. I don't need an additional 20,000 square feet to remind me of my situation.

Ugh, no reason to wallow at this early hour. Rose and Emmett will be here soon to help me organize a bit and start turning this house into more of a living space and less of a museum. No offense to Aunt Didi, but I won't be able to live like this. She was such an artsy-fartsy lady and kept things immaculately clean. If the floor doesn't have white carpeting, the room is outfitted in white furniture. I can't even be trusted with a toothbrush because I inevitably splatter spit bubbles all over my shirt. How would I ever thrive in a house like this? Unless I stay alive by drinking only water and eating white Wonder Bread while standing over the kitchen sink, I'm doomed.

I'm a spiller. I spill and splatter and fall and trip and have no grace or depth perception whatsoever. Hence, the carpeting and furniture are going to be the first things to go.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. At this point, I just need help taking down all of the sheets that cover every major piece of furniture and artwork on all three floors of this amazing home.

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

"Hey girl! The cavalry has arrived! Nice digs, by the way!"

I have to laugh. Emmett is standing on the front porch looking like Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor. Tool belt in place on his hips and Rose rolling her eyes and shaking her head behind him, they wander in and make themselves comfy in what is now my new home.

"Thanks guys. I'm pretty sure that's all you're going to hear me say for a while, so I'm hoping it doesn't lose its luster for you. But I'd seriously be up a creek if I didn't have you two to help me."

"Bells, it's all good. That's what we're here for. We're your family now. Whatever you need, okay?"

I sigh through a smile, always relieved to hear him say that. "Okay. Thanks."

"You got it. Now what's the deal? Where do we start?"

"Well, let me give you the guided tour so you know the layout. Leave a trail of breadcrumbs if you need to, I'll understand. It's a little on the outrageous side," I joke, but in all honesty, this house could seriously benefit from those information kiosks they have in the malls with the floor plan of the building and the red dot saying, 'You are here'.

 

Emmett & Rosalie McCarty

As I lead Emmett and Rose from room to room, they grow silent; just breathy gasps heard every now and then and of course I know why. It's this house. One person never needs this much space. I don't know why Aunt Didi ever stayed on here after Uncle Marcus passed away. High society mentality, I suppose. They were always surrounded by the upper crust. She continued to host events and galas in support of the charities and causes she loved so dearly. She never truly cared about wealth for herself, but she cared that she could help others with it, so that's what she did. It was who she was. I wish I could've had more time with her.

"So yeah, anyway, I know that it's a lot to take in, but once –"

Emmett cut me off. "Bella. This place is gargantuan. I don't know what you're going to do with it all, but until you figure it out, we'll have one helluva summer partying like P-Diddy in the Hamptons, fo shizzle!"

I look over at Rose who's shaking her head. "Emmett? Who the hell says 'fo shizzle'?" He starts to tell her but she holds her hand up. "Know what? I don't even want to know. I just ask that you don't say it around me anymore…you sound insane, babe."

Ahhh Rose. Ever the prim and proper lady. Nobody "fo shizzles" around her and gets away with it.

Emmett just cracks up silently, he's forever pressing his wife's buttons.

"Anyway, I guess I just want us to take down all the sheets and make the house look sort of lived in, at this point. I also would love for all of the windows to be opened up to let some fresh air swoop in and filter out the stale. The next step is to call in a cleaning service because there's no way I'm gonna clean this place from top to bottom on my own. "

Ten minutes later, we make it back in one piece and wander into the kitchen to lay out a game plan.

"So, are you going to redecorate before or after the memorial service"? Rose asks as she helps herself to three bottles of water and tosses one to each of us.

"After, definitely after. I want to get this memorial planned and executed so that I can start fresh once it is over. Does that sound harsh?"

"Nope, not at all. Makes sense to spiffy the house up, have the memorial service, and then start turning this place into your home, not just somebody else's place that was willed to you."

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

Ninety minutes later, we're sitting around the kitchen island eating lunch that I ordered from the closest restaurant that delivers to Loveladies this early in the day.

"Ugh. This pizza tastes like crap." Emmett throws his half-eaten slice back onto his plate. "No offense, Bells. What a waste of calories."

"Oh stop, Em, it does not. You're just excited that it's summer and you're not eating Mack and Manco," Rose scolds.

"Am I supposed to know what Mack and Manco means?" I question.

Emmett clutches his heart as if my words have caused palpitations.

"Bells. Mack and Manco is the best, THE BEST pizza around. Granted, it's down in Ocean City which is like an hour away, but it's summertime and it's tradition."

