Toe In The Sand

This fic was originally posted on FFN but as of 05.28.12 was pulled because of their bullshit/outdated guidelines. I wanted to make sure that it was posted elsewhere.

Disclaimer: It is with a heavy heart that I admit that the exclusive rights to Twilight aren't mine, nor will they ever be.

~Thanks to vampiremama for beta’ing this beast and louisabecks for pre-reading and helping me make it smuttier.

**~0~**

Do you remember your Christmas wishes from when you were a little girl your? There was something about being young and naïve to the world around us that made us wish for material things.

During the early part of my life my wishes were like everybody else’s: a new dolly, a pony, or that special toy of the season.

But as I grew older, my wishes changed, and I finally found myself wishing to be in love.

It wasn’t exactly a traditional Christmas wish. But watching my parent’s relationship as I grew up, seeing how happy they were with each other, made me want that kind of love for myself.

On Christmas mornings, as I would open presents, my parents would snuggle together on the couch drinking their coffees together; my father would lean over and whisper something in my mom’s ear, causing her to blush before giving her a kiss on the cheek.

One particular Christmas, I remember a special present that my dad gave my mom. It was a weeklong cruise for the whole family. My mother couldn’t stop kissing my father and when it seemed as if they were never coming up for air, I left the room.

My parents weren’t perfect, but the fights they had never were a breaking point or a problem that couldn’t be resolved. They loved each other unconditionally, and the faith they had in each other was never-ending.

So I wished for love. It didn’t happen by Santa bringing a gift-wrapped boy down the chimney, but from years of dating, being hurt, and kissing tons of frogs to find a prince.

Once I had love, and a family, I got something I didn’t expect. Something I didn’t wish for.

Becoming a widow at age 33.

Paul and I had met in college, where I was attending school for dance, and Paul was an accounting major. We started out as friends, and after six months of flirting and Paul being persistent in asking me out, I said yes.

We were complete opposites, but we somehow we found ourselves around each other due to some mutual friends. Friends lead to a relationship, which led to a serious relationship and talks of a future together.

A year after we graduated, we married. And a year after that, we had our first child.

We lead a happy life. Paul opened his own accounting firm and with his savvy money skills we were able to open my own dance studio within a few years.

Paul was sweet and very loving. He would bring me lunch to the studio on Saturday’s when I worked all day. We would snuggle together under a blanket on the back porch, whispering words of love to each other.

When we made love to create life, he was so tender, as if the act of joining our bodies together was the most precious thing in the world.

You could say that we were boring, but we were happy. So who cared what anyone else thought?  Nothing exciting ever happened in our lives, we didn’t seem to have the drama that some of our other friends did, until one day I got a call right before leaving for work.

Paul was in a car accident, he died on impact.

Impact was a minor word as to what transpired that day.

Left with two kids to raise by myself and no hope left in my heart, I’d never wanted to wish for anything again; especially not for love.

Paul’s dying wasn’t like being hurt from a broken relationship from my past or a fight about absolute nonsense that Paul and I occasionally had.

It was pure pain, unlike anything that I could have ever imagined.

Again, another thing I never wished for.

After Paul died, I just couldn’t stay in the same house. There were too many memories of our life together, so I packed up our two kids and moved to the opposite end of town.

I chose a house on the beach; someplace that I could stare in the oblivion that is the never-ending ocean with my head and toes stuck in the sand.

Being numb is better than feeling the pain.

My life became work and focusing on my kids.

******TITS******

“Mom,” Seth calls me entering the house.

“Yeah, baby, I’m in the kitchen,” I respond.

Seth is my youngest, only 13 years old, but wiser in his years than I want to acknowledge. Having your father die at the tender age of eight is a sure fire way of growing up fast, whether you want to or not.

He walks into the kitchen, skin slightly flushed from what I can only assume is running from the bus stop down the street.

My heart skips a beat as I focus on him. He is the spitting image of his father; tan skin, jet black hair, strong jaw and deep brown eyes that make you feel like you are the only person in the word that they are looking at.

“Can I go to the movies tonight?” he asks.

“With who, what movie, what time, how much?”

“A group from school, yes, girls will be there, Monsters of the Dead, it’s PG-13, seven o’clock, ten dollars,” he fires back at me.

Gotta hand it to him, the kid has learned.

I fake pondering over his request. He’s a good kid, of course I’m going to let him go, but I like to keep him guessing.

“Ok, but I’ll drop you off and pick you up.”

He extends his hand to shake, “Deal.”

