Massage Therapy, Chapter 6

From the Desktop of Bella Swan
Saturday, July 24

“Hey, beautiful, how ya feeling these days? R U on the mend? I thought if U were up to it, U’d like to grab some dinner w/me & then check out The Pack tonight. We’re playing at Maggie’s Farm on the east side. What do U think?”

I think you’ve got a lot of nerve, that’s what I think, I glared back at the text message on my cell phone. Two weeks? Two weeks Jacob Black waited to find out how I’m doing. And then he had the audacity to ask me out, on a Saturday morning, for that same night. Clearly he never read or even heard of The Rules. Just because he and I have known each other since we were kids is no excuse for him to treat me like a reliable old pair of sneakers.

Still, I have to appreciate the irony of him text-messaging me as I sat in the waiting room of Cullen and Cullen, PC. If it weren’t for my over-zealous efforts to fix up our shabby apartment for Jake, I never would have met Edward Cullen. Or, if I had, it would have been in a place like Billy’s, where I no doubt would have approached him about signing with Java Noise and been unceremoniously shot down.

I wondered if Edward was a mind-reader, because no sooner did I start thinking about him than he showed up in the reception area, clipboard and files in hand. The sight of him bowled me over once again, he was so ridiculously handsome. I wondered if I would ever reach the point where his mere presence didn’t make every nerve in my body sing in anticipation. Eye contact with him never failed to send a surge of adrenaline through me, and his smile seemed the only remedy to calm it.

He was finishing up with the patient before me and told me it would be a moment. I was glad, because that gave me time to recover from the impact of his gorgeousness, and to send Jake an appropriate return message.

“Hey, Jake. I’m slowly getting better w/reg visits to a chiro and MT, thx for asking. Sorry, I have plans tonight. Maybe some other time if you give me more notice.”

I hit “send” with a smirk of satisfaction. I actually didn’t have any plans, and had considered going to check out his band again for Rose, but I certainly wasn’t telling him that. To be honest, I really hadn’t given him a thought this past week. I was too busy trying not to obsess over Edward, and then feeling crushed at the sight of him with his blonde bombshell date last night. Obviously Alice Cullen had no plans whatsoever to set me up with her brother if she asked me to show up on his date night. She probably just wanted to help out Edward’s friend Jasper, since she thought he’d be more amenable to the idea of a music career. Jasper is talented--he has a quirky voice and mad guitar skills--but Edward possesses a kind of hypnotic charisma that can’t be learned or bought. Then again, maybe I’m biased. The more I know about Edward, the more unclear my perception of him becomes. Isn’t the opposite supposed to happen?

My appointment with him today didn’t help matters. It seemed to go by in a blur of pure sensation. Certain points stand out in my mind, like when he first grasped my hips, ever so gently, and then probed the outline of my hipbones through my jeans. A nervous thrill shot through my groin, followed by a slow, gathering warmth between my legs. All he was doing was measuring my hips in order to tell me just how screwed up they are, but my hormones were oblivious to such cold, hard facts.

Those insistent hormones continued to tip the scales throughout the massage session. I couldn’t look at Edward for long, because whenever I did, I couldn’t relax. It had been a lot easier when I thought it was Emmett who was working on me. Now that I knew the truth, my mind could not ignore the knowledge that it was Edward’s beautiful hands probing my body so thoroughly, and excitement prickled through me in response. I attempted to concentrate solely on the wonderful things he was doing to my strained muscles, but then I’d begin thinking about his fingers straying to more intimate parts of my body…imagining the things he could do there. Realizing how badly I wanted him to touch me that way. Wondering what his mouth would feel like instead…those tender-looking lips exploring me, raising goose bumps on my skin as his breath cooled the wetness his tongue left behind.

Sometime in the middle of my frustrated sexual fantasies, he stopped and told me to imagine something that had always made me happy, so I would relax more. I tried thinking back to when I was a kid and you took me to the beach, Mom. I remembered that time we vacationed in California and you helped me build sand castles all day, then wiped away my tears when the tide came in and washed my little kingdom back into the sea. Life was so blessedly simple then; hurts so easily mended.