"Well this seemed edible enough," I hedge, knowing I'm treading on thin ice when debating with Emmett about food quality and, more specifically, pizza standards.

"Edible, but just barely. Bells, seriously, Mack and Manco will change your life. Mmmph. Thin crust, lots of sauce that shoots out of a tube, cheesy goodness. It's a summer staple. That and Kohr Brother's ice cream. Don't worry…we'll make a day of it soon…you, me and Rosie. We can head down there for an afternoon and evening of mini-golf and walking the boards. Rosie and I do it at least a few times a month over the summer. We eat our way from one end of the boardwalk to the other. There's nothing like it, nothing."

"Sauce that shoots out of a tube, huh? Sounds classy!"

"Trust me, Bella. It'll change your life. In fact…we're totally going next week. When are you available?"

Is he serious with this? I live alone in a beach mansion. The only people I'm remotely close with are either in this room or in a hospital and rehab center in Camden. My dance card is severely lacking these days.

"Emmett, how about you tell me when we're going. I have to meet with the caterer to start planning for the memorial service. Oh, and I have to return two phone calls to Sotheby's and Christie's…those are my plans. FOR. THE. WEEK. Pretty hectic, as you can see." I punctuate my sarcasm with a roll of the eyes, which causes him to leap across the table and smother me with a hug.

"Aww, Bells…it's all good! Ocean City makes everyone feel better…way better than spending your week talking to stuffy auctioneers, that's for sure!"

I laugh. "They aren't the actual auctioneers who I have to speak with, just their specialist's assistants, I believe. As soon as Aunt Didi's obituary hit the New York Times, my phone started ringing off the hook." I'm actually very much looking forward to moving along with an auction. I'm certainly not in it for the money, well at least not for me. I'm anxious to continue to help the charities that Aunt Didyme championed and give them the profits from whatever her art, furniture, and jewelry earns at auction. That alone will help me to feel like I've accomplished something after feeling so stagnant for the last three plus years.

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

"So where did you hear of this place again?"

"Alice gave Emmett the name. It's owned and run by Jasper's roommate from undergrad. They don't get to see each other very often because of Jazz's crazy hours at the hospital, but they're like best friends, I think," Rose explains.

"Okay, sounds fine by me. It certainly helps when people know people...considering I don't know anybody. And even if I do know them, I can't remember them, ha!" I give her my best sarcastic and toothy grin.

"Bella—"

"I know, I know. Stop the self-deprecating humor."

"Self-deprecating humor I can handle. It's the fact that you have no mercy on yourself whatsoever. You allow no room for error, no leeway at all. How're you ever going to adjust or make any progress if you're so damn hard on yourself all the time?"

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I'll relax. Rome wasn't built in a day, right? That is the saying, isn't it? I can't remember."

Now she's laughing. "Yeah, that's the saying, you goober."

Way to deflect, Bella. Score one for you.

"Well it's a clever name anyway, The Four Seas. Cullenary Cuisines, Confections & Catering. Oh my gosh! Get it? Four letter 'C's? Oh, and his last name is Cullen! And he spelled culinary with his name instead of the actual spelling! Ha! This guy's a trip!"

Rose chuckles, "Yeah, I get it. That is tricky. Ya gotta have a gimmick, right?"

"And we're meeting with the owner?"

"Yup. Noon appointment with Edward Cullen…aaand here we are! That was easy enough!" Rose sings as we slow to a stop.

We pull up in front of a beautiful Victorian home on a corner piece of property on the bay in 

Four Seas Bed & Breakfast

Ship Bottom. Three floors, pale yellow with white shutters and a fantastic white porch that looks like it wraps around the entire house. Window boxes bursting with color under each window. Lush red potted geraniums hang every three feet from the porch's ceiling. There are a couple of rocking chairs to the left of the front door and a porch swing on the right. I love the look of a porch swing. It just seems so welcoming and gives off a loving family vibe.

It makes me dream about a future someday; a future with a man by my side pushing us while we sit, using his foot as our motor. Drinking a cup of tea at the end of the night, at the end of a weekend where we just hosted our children and grandchildren for a visit. This is what I dream of in between the silence and vast crevasses of nothingness. I try for these dreams as best I can. Hands down, they eclipse the memories of waking up to beeping machines and shouts of confusion and elation by nurses and my aunt.

These dreams, however, come at a cost. A double-edged sword, really. Dreams of happiness with a man and our future family, yet here I am with no family to speak of at all. No mom to share secrets with after a first date. No dad to stand disapprovingly behind me at the front door as my date comes to pick me up. They're gone. They've been gone for over three years. Aunt Didi was my link, but now that I've lost her, I'll have no one to stand in those roles, to fill those shoes.