Seth heads off to his room while I finish putting dinner together. Soon my oldest comes stomping into the house, announcing her angry sullen-teenager presence.

Claire is 15. When I look at her, I see pieces of my mother, her auburn hair with soft waves, and the twinkle in her eye that says ‘trouble’.

“Claire,” I address her softly as she enters the kitchen.

Unlike her brother, Claire closed off a bit after Paul died. She didn’t rebel and break the law or anything. She was basically following my lead at the time and became numb.

She stomps wordlessly over the refrigerator and sticks her head in to search for something.

“Mom,” she moans. “Do we have any of that organic juice left?”

I roll my eyes at her question. Claire started on a serious health kick about six months ago. She insisted that I have organic foods in the house and tried her hardest to get Seth and myself to change to healthier eating habits.

What can I say? I like real sugar and red meat.

“In the back, behind the milk,” I inform her.

Once she has her juice, she pulls up a stool to the island and stares at me as she takes noisy sips.

“Do we have time to practice tonight?” she asks. Her voice has softened and her demeanor has smoothed.

Claire is a dancer like myself, but chose modern over ballet or ballroom. She has been trained in all the different forms, thanks to me, but her choosing modern allows her the emotional freedom to express herself that is harder to find in some of the firmer disciplines.

I’m just damn happy that she has a good outlet.

“I have to talk take Seth to the movies,” I start. She huffs at me before starting to open her mouth to protest. “But, we can head over to the studio and practice till it’s time to pick him up.”

She closes her mouth and gives me a smile. The smile wasn’t like one of her smiles that I used to receive before she became sulking teenager, but I was happy to receive it none-the-less.

She stomps off to her room and I go about setting the table.

The downstairs is quiet for the moment and after I’m done, I walk into the living room and sit down in the oversized chair, propping my feet up on the ottoman, waiting on the casserole to finish in the oven.

Our house on the beach is simple in design, and looks like almost every other house on the beach. Soft colors cover the outside, while a beach theme is felt throughout the interior.

The best thing is the back of the house, the part that faces the ocean. The living room covers the entire width of the house, with one entire wall covered in floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

If you were to stand in the room with all the lights off, you could look out at the ocean and become lost in the darkness only broken by the soft light of the moon and stars.

If you can’t tell, I spend a lot of time in this room with the lights off.

But for right now, there is only one thing lit in the room.

Our Christmas tree is in the center of the room, over four thousand lights on it this year, the brightness warming me.

When we moved here five years ago, I was still grieving over Paul. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. When my mother, Renee, suggested counseling I said no.

It wasn’t until Renee, along with my best friend Leah, Paul’s sister, met me at home one day after work. They planned an intervention and dragged me off for an appointment that I completely broke down

I was finally able to get through all of the stages of grief, and learned to deal with everything that I was trying to hide from.

In the end, I had come to the conclusion that love wouldn’t be a part of my life again. I couldn’t tell my heart to hope only to be crushed again.

That same year, we started our new tradition by putting our Christmas tree up right after Halloween. As a family, we would take time to wrap the tree with lights, each year giving it more and more.

By the time December first came around, we only had to sit back and enjoy the beauty of the tree.

I stare at the tree, the soft glow of the lights and the twinkling from the ornaments, reminding me of better days.

I sigh as I notice an ornament of the Golden Gate Bridge. Paul and I bought it on a trip we had made to San Francisco one weekend.

I shake my head, clearing the thoughts before making me cry.

After dinner, Claire and I drop Seth off and I tell him to call me if he needs us to come back sooner.

He smiles as he leans in between the front seats and kisses me on the cheek. Popping out of the car, I watch as he runs off to join his friends standing at the curb.

Claire and I wordlessly make our way through town, looking at the Christmas decorations that cover storefronts and hang from lampposts.

We pull into the parking lot and make our way inside ‘La Bella Ballerina’.

Claire is practicing for a competition after the first of the year. I helped her choreograph most of the routine, but she put the finishing touches on it.

The studio is quiet, and a warm feeling with the twinkle lights that line the top of the wall around the room. I flip on the main light illuminating the room, making the large maple floor look larger than it really is.

As with any dance studio, one solid wall is a giant mirror, split down the middle with a bar.

I drop my bag in front of the cabinet that houses the stereo and flip through the iPod to find her music.

When I turn to see if she is ready, I find her down to her yoga pants and tank top, stretching with her hair pulled back in a high ponytail.

I sigh as I watch her practice, each time I see her perform it’s like she is growing up before my eyes. She no longer has the baby flab from yesterday, but is starting to show major muscle definition that is common among serious dancers.