I gradually realized that his suggestion had worked. I actually had calmed down a lot, recalling happy memories. I began fantasizing about being at the beach again, but this time, with Edward. That is, the Edward I’d seen glimpses of--the one with an easy smile, the one who joked with his friends and made them laugh. It would be fun to spend a day with him, just horsing around in the water.

I wondered if we could do that--just enjoy each other’s company without the underlying tension that seemed to taint every interaction with each other. Then again, if the tension was partly sexual--and it certainly was on my end--there was something to be said for that. I wouldn’t want our dynamic to be so comfortable that we were in danger of falling into the “friend zone.”

That’s where I’ve always placed Jacob Black. He’s a couple of years younger than me, and when I moved to Forks my junior year in high school, I barely recognized the kid with whom I’d spent summers playing in the tide pools near the Quileute reservation. We continued to hang out occasionally whenever our dads got together, but I never felt anything beyond a platonic fondness for him.

That’s why I was so surprised when I went to check out The Wolf Pack for the first time a few weeks ago. I knew they had been practicing for years together, but I’d never heard them play an actual gig. I was shocked at how tight they sounded, and how good they already were even though they were new to the Seattle bar scene. I was impressed, and it was nice to see some home boys do good in the “big city.”

I was even more impressed when Jake came to give me a bear hug after their set, because his massive muscles nearly crushed me in their exuberant embrace. I wondered when he’d gotten so big. Did drumming really build biceps like that? I’m not really into muscles, but I had to admit that Jake was looking pretty fine, all grown up and filled out. It was the first time I’d ever flirted with the idea of something beyond being buddies with him. So when he asked me out, I was surprised but intrigued at the thought of our longtime friendship taking a turn. I was even a little nervous about it. He’d never made me nervous before.

But then I threw my back out of whack again, our date never happened, and Edward Cullen came into my life. Any thought of Jake was completely forgotten the minute I looked into Edward’s eyes. My hopeless attraction to him has eclipsed any fleeting interest I may have felt for my old friend.

And now, I was reveling in his touch, giving in to the gentle but insistent pressure of his hands beneath my body while he worked. His long fingers were as warm as the sun’s rays on my skin, sinking deep into my flesh and soothing me like no one has ever done before. I never wanted him to stop.

That’s precisely when my stupid tailbone started to twinge at me again. Traitor, I cursed it, wincing slightly as the strained sensation increased. I finally had to tell Edward it was bothering me, and the disappointment of his hands pulling out from under my backside was as unwelcome as the nerve twitch that had prompted him to stop. He seemed very concerned that I might be sick again, or that I wouldn’t be able to get up okay on my own. I began wondering how many truly crippled up people he treats. Or was I really that big of a mess at the end of our session last week?

After he left the room, I cringed at that thought as I eased myself off the table and got dressed. I decided I’d better get it together if I ever hope to have this guy see me in a romantic light. What if he’s afraid I’m too fragile to ever be fuckable?

Then I laughed at the audacity of my hopes and reminded myself about the blonde I saw him with last night. I am clearly nowhere near his type. He probably has about as much desire to fondle my flat chest as I do to replace a toilet seat ever again.

When I wandered out to the front desk to pay for my session, he insisted we wait to see if my insurance will cover it, which I know it won’t. But it was a relief that he helped me put off the inevitable, since pay day is still a week away. As I looked up at his beautiful visage, still smacking of dishevelment beneath his tidy jacket and glasses, I longed to break the ice with him somehow. More than ever, I want to get to know the untamed Edward hiding behind that carefully controlled surface.

I decided I would try apologizing for how things went down last Saturday night, not knowing if he had felt cornered when I admitted why I was at Billy’s. I was relieved to find that he hadn’t given it nearly as much thought as I had.