It makes me sad. Really sad. Again with the pity party.

Enough. Enough for now. Let's go choose some butlered hors d'oeuvres and petit fours.

Rosalie comes around the car, grabs my hand, and gives it a squeeze as we prepare to make plans for the final goodbye for Didyme Swan Harrington.

Rose knocks with fervor on the front door, but we get no answer. She goes to rap at the knocker a second time, and the door swings wide as we both plaster cheesy smiles on our faces.

A very good looking guy is standing there with a welcoming smile on his face. He's got sandy brown hair, cut close to his head, crystal blue eyes, and a phenomenal tan. Clearly this guy enjoys his time on the beach.

"Hi, we have a noon appointment with a Mr. Edward Cullen." Rose pipes up.

"Sorry ladies, the man of the house isn't here right now. I'm Edward's brother James, co-owner of Four Seas. Pleasure to meet you both."  His smile widens even more. "Which one of you is the lovely Ms. King?"


James Cullen

I step forward with my right hand outstretched.

"Hi James, it's nice to meet you too, please call me Bella; this is my girlfriend, Rose."

Rose offers a genuine smile and her hand.  

"Please come on in and we can get started. I'm sorry Edward isn't here right now. He was supposed to take care of your appointment, but there was an emergency down at the restaurant and they needed a manager there pronto. He drew the short straw, so he's there with a leaky toilet and I'm here with you two gorgeous girls."

I chuckle, embarrassed at this guy's flattery. He seems to be laying it on a little thick, but then again, I have no basis of judgment. So instead, I just feel the heat rise in my cheeks and look down at the ground, suddenly fascinated with my peep-toe sandals.

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

"Well, Bella, I think we have a very good idea of what you are looking for. I'll go over the menu with Edward when I see him and we should be fine for the tasting that we have set up for next week. Do you have any other questions?"

"Nope, nothing I can think of. Rose, do you think we've covered all the bases with regard to food and service?"

"Yeah, I think we're fine. Thanks for your time, James."

We stand to exit and James comes around and quickly pulls my chair out for me. I glance to the side and see Rose smile to herself, which of course causes me to roll my eyes.

"No, thank you ladies. It's been a pleasure. I'll be sure to follow up once I speak with Edward."

We make our way out the front door as James continues.

"Have a good afternoon, Rosalie…Bella." James offers a nod and asmile that seems genuine and heartfelt, again bringing my blush to the surface. Clearly I need to spend more time around the available members of the opposite sex. I'm blushing left and right.

This can't be normal. I spend most of my free time with Emmett who's married to Rose. Before that, it was doctors, nurses, and therapists of every specialty. I certainly never thought of any of them as being potential suitors. Now I'm pinking up for a guy who just threw a simple smile my way.

Relax, Bella, he hasn't popped the question yet. You might want to slow it down juuuuust a smidge.

As Rosalie gets in the car and stretches to unlock the door for me, I glance over the roof at the front porch where James is standing and staring at me with a kind and thoughtful look on his face and sincerity in his eyes. I give him a final wave and he returns the gesture.

"Well, he was very sweet and VERY cute, too."

And here we go.

"Yes, Rose, he was very sweet and very cute, too. Back off, please."

"Belllllaaaaaa! Give it a try! You have to put yourself out there sometime, you know!"

"Rose, please. I have so much on my mind. Just let me get through the memorial and the auctions and then you can start singing 'Summer lovin' from "Grease", I seriously don't have the time."

I don't want to admit it out loud, but James is cute. Handsome, really. He's taller than I am, not a giant but a little over six feet tall, I'm guessing. I also noticed he has fantastic-looking arms. Well-toned probably from all of the catering trays he has to carry and the constant slicing of meats and veggies.

Yeah Bella, cause slicing meats and vegetables with a knife gives you a great workout…God, I'm such a spaz.

Yes, he's attractive and my stomach starts to get a little twisty when I think of him in that way. But who am I kidding? I haven't been with anyone in over three years and I don't even remember who I was with or even what I did prior to then. I'm probably a virgin for all I know. I wonder if they have a test for that. A virginity test? I should ask Alice when she comes down next week. Even if I'm not a virgin, I'm almost certain that I have some cobwebs down there. It's like the land that time forgot. Who would have given me the time of day back then? Me and my scarred knobby knees and perpetual tendency to fall down on dry land simply by trying to walk from here to there. Ugh. I don't know. I hate not knowing. I feel so damn helpless without my memory of the years before the accident.