Her arms extend, giving her long lines and elegant movements.

A few hours later we pickup Seth and make our way back home. The kids are in their rooms, asleep when I find myself snuggled in my chair staring at the Christmas tree.

My mind starts to concentrate on how I can fit more lights on it. Thinking about anything else is pointless. As midnight approaches, I drag myself to bed, tomorrow being Saturday, and a full day of classes.

Sunday arrives and I find myself in the mall shopping for presents.

As I make my way through the gloves and scarves of a particular store, I reach to grab the last pair of navy blue suede gloves that I want to get for Leah this year.

At the same time, another set of hands reaches for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” a warm voice says.

I look up to see a man smiling at me. He is strikingly handsome with carved features and creamy skin. He seems older than me, but I wouldn’t begin to guess his age. He has golden blond hair and piercing blue eyes.

“I believe that this is the last pair,” I explain. “I can see if an associate can find some more.”

“No, I can find something else,” he smirks as he eyes me up and down.

I can’t help but blush. We both stare at each other in a silent but relaxed moment.

“Um, hi,” he stutters. “My name is Dr. Carlisle Cullen.” He extends his hand back offering to shake mine.

“Bella Swan,” I respond.

“Do you have any suggestions for a 22 year old female?” he cautiously asks.

I look at the table in front of us looking for a substitution for the gloves that he gave up.

Matching together a beautiful scarf and hat, I hand them to him.

He smiles, his long and masculine fingers touching the fabric. “This is perfect.”

“Well, it’s the least that I can do. I hope she will enjoy them.” I was about to say wife but then thought twice.

“Yes, my daughter will love these,” he offers.

“Oh, your daughter? How many children do you have?”

“Three, two boys and a girl.”

“Well, you must have tons of shopping to get done,” I offer as an out of our conversation.

“Actually, I’m in the need for a coffee break. Would you care to join me?” Carlisle asks.

After Paul died, and I got myself together after therapy, I did go on a few dates over the years, but nothing past one date and never any physical contact. I never wanted to give my date the wrong impression that I wanted more.

I enjoyed those few moments with Carlisle; the relaxed state of our conversation not something that I usually would find outside of family.

“Um, sure.”

Two hours later, and several cups of coffee later, we’d exchanged basic information about each other, ending with him asking for a date.

“Mom!” Claire yells from her room.

“In here!” I yell back.

Claire stomps through the house from her room into mine, finding me in my chair slipping on my shoes.

“What time, where are you going, how long will you be gone and when will you back?” she rattles off at me.

I smile, knowing that she is just giving me a taste of my own medicine. All these years of being protective about with whom and where my children are, it’s biting me in the ass a little.

“His name is Carlisle Cullen, seven, I don’t know where since he is coming to pick me up, and again, I don’t know how long other than to assume that it will only be for a few hours, and if you really need me, you can call my cell,” I shoot back at her.

I stand up, smooth out my wrap dress and take one last look in the mirror.

“Wow, mom!” Seth excitedly compliments me from my open doorway.

“Yeah, mom, you look great,” Claire adds.

“Thanks,” I respond smiling tenderly at both of them. It can’t be easy to see me go on a date. Paul is their father and there is no replacing that.

I kiss them and make my way downstairs for my date with Carlisle.

An hour later, I’m sitting in a nice restaurant with Carlisle. In the short time we have talked with each other, I’ve learned that he 50, a doctor working in his own practice. He has three children, 22 year old Alice who is finishing up college, 26 year old Edward who is an ER doctor and 28 year old Emmett who is high school gym teacher and engaged to be married.

In turn, Carlisle learns some things about me, that I am a widow, and details regarding my children.

We are having a pleasant evening when are interrupted by another patron.

“Dad?”

When I look away from Carlisle to see who is addressing him, I’m stunned.

There really isn’t any other way to put it.

Standing in front of our table is a younger version of Carlisle. But more.

Oh so much more.

He is like the angel on top of the Christmas tree that shames the rest of the ornaments. All you want to do is look at him, staring and loosing yourself in the beauty.

What’s worse, I want to reach out and touch him, but I’m not sure I’m allowed to reach that high.

“Edward,” Carlisle addresses him. Carlisle stands and they give each other a hug before they turn their attention to me.

“This is Bella Swan,” Carlisle motions to me. “Bella, this is my son Edward.”

Edward extends his hand, much the same fashion that his father did the other day in the store when we met.

He embraces my hand, warmth radiating from his smooth skin. The handshake is gentle yet firm, everything that you desire a handshake with a man to be. There is an energy that flows from him to my hand, causing me to jerk my hand back sooner than I would have liked.