But before I could get too comfortable, he turned the tables on me. I was shocked when he mentioned that he thought he might see me at Billy’s again last night, until he explained that Alice had told him he might. He almost sounded disappointed when he thought I hadn’t shown; and again when I admitted I was there but didn’t speak to him. I can still hear his words ringing in my ears, rattling me to my core: “Isabella, I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t talk to me.”

When he told me he understood what I’d meant about music being able to heal people, I thought I must be dreaming. Most of my daydreams have centered around Edward Cullen being interested in what I have to say, or relating to me on some level. So for him to offer this up as “something you and I have in common” was sweet music to my ears.

But immediately after that, I found out why people always say to be careful what you wish for. I truly thought I wanted to share everything with him… until he asked me point blank about the one thing I can’t talk about.

I still can’t believe he hit the nail on the head like that. I stared at him, frozen, wondering if he had somehow looked up the state records for Arizona and read what had happened. But how the hell would he have known to do that? Which left the even more implausible, yet apparently accurate idea that he has some kind of uncanny intuition about me. That he truly sees into my darkest depths and knows what’s lurking there. But how could he?

Unless there’s a dark spot on his soul, too. Maybe that’s what I see when I look in his eyes… what I hear when his singing veers a little too close to an anguished wail. Perhaps we’re holding up mirrors to one another, playing a kind of emotional “chicken.” Testing each other, waiting to see which of us will reveal our ugly truths first.

I was frantically trying to figure out what to say to him--how much to explain without giving myself away--when I heard the door open behind me and felt a whoosh of hot air hit the backs of my bare arms. Relief flooded me. I turned to see the next patient who had unwittingly saved me, and my relief was soon replaced by the increasingly familiar jealousy sponge. I might as well get used to it if I’m going to waste time pining over a guy like Edward.

In waltzed the blonde from last night, stunningly statuesque and yet still somehow cute as a button in her ponytail and tennis dress. Who the hell actually wears those things? More to the point, is that really the kind of girl Edward goes for? Because I can’t see him willingly suiting up in the requisite tennis whites. Then again, it seems I find out something about him that surprises me on a regular basis. But surprises like model girlfriends are the kind I can do without.

I ducked out of Cullen and Cullen as fast as I could, feeling like an idiot for the pipe dreams I’d been creating about Edward. Granted, he had looked almost annoyed when his Barbie-esque friend, Kate Denali, had interrupted us; but it was getting to the point that I didn’t trust my judgment on that score anymore. The fact remained that she was the one he was escorting out in public, not me.

So why the personal questions, then? Why would he ask me if I had “an emotional scar?” Could that really have something to do with my treatment? The more I think about our brief conversation, the more confused I become. If I ever figure out men, it’ll be some kind of miracle. It probably won’t happen until I’m fifty, when it’ll be too late to put the knowledge to good use.

I stopped by Panera on the way home and picked up lunch for Angela and myself. As I waited in line at the counter, I checked my phone messages. There was a new one from Jake.

“Sorry, Bells, I should have called sooner. Been having some trouble w/our booking agent--looking for a new one. Tonite’s gig was last min. How ‘bout next Sat? We’re playing at the Thirsty Whale. Dinner first, my treat, wherever U want. I’ll call U later.”

Hmmm. At least Jake was offering me a dinner date, even if it was via text message. It’s probably more than I’ll ever get from “Mr. Cullen.” Thinking about him playing tennis with the Barbie doll--or Barbie Denali, as it were--made me vaguely nauseous. I pushed the thought aside and decided I might as well accept Jake’s invitation. But I thought I’d let him sweat it out a little and wait until he called me before I said “yes.”

Ange and I spent the afternoon cleaning the duplex and then opted for an evening in with a couple of movies. Sometimes my ears just need a rest from judging music all the time. I’m ignoring the nagging voice that tells me I really just want to hear Edward again, and anything else would be a let-down. I keep wondering if he’s playing anywhere tonight, and if the Barbie Denali is in attendance.