"Bella? Earth to Bella! Are you still with me?" Rose is snapping her fingers in front of my face.

I bat them away with a smirk. "Yes, I hear you. Sorry I zoned out there for a minute."

"No biggie. So listen, you should totally ask James out!"

"What? No. Are you crazy? I can't do that!" Can I?

Rose blows out an exasperated breath. "Yes, Bella, you can do this. You need to do this. What's the harm? You call him up. You ask him out for coffee or lunch one day. I really think you should do it. He was clearly flirting with you. It's time to take a leap from the nest, honey."

I shake my head and sigh as I look out the window at all the shops along Long Beach Boulevard. With the arrival of this past weekend, the summer season is officially off and running. There are families everywhere walking up and down the main drag. Dads carrying coolers and beach umbrellas. Moms with beach bags holding the hands of their little ones who are covered in sand from head to toe and looking like they just had the time of their life on the beach that day.

I want that. I want a chance at that. I deserve it, don't I?

I sigh once more and purse my lips knowing what I have to do to kick-start my life into high gear.

"Okay, Rose. You win. I'm calling James for a date when I get home."

Chapter One

~Memorial Day Weekend~

BPOV

"So you'll you make it tomorrow, Bells?"

Welcome to Long Beach Island, New Jersey

"Yeah, just let me know when you get into town and I'll head down that way. It's too depressing to be around here anyway." The silence is deafening. I have enough silence to deal with in my head and I don't need any more.

"Okay. Well on paper the trip takes about 35 minutes, but it's Memorial Day Weekend, God help us…soooo, with traffic hopefully we'll be there by 7pm. The pub's name is Last Call. It's attached to the Surf City Hotel; we'll meet you there."

"Sounds good. See you tomorrow night, Em. Give Roe a hug for me."

"Will do. 'Night girl".

I flop back onto Aunt Didi's, well my, bed. I don't even know where to begin. After everything that's happened these last three plus years… She was all I had and she's gone now.

Get used to it, kid, you've never been more on your own than you are right now.

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

"Bells! Hey Bella, over here!" 

Rose's arms are flailing above her head as she catches my eye. I give her a nod and a smile while I politely elbow my way through the impossible crowd. It's a Friday night at the shore. Let me rephrase, it's the Friday night of Memorial Day Weekend at a bar on Long Beach Island, NJ. If there's ever a time for elbow-throwing, tonight's the night.

Bella King

"Hey sweetie! We've missed you. How're you doing?" I get the big, squeezy hug and then her head cocks to the side. You know, the move that happens when someone is concerned and wants to know if you have any clue how to function at this point? I'm a sad case, I know this. But I'm doing the best I can to get out of bed every morning and pull some kind of an existence together.

My aunt would have wanted that. I'm sure my entire family would have wanted that too, but they're not here to help me along any more than Aunt Didi is.

"I'm okay. I'll be okay, I guess. Don't have much of a choice, do I?"

Rose guards her words. "No, I guess you don't. But you do have us, okay? Please remember that. We're right down the road from you all summer long. We'll help you find your way, deal?"

"I know, Roe. I know you will…and thanks." Time to change the subject. I'm in no mood to host my pity party tonight, I can save that for tomorrow when the sun rises again of which I'm certain it will, damn it. It has risen every day just to spite me. Lord knows it's not going to stop now.



Last Call Bar & Grill attached to the Surf City Hotel

"So where's Em and what's good here?" I ask, picking up my menu.

"The neighbor grabbed him in the driveway as we were leaving, so he sent me down the block to meet you. He'll be here shortly. As for this place, I have no idea…the hotel changed owners a couple years back, I think. I used to come here to Ship Bottom every summer with my parents when I was growing up. My girlfriends and I would hang out at this bar once we hit the age where we could get away with it. They always had the cutest bartenders. I'm pretty sure it was a prerequisite to be a hottie in order to work here. And ooooh, I see that hasn't changed much! Yum!"

Rose's eyes get wide and she wiggles her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. I glance to my left as a server approaches to take our order.

"Hi ladies. What can I get for you?"

Rose starts. "I'll just have a dirty martini with two olives. Bells, what do you want?"

"Um. I think I'm gonna save the drinking for another night so I can get back home in one piece. Could I just have a -"

Bella's go-to beverage, Shirley Temple with three extra cherries

"Shirley Temple with three extra cherries?" says the waiter nonchalantly. 

My forehead wrinkles in confusion and astonished silence for a minute.

Huh? What just happened here?

My mouth opens and closes a few times before sound actually comes out.