“Nice to meet you,” he quietly says as he rubs his hand as if I had stung him.

Father and son talk for a minute before Edward gives his goodbyes and a ‘nice to meet you’.

Somehow I manage to focus back on Carlisle and complete the date. Carlisle drives me home, escorts me to the front door, parting with a gentle kiss on the cheek and a goodnight.

There are no promises of calling me tomorrow, which I am thankful for.

Claire is snuggled in my bed when I return, flipping through the channels, stopping only a few seconds on each one.

“How was your,” she pauses and gulps, “Date?”

“It was nice. Carlisle is very nice.”

Nice is how I describe Carlisle. However if you ask me to describe his son, UNF!

Three days go by, and Carlisle doesn’t call. I’m neither excited nor disappointed, just relieved, mainly because he’s not the one that I’ve been thinking about.

Edward.

Which is so wrong. So very, very wrong.

I mean, I’m twelve years older than him, and I have kids, and I’m a widow, and I’m plain, and I’m boring and I’m…… I stop my internal rant before I can move this to a pity-party-for-one session.

Just another benefit from therapy.

So I continue on with my life, work and the kids. We have three weeks left till Christmas and there is more shopping to do, parties to attend and time to spend with family.

But no matter how hard I try thoughts of Edward creep into my head.

And it doesn’t help that I keep running into him.

At the grocery store.

Driving by each other in town.

In the mall.

He’s very polite each time, waving or saying hi. Nothing more than a generic greeting.

Never touching.

Part of me wonders why we keep running into each other. Could it be fate? But if it’s fate, why did she pick someone twelve years younger than me?

One thing bothers me is the twinkle in his eye and the cocked smile on his face when he sees me.

I wonder what must be going on in his head.

Friday arrives, and it’s my short day at the studio. A ‘mommy and me’ dance class in the morning followed by paperwork and then shutting down early. With Saturday being a full day from morning till night, this is a welcomed treat every week.

It’s just after lunch and I’m sitting in my office, looking at the layouts for my new website. The company that I’ve hired sent me five designs to start with.

My cell phone rings and I look to see Seth’s school on the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Swan, this is Ms. Cope at Northside Middle. There’s been an accident and we have to send Seth to the emergency room.”

“What!”

“The ambulance has just arrived and everything moved so fast that we just now got to call you. He should be leaving any minute for the hospital.”

“Oh my God. What happened?”

Ms. Cope briefly tells me that during gym class, Seth was goofing off with another boy, wrestling when he fell the wrong way, breaking his arm.

I grip the desk, willing my body not to pass out. Even sitting down, I’m not sure I can handle hearing about my son being hurt.

“Can you leave now?” Ms. Cope asks.

“Um, yeah. Can you tell Seth that I’ll meet him there?”

“We will go tell him right now.”

Entering the ER doors, I make my way quickly to the nurse’s station and I’m led to where Seth is being treated.

The nurse opens the door for me, and my mind flashes to the night of the accident with Paul. I wasn’t with him, none of us were, but I had to go to the hospital and identify him.

It’s something I never would wish in a thousand years, for myself or for anyone else.

Seth is sitting up on the table, blood splattered on his shirt and his neck and face. My eyes move to his arm.

The view is blocked.

By Edward.

Just great.

“Seth,” I sigh and rush over to him. I inspect him, looking for any other signs of injury, the whole time, ignoring the man finishing casting my son’s arm. The same man that has recently infiltrated my thoughts.

“I’m just about done here, Ms. Swan,” Edward informs me professionally.

“Thank you, Dr. Cullen,” I reply.

Seth and I watch together as he finishes up. “Now, he’ll need to wear this for the next six to eight weeks.”

I look from the cast to Seth, blinking and thinking if there is anything that he will miss out during this healing period. Then I look back to Edward and my mind is working, wondering what Edward would look like under the soft glow of the lights on my Christmas tree.

“The nurse will give you care instructions, he needs to see his pediatrician in two weeks to check his progress,” Edward pauses, sighing to himself before continuing. “Do you have any questions, Ms. Swan?”

I shake my head a little, trying to knock the thoughts of Edward out of my head. “Please call me Bella,” I inform him. “Um, I’m not sure. I guess I can call if I have any.”

Edward nods, stands up pulling his gloves off and reaches out to shake Seth’s hand from his good arm.

“Thanks, Doc.”

“No problem.”

He turns to face me, and reaches the same hand to me. My natural instinct takes over and I place my hand in his to shake.