Jealousy is a very ugly emotion, Mom. Not that this is news. But I’m not sure I’ve ever felt it so keenly before, strangling me in its grip. I’m envious of anyone who gets to see the side of Edward that I’m dying to know. So my resentment of the seemingly-nice girl I met this afternoon only makes me feel both irritated and hopeless--not a very attractive combo.

I’ve decided I’m calling Jake tomorrow. That’s an appropriate amount of time to make him wait, right? I might as well give the guy a chance. Maybe he’ll surprise me.

Later, Mom. Love you.

~Bells



Thursday, July 29

Edward Cullen nearly got me in hot water yesterday morning.

He is blissfully unaware of this fact, of course. For a start, he couldn’t possibly know that he’s been the star of my increasingly romantic dreams for the past couple of weeks. My subconscious has been having a heyday while I sleep. It clearly doesn’t realize how pathetically far-fetched its scenarios are.

Edward and I were playing tennis this time. I don’t play tennis. I don’t play any sport that requires me to utilize hand-eye coordination in order to avoid injuring myself or others with flying missiles. But Edward was wearing another delectably body-skimming, tattered tee stretched over baggy shorts, and the muscles of his forearms rippled masterfully with every stroke that he foolishly lobbed my way. Astonishingly, the dream version of me was doing a commendable job returning his serves. The sheer absurdity of such a notion is no doubt what alerted my dormant consciousness to the fact that it had better end this nonsense immediately.

As my slowly-waking mind continued the ludicrous dream scenario--which ended with a heated argument-turned-violent make-out session over the tennis net--actual sleep eluded me completely. Frustration finally took over and forced me out from under the covers. I decided maybe I could make myself useful by going to Java early and taking care of a few things before Rose got to work.

On the way to the administrative area, I found myself lured toward one of the smaller recording studios--dark, empty and inviting in the early morning hours. What would he sound like on this kind of sound system? The desire to find out was overwhelming. I didn’t know how to use all the equalizers, but I had a basic understanding of how to play back recordings on the complicated equipment.

I had already converted my recordings of Edward and loaded them onto my iPod, but I still had the originals on my digital recorder as well. It would connect easily with a USB port, if I could only find the proper place to plug it in. After a little finagling with some chords and wires, I finally hit pay dirt.

Edward Cullen’s impassioned singing and guitar accompaniment soon swelled through the room, reverberating off the acoustically perfect walls and washing over me in waves of raw emotion. Perfectly imperfect, beautiful and ballsy, ugly and urgent and pleading…so many things conveyed in the space of mere minutes. I closed my eyes and lost myself in the gruff warmth of his voice. Its sinewy tendrils snaked under my skin, wrapping around my vitals more tightly than that twisted “fascia” of mine that Edward was so patiently trying to unravel. He had no way of knowing the hold he was taking in its place, replacing every bond he loosened with a new and different one that tied me to him.

As the song that had gripped me came to an end, I reluctantly opened my eyes just in time to see the always-immaculate Rosalie Hale approach the window and beckon to me with a crook of her finger. I let out a shaky sigh of relief as she disappeared down the hall toward her office. I would have died a thousand deaths if she had burst through the door and demanded to know more about who was responsible for the amazing music filling the room.

I retrieved my Edward demo and rushed down the hall into her office, quickly explaining that I was giving a few artists a second listen. My hand drifted to my back right pocket and patted the digital player that lay snuggled between the tight layers of denim.

Rose waved a hand dismissively, apparently unconcerned with what I’d been doing. She had already moved on to the latest stack of press kits to invade her desk, dividing them into some sort of personal filing system that only God or Einstein could figure out.

“Good news, Bella,” she began, pulling out the contents of one of the manila envelopes and giving it the once-over. I recognized the faces of the native Americans on the glossy black and white photo. “I played a few songs from this hometown band of yours for the suits,” she explained without preamble. “They were interested in hearing more. When’s their next gig? I want to go with you to hear them myself.”