"How- how did you know I was going to order that?"

"I have a photographic memory. I recognized you as soon as you walked in," he says, tapping his temple.

I hesitate, but curiosity wins.

"Yeah, but…h-have we met before? I'm sorry. I don't remember your face."

"Sooo not surprised by that," I hear him mutter.

Ouch. Okay.

"What?" 

"Nothing, nothing at all. Sorry. So, a dirty martini and a Shirley Temple coming up?"

"Yes, please," Rose replies with a smile and a wink and then stares at me questioningly.

"You got it. Be back in a minute." The hottie, as Rose referred to him, turns on his heels and suavely makes his way through the crowd back to the bar.

"Holy shit, Bells, do you know him?" she points with her thumb.

"Jesus, Roe, if I knew him I wouldn't have asked if I knew him! He doesn't even remotely ring any bells though, so I guess not."

"Well dang, you should LET him ring your bell, girl. And he obviously knows you," she snorts.

"Yeah, but I'm not blind. He certainly wasn't thrilled with our little reunion. I have no clue. Just another fucking question mark in my already puzzling existence. Step right up and check out Isabella King, the enigma wrapped in a mystery. Figure her out and you win a prize!" I roll my eyes at my own attitude. "I should be a sideshow at the damn circus, I swear."

"Bells, stop. Life down here is brand new. I'm so sorry that Didyme is gone. She was here for you and now she's gone and you're alone and trying to fill in the blanks and figure it all out yourself. It really sucks, I get it. But I'm here to help. So is Emmett. We'll figure it out. I promise, okay?"

I raise my eyebrows, resigned that I won't win this battle with her. "Okay, if you say so. I'm gonna run to the ladies room." I can't hop off the stool fast enough.

God, get me out of this place. I've been here for ten minutes and I'm eager to make my escape already.

Like I said…I'm a sad case.

EPOV

"Here you go. Anything else I can get for you right now?"

"Umm, actually? I just have a quick question. My girlfriend is in the restroom right now, but I was wondering, did you used to know her? Hang out? Date?"

"Who? Isabella? Hell no! I have a pretty liberal checklist on who I spend time with but kindness to other human beings falls into those standards. She was a raging, selfish bitch from the instant I met her until the blessed moment I didn't have to see her face anymore. Does that answer your question?"

Good God. I can't believe I just said all of that. Old feelings stirring up, I suppose.

What cosmic force did I piss off this time that it possibly warranted her reemergence into my life?

The blonde friend looks flabbergasted after listening to me spew hatred about her shrew of a friend. She says nothing in response to stifle my bitter diatribe, so I go on.

"Listen, I'm your bartender here and will happily take care of your drink orders for the night. But honestly, there's not one shred of decency in your little friend back there. At least there wasn't when I knew her. And I really don't care to revisit those days, ok? Life's too short, y'know? My name is Edward. Let me know if I can get you anything else."

And with that, I walk away. Screw the tip. With any luck, I won't ever have to see Isabella Swan step foot in this bar again.

Prologue

~Prologue~

"What a night, huh?"
 

"Yeah… you could say that."
 

"I can't imagine what that poor girl is going to go through. Happiest day of your life and by the end of the night your mom and husband are dead? Ugh. How is she?"
 

"We're going to have to watch her carefully. It's a hurry up and wait situation now. She was a seven on the Glasgow and her CT scan indicated profound swelling. The MRI is ordered and that'll help determine what happens next, but she's lost consciousness. It doesn't look great, that's for sure. "
 

Cooper Trauma Center, Camden, New Jersey

"Is the dad out of surgery yet?"
 

"Not that I know of. He barely made it upstairs; we lost a rhythm twice while we were trying to stabilize him."
 

"The police were still questioning the limo driver last I saw him. I heard him say that he only remembers losing control on the sheet of ice that 95 North turned into after the Chester exit. After that, the meds started to kick in and he was on his way to passing out, so the cops left him alone."
 

"With the extent of injuries we just saw, I can't imagine that anyone is going to be answering questions anytime soon. And that's if any of them live to tell about it."
 

"That's just awful. Well, I'm gonna go get a cup of coffee across the street…can I get you something while I'm over there?"
 

"No, I'm getting ready to take off; looking forward to being able to wake up next to the wifey and little man tomorrow morning."

 

"Of course. Well, drive home safely. If there was ever a night to avoid these icy roads, it's tonight. Take care, Jasper, and if I don't see you before you leave, enjoy your time off with Alice and Tristan."

 

"You too, Jess. Merry Christmas."