Shit.

Wrong, so wrong.

Wrong would be not to touch him again, or take him home, ride him for hours leaving him with tracks in his hair from my fingers.

Get the thoughts out of your head, Bella. He’s not jailbait but for heaven’s sake, he’s so young.

“Bella, could I speak with you for a moment out in the hall?”

Edward quirks an eyebrow at me, still holding onto my hand.

“Yeah,” I stumble at my words. “Sure.”

He releases my hand and leads me outside the room.

Once we are outside the closed door, he turns and stares at me, and I can see he is thinking.

About what, I only can imagine.

I didn’t pay attention before but now I have a chance to check Edward out from top to bottom. Edward is scrumptious in green scrubs. The short-sleeved top is a little too small, showing his arm muscle definition, making me want to touch him again.

Shit!

“Um, I really never do this, but my curiosity is getting the better of me right now. Guess that can happen after a 48 hour shift,” he rambles. He clears his throat as he begins again. “You would be free for coffee tomorrow?”

Holy mother of God. Is he asking me out on a date?

“I, I.” My words stumble from my mouth, apparently I have no brain function to properly tell him no. Because, fuck if my body isn’t screaming yes! “I don’t think that is such a good idea.”

“Why? Correct me if I’m wrong, but you only went on the one date with my father.”

“It’s not that,” I stop my explanation. The next words that will come out of my mouth are going to kill me. Oh, most definitely. “You’re just too young.”

His eyes widen, and for some reason, I blush.

I would have never made a good actress.

“You’re lying,” he whispers, leaning in.

I’m looking up at him; he’s close, so much closer than I ever thought I would get to his luscious pink plump lips.

My tongue sneaks out and licks my own.

Edward growls.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” I steel my decision and take a step back.

He smirks at me, cocks his head to one side and turns. “We’ll see about that,” he says as he walks off down the hallway.

I turn to enter the room when I hear my name being called from the other end of the hallway.

“Bella?”

I turn to see Emily, one of Paul’s cousins. Her son Jake is in the same class with Seth.

“Emily, hi.”

“I just started my shift and heard about Seth. Is he okay?” Emily is a nurse in the labor and delivery.

“Yeah, Dr. Cullen just finished putting his cast on.”

“Dr. Cullen?” she whispers.

“Yeah. Why, are you whispering?”

“Oh, my, God. The nurses around here are going crazy for him. He just moved here, he’s single and well, you’ve seen him.”

I hold my tongue and nod my head, there’s no way to trust my voice to say yes without swooning.

Emily follows me into the room and hugs Seth letting him know that Jacob will be helping in out in school if he needs anything.

That night, after the kids are in bed, and I’ve checked on Seth for the hundredth time, I settle in my chair in front of our ‘lit to God’ Christmas tree.

The warm glow is soothing and my thoughts go back to Edward. Emily’s words replay in my head, there are tons of women in this town for Edward. It should be obvious our age difference.

I still can’t believe that he asked me out.

Me.

And I turned him down.

Idiot.

The end of next week arrives and we find ourselves back at the hospital, but not for injury. The hospital has an annual tradition of pictures with Santa with an exchange of an unwrapped toy for their children’s wing. Claire and Seth carry the bags of toys and coloring books that I’ve bought and grumble as they make their way into the hospital. There are tons of kids here, lots of the hospital staff and for some reason, a good deal of the nurses.

Come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing this many last year.

Hmm, must be a good Santa this year.

I spot Emily who is helping collect the toys. “Here you go.” I motion for Claire and Seth to hand the bags to Emily. After which she grabs them both up for hugs and ‘oh, my God, look how big you are getting’ pinches. I never understand why she says this when we see her at least every two weeks.

Claire and Seth play with some of the terminally ill kids while Emily and I chat watching everyone enjoying Santa.

As I survey the room again, I notice the oddest thing. In the line for pictures with Santa are nurses, almost all of them that are in the room.

“What’s up with the…” my words trail off motioning to the line of bouncing scrubs.

“Well,” she quietly starts. “Our normal Santa came in to prepare and ended up falling on the floor in the lobby, throwing his back out. We have him up in a private room on some really good drugs. So at the last minute, we had to scour the hospital to see if there were any men to fill in.”

“So who is it?” I turn my attention to Santa.

“Dr. Edward Cullen,” Emily purrs. “You know, the same Dr. Cullen that casted Seth’s arm?”

“Yeah, I remember him.” My eyes move and find Santa.