“The Wolf Pack?” I asked. “God, they’ll be so excited if Java is interested in them! They’re playing this weekend, actually. I’m having dinner with Jake and then catching their set at the Thirsty Whale. You want to meet me there?”

“On your date? Uh, no thanks,” Rose laughed. “I don’t want to horn in on that action, as long as you keep it separate from business.”

“Believe me, you wouldn’t be horning in,” I scoffed. “Jake and I go way back. It’s not even a real date, I don’t think. Besides, I’ll be sitting by myself while they’re playing. I could use the company, and an impartial set of ears.”

“Well, the energy of the live stuff you caught a couple weeks ago was better than their demo. I like some of their original material. I want to see for myself if they can deliver the goods,” she mused as she perused their press kit. “I think they’d do well regionally, if not nationally. Not sure I’m sold on the name, though. Sounds too much like ‘Wolf People.’ Maybe they could just shorten it to ‘The Pack,’” she suggested, resting one perfectly manicured fingernail along her jaw as she studied their photo again.

“Maybe,” I reluctantly agreed. “’The Pack’ sounds a little like cigarettes, though,” I added with a wrinkle of my nose.

Rosalie let out a raucous laugh and hooked one shiny blonde curl behind her ear. If she weren’t such a cool boss, I might have to hate her just a little bit for looking so much like Edward Cullen’s type.

“Well, we can work on that. Give me the address and I’ll meet you at the club. Maybe at dinner you can do a little PR for us and see if they’re interested. Find out if any other labels have been sniffing around. They’ve got a good, current sound and I think that Sam guy has real lead man potential.”

“Cool,” I said, growing excited about the prospect of working with my Quileute friends. “I really need you to hear them, because I think they sound promising live, but I’m afraid I’m biased.” I instinctively touched my fingers to right ass cheek once again, where Edward Cullen rested in aggravating anonymity on my recorder. I wondered what Rose would think of him if she saw him perform. No, that’s not true; I didn’t wonder at all. I knew what she’d think. She’d want to sign him immediately. I couldn’t allow myself to consider what else she might want to do to him.

“So, heard anything else lately that tripped your trigger?” she asked. The comment was offhand, but I felt heat begin to filter through my cheeks. Every day that I kept Edward hidden in my back pocket--literally, at the moment--I felt a little more dishonest. I considered Rose both a mentor and a friend, and this job was not only my bread and butter, but my one true love for the past year. Yet if push came to shove, I already knew without a doubt that I would never betray Edward’s trust.

“Oh, maybe a couple of possibilities,” I hedged. “I want to see them again before I hand them over to you.”

“Okay,” she shrugged. She gathered a couple stacks of the thick manila envelopes and shoved them across the desk toward me. “You can get cracking on these, then,” she grinned.

I groaned in mock protest as I scooped up the latest batch of submissions and carried them to my tiny office adjacent to hers. It was only after I’d unloaded them onto my desk that I realized I hadn’t once worried about hurting my back by hefting the huge stack. It was a small victory, but it was progress all the same. I smiled a little to myself and decided I would tell Emmett about it at my appointment that afternoon.

Rose let me leave a little early to get to Cullen and Cullen on time. I felt a little on edge as I sat in the waiting area, wondering if I would get a glimpse of Edward, even though I knew he had other appointments. I was a bit disappointed when Emmett came out and ushered me into the exam room shortly after I arrived.

After a brief examination, he echoed what Edward had told me on Saturday: I had quite a few bones out of alignment again. He worked on me for a good half hour, pressing a rib back into place, pushing my vertebrae and hips into submission, and torturing me with that pressure-point stuff that sends my nerves screaming during the blessedly brief moments that he skewers them with his thumbs.

“You should have those things registered as lethal weapons,” I moaned after he was done.

He let out a hearty laugh and commented, “You are not the first patient to suggest that, actually. But the important thing is, how do you feel now?”