Sure enough, it’s Edward sitting in a winged chair, Christmas tree behind him and presents at his feet. He looks slightly silly, red suit too big for him, but you can tell that he has at least one if not two pillows underneath trying to make him ‘jolly’.

He’s wearing a fake beard, but his pearly smile beams thru, as does some of his hair from underneath the white wig.

He looks, perfect.

Oh shit!

Emily and I continue to talk and watch the parade of nurses sitting on Edward’s lap, each one flirting shamelessly.

As the crowd of nurses dies down, I tell Claire and Seth to make their way into the line. I don’t expect them to sit on his lap, or even tell him what they want for Christmas, but I do expect them to pose for a picture.

Plus, then I’ll have a picture of Edward.

Oh my, God. I’m in such trouble.

I stay back, readying my camera, as Seth and Claire get closer.

Once they are there, they speak to Edward then stand behind him, giving me their one of five good smiles and poses that I request from them per year.

I raise my camera; take a few shots before turning it off and putting back in my purse.

“Mom!” Seth calls.

I look up and see Seth motioning me over to him.

I take a deep breath.

“Mom, Santa wanted you to tell him what you want for Christmas,” Claire giggles.

“I’m a little old for sitting on Santa’s lap,” I explain to them.

“Nonsense!” Edward’s deep voice flirts with me.

He grabs my arm and pulls me down in his lap.

And then, I feel it. Yes, Edward’s hard on.

Fuck. My. Age.

“Now, tell Santa what you would like for Christmas, little girl.” Edward almost whispers the last part.

“Um,” I mumble. “Another Christmas tree?” It’s the first thing that comes to my mind. I’ve always wanted to put a tree on the end of the walkway out to the beach from the house.

“Another Christmas tree?” he says in his normal voice.

“Yeah, for the beach,” Claire explains.

“Oh,” Edward says. I don’t think he completely gets it, but he acts like he does.

I try to get up, but Edward holds me down.

“You need your picture taken first,” he reminds me.

“Fine,” I growl.

I take my camera back out and hand it to Claire. Seth and her step back, giggling at me before taking a picture. It just so happens that one of Edward’s hands is on the edge of my ass and the other lying on my leg.

“Thank you, Santa.”

“It was my pleasure,” he hums. As I move to stand up, removing myself from the temptation that is Edward, he pulls me closer, whispering in my ear.

“Have dinner with me?”

He smells so good this close to me. Warm and inviting, a slight hint of the ocean. Pulling away from him, I shake my head.

The next week I’m swamped at work, the final preparations for the holiday recital taking place this weekend. I end up spending more time at the studio than usual. Seth spends time that he would normally spend with me, with Jacob. Claire pitches in and helps out with the preparations.

It’s Friday morning, tomorrow is the recital, and I’ve just gotten to the studio. The kids are in school, and I’ve only had one cup of coffee.

As I’m starting the coffee maker I hear the bell on the front door ding.

“Hello?” A familiar voice calls out.

Oh shit. It can’t be. In all the places in this town, he comes in here?

My suspicions are confirmed when I step out from my office and find Edward standing in my studio. He’s looking around at some of the pictures on the wall. All of the sudden I’m highly embarrassed of the framed photos of myself in some of the productions from college that I had chosen to hang for decoration.

“What can I do for you, Dr. Cullen?” I ask.

He turns and smiles at me. And suddenly I’m warm, like when I sit in front of my Christmas tree.

“Please, call me Edward.” He grins. “Um, do you give dance lessons? I mean to adults?”

“We do have some adult classes, yes.” I move over to the front counter to grab a brochure on our class options.

He follows me over, and I’m aware how close he is when he stops.

So close.

“Is this for you or a gift?” I ask, handing him the brochure.

“A gift for my sister. I suspect that she will be engaged this Christmas and I wanted to give her and her fiancé-to-be dance lessons.”

His voice is deep, and even though his words are nothing sexual, they pour over my skin, causes me to moan a little and shiver.

I pull myself back together and wrap my sweater around my wait, holding it together with my arms. My body is crying, wanting more of this man in front of me. But I’m holding myself back.

So wrong. But what is wrong? The want or what would happen if I gave in?

He looks up from the brochure and gazes at me. His eyes seem to glaze over, lost in his own thoughts for a few moments. Shaking his head, he begins to talk again.

“This will work; I’ll take package number five.”

“Wonderful.” I step back behind the counter, thankful for the object that is in between us.

“Why?” he asks.

“Why what?” I know what he is asking, but I’m not going to acknowledge the subject.

“You know what?”

“I can’t.”

I hear Edward mutter under his breath, and I stifle a giggle. We both want the same thing, to spend some time with each other, but in the end, I know it’s not a good idea.

The weekend comes and the recital is over before I know it. The kids have a half a week of school coming up and Christmas is next weekend.

Sitting in front of my tree, I get lost in the pretty colors of the ornaments.

The front door bell chimes and I hear Seth running through the house to answer the door.

“Mom!” he yells. “It’s Dr. Cullen!”

I wonder as I make my way to the front door why Carlisle would be here. He seems more like the type to call than to just drop by.

But it’s not Carlisle.

Standing at my front door is Edward.

I’m beginning to think that he is stalking me.

“Dr. Cullen moved in next door!” Seth exclaims.

I smile at my son who seems very happen to have Edward next door.

Edward next door. Shit.

“Well, isn’t that a surprise,” I feign excitement.

Edward rolls his eyes at me and I can’t help but let out a little laugh.

“I know this is going to sound very odd, but I was wondering if you had a cup of sugar?” Edward asks.

“Yeah, we have sugar,” I answer him.

“Come on, Dr. Cullen. Come see our awesome Christmas tree.” Seth grabs Edward by the wrist and drags him off. Edward is grinning at me, like he’s won a prize at the fair.

I bet he thinks he’s worming his way into me saying yes.

Sighing to myself I make my way to the kitchen and place two cups of sugar into a plastic storage bag. As I make my way back to my living room, I’m stunned by a vision. One I’ve thought about a few times, but never ever thought I would actually see.

Edward is standing behind Seth, both captivated in the bright lights and beautiful ornaments of our Christmas tree. Edward has such a genuine smile on his face and Seth seems to be in heaven, pointing out all the different ornaments that we have collected over the years.

Heaving a sigh I shake my head, trying to break my thoughts of my vision; Edward as a father figure to my son, filling the void in my house as well as my heart.

“Here’s your sugar,” I announce stepping further into the room.

Edward mumbles something that sounds like ‘you sure are’ but I can’t be sure, so I roll my eyes and hand him the bag.

“Um, thanks.”

“I gotta finish my homework, see ya around, Dr. Cullen!” Seth yells running from the room.

Edward and I are left in the room alone, staring at each other. Not so much an awkward silent as a comfortable silent.

And there is that word again; comfortable.

Shit.

“You have a spectacular tree, Bella.” Edward gulps

“Thanks.”

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“I’m busy.”

“So that’s a no to dinner?”

“Yes, Edward.”

Edward’s continued perusal of me was becoming a cruel twist of fate. I never felt this physically attracted to a man before yet he was so wrong for me.

Edward asked one more time on his way out the door, grinning and not waiting for my usual response. I shut the door and sighed against it.

This was now even more dangerous having him as my new next-door neighbor.

With Edward living right next door, I started looking at his house and yard every time I left our house, looking for him, but not wanting to see him.

It was an enormous dichotomy for me.

The next week passed and I didn’t see any sign of Edward anywhere.

Not in town.

Not next door.

Christmas Eve arrived and the kids were in bed. We had just been through a long day, spending lunch and dinner with Paul’s family. Between all the food, smiling, laughing and storytelling, we were all exhausted.

But I’m never too tired to admire our Christmas tree.

It’s Christmas Eve after all.

I snuggle down in my chair, the glow of the lights the only thing on in the room. The sun has set and darkness over the beach and ocean is all that you see out the windows of the living room.

A few hours pass and I notice that it’s almost midnight. If I was a kid again, I would make a wish; a Christmas wish.

But I don’t know what to wish for anymore.

From the corner of my eye, I see lights flicking on. Turning, I see a fully light Christmas tree on the beach.

It’s like a bright star, or a beacon, calling me.

I walk out the patio door and head down our walkway to see who or what is going on. Next to the tree is Edward, grinning like a kid that caught Santa in his house.

“Edward, what are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to make a liar out of Santa.”

“Are you serious? You came out here, in the middle of the night to set this up? Are you crazy or something?”

“I wanted to get your attention.”

“You have it, now go home.”

“Are you going to turn me down again?”

“Why do you keep asking? I’m twelve years older than you, Edward. I’m old, I don’t have a firm butt, you have every young woman in town wanting you and you keep asking me out…”

“Don’t,” he interrupts me. “You want me, just as much as I want you.”

“I’ve told you, I can’t.”

“Bullshit. What the hell are you scared of?”

I shake my head, dropping my eyes, avoiding looking at his intense gaze.

He steps closer, his body burning. If he touches me, I’ll burn for sure.

“Don’t,” I whisper, taking my pointy finger, and pushing at his chest.

“Yes.”

My body trembles at his words, the strength behind them and the conviction in which they are spoken are affecting me.

“Edward, I can’t.”

“Bullshit.”

His growl surrounds me, sending tremors through my body only to have me inch closer to touching him more.

“Bella,” he hums.

My mind and body can’t fight our connection, this chemistry that is pulling us together. Stronger and stronger it becomes each time we talk or see each other.

My head rises, and I find Edward watching me, his eyes a deep jade, searching for my eyes.

His hand reaches out to touch my cheek, grazing with feather touches.

My body moves closer, his hands wrap around my waist as our bodies touch.

Funny how since I met him that I denied wanting to be involved with him, thinking that I would never feel Edward’s touch much less have him kissing me.

But he was, kissing me with such intensity that I completely melt into his arms.

In a short time, we progress from kissing, discovering each other’s lips, tongue and mouth, to hands exploring each other’s bodies.

He lowers us to the cool sand, his strong arms securing my body under his. The dim lights from the tree give us some mood lighting.

My hands grab at his shirt, pulling it, un-tucking from his pants. My fingers crawl up his back, feeling al his toned muscles moving and exciting me even more.

One of his hands moves to my leg, running down, his fingers memorizing the feel of my skin. He repositions his body to rest in between my legs, the heat from our bodies burning, begging for more fuel.

He reaches the hem of my dress and pulls it up as he makes his way back up my body, teasing my skin, causing my breathing to increase to almost pants.

My body is alive for the first time in five years, having not been touched like this since Paul. I’ve been taking care of myself over the years; the need to orgasm has always been a primal one. But I never sought out the comforts of a man.

And all I want now is more. More Edward.

“Edward,” I groan.

He is moaning, grinding himself against me. His movements are strong and continuing to drive my body to wanting more.

Our bodies are molding into the sand, giving us our own bed of sin.

His fingers find my panties, the edge, my sex, and then the wetness.

“Fuck!” I cry out as he inserts his fingers.

It only takes a few minutes, my body flying off the edge.

But this need, the one that Edward stirs in me is feral. And all I want is all of him.

My intentions are clear the minute my hands move to unbuckle his pants, pushing and tugging them down, enough to release him.

He’s in my hand, hard and hot.

My dress is bunched at my waist, and our skin is making more contact than before.

I stroke him against my heat and wetness, preparing.

He thrusts into me.

“Yes!” I hiss.

He stills for a moment, our bodies connecting and purring.

“Bella,” Edward whispers my name.

“Edward?” I ask concerned.

“I’ve never felt this right before. Please tell me that you feel this too.”

I watch his face, little wrinkles above his brow, indicating his intensity and concentration.

He breaks for a moment, pulling out slowly.

I grab his ass and push him back in.

“All I know is, I want this, I want you, right now. I can’t fight it anymore. Please.”

My plea to him, my heart opening up, just a sliver, but is it enough to hurt me? Will he want more? Questions I don’t want to think about right now.

He pushes in, deeper, taking my right leg with his movement, up to the side of his ribs.

The rhythm begins, his hips moving quickly, smooth as his eyes lock to mine.

“So good,” he groans.

I pant and move my leg to extend to his shoulder. “Fuck.”

His face and lips smash against mine, our passion overflowing through our kisses. Edward’s body is firm and tone, his muscles moving under my fingers. He tongue pleasures my mouth, massaging and tangled with my own tongue.

Everything about this should be wrong, our age, the location, and both of us acting out on our mutual attraction towards each other. But it doesn’t feel wrong. Everything feels right.

His taste is warm, and my body feels comfortable experiencing him, taking in his scent and having his body moving with mine. My hands move all along his body, to his soft hair, my fingers grip the longer pieces at his neck, giving a gentle tug.

His hands hold me, his body moves, bringing mine ultimate pleasure.

Everything just feels so right.

We lose ourselves in each other, the touches and movements driving to one common objective.

The coil tightens as Edward’s speed increases.

He cries my name as we both plunge and descend in ultimate ecstasy.

Our breathing slows, and Edward holds me, placing whispering kisses on my face.

“Merry Christmas, Bella.”

I laugh at the absurdity of the moment; us on the beach, ravishing each in the early hours of Christmas morning, a Christmas tree with tons of lights burning brightly on the beach.

I’m not sure what will happen from here.

But for the first time in a long time, I make a Christmas wish.

**~0~**  

~thanks to SFFR & Sandy for allowing me to be apart of this.