I walked around a bit and realized that I felt pretty good. My body felt loose instead of tense, and nothing ached or bothered me. I told him as much, and his answering smile and twinkling blue eyes were infectious.

“Small price to pay then, eh?” he said. “Don’t worry, Bella, eventually your body will get used to the adjustments and things will stay where they should be.” He looked over my chart and asked, “Are you doing the stretching exercises Edward recommended?”

I bit my lip sheepishly. “A little. Not as often as I should, probably.” I was pretty sure that once or twice a week, when I thought about it, was not the answer he was looking for.

“You know, you might try a yoga or Pilates class to help gain some strength and flexibility. Alice goes three times a week. If you’re interested, I’m sure she’d be happy to take you along some time.”

“Well, yeah, sure,” I agreed less than enthusiastically. I actually wouldn’t mind hanging out with Alice, but obviously physical activity and I have never been on good terms. You can attest to that, Mom. I shudder to think how many scrapes you bandaged when I was a kid.

“Do you have my sister’s phone number? If not, I can give it to you. I’m sure she’d love to hear from you,” Emmett encouraged.

“I do have it, actually. I think she’d like me to listen to Jasper some time,” I explained. Somehow it seemed wise to leave Edward out of the equation.

“I’m sure she would. Jasper probably wouldn’t mind it, either. Edward’s another story, of course.” Emmett shook his head ruefully, then continued, “As for the yoga, I think he would agree it’s a good idea. He’ll be on you like white on rice if he finds out you haven’t been following his orders, trust me,” he chuckled.

I had the fleeting thought that I would love nothing more than for Edward to be “on me,” in any capacity. But I realized that Emmett was referring to Edward’s exacting standards. Normally I bristle at anyone telling me what to do, for any reason. So why is the thought of Edward bossing me around sort of…hot?

“I’ll give your sister a call,” I promised, following Emmett out to the reception counter.

Jessica was her usual bubbly self as she took my payment and scheduled me for another visit at the end of next week. It was near closing time and yet she still seemed to have enough energy to go for another eight hours. I envy people like that. As much as I love hearing live music, there are some nights when I just don’t have the will to go hang out in clubs and bars. I guess I get that homebody gene from Dad, huh? You always said I’m just like him. The older I get, the more I see it. It was surprisingly easy being with him when I moved to Forks, even though I thought that was the last thing I wanted to do. He’s been my rock. I don’t know what I would have done these past few years without him in my corner.

I dragged my feet at the counter, hoping that Edward would finish with his patient and make an appearance before I left. I kept Jessica talking as long as I could, which is actually pretty long, since she’s a jabber-box; but I finally had to admit defeat and head out to my car.

Once inside, I fished through my purse until I found the scrap of paper with Alice’s number scribbled on it. I knew I’d better call her now before I lost my nerve. My fingers shook a little as I punched the numbers into my cell phone. I knew it was the possibility of getting closer to Edward through her that made the blood course so rapidly through my veins. It certainly wasn’t the thought of starting exercise classes that had me trembling in anticipation.

“Hello?” Alice’s upbeat warble met my ears.

“Hi, Alice? This is Bella,” I said awkwardly. “Bella Swan, from Billy’s last weekend?” I added uncertainly, suddenly wondering if she would even remember who I was.

“Of course, Bella!” Alice exclaimed as if I were her long-lost best friend. “I’m so glad you called. What’s up? Do you need a partner in crime for some talent-trolling?”

“Um, well, maybe. I’m staying in tonight, but I’ll probably go to an open mic night tomorrow night at one of my regular spots downtown. Unless you know of someplace new I can check out,” I added clumsily, hoping that it didn’t sound like I was fishing for the next date Edward would be playing somewhere.

“Oh, I’m game for anywhere you want to meet up. It’s weird--when I’m away at school so much, it almost feels like I’m a stranger to this town when I come home, you know? Like I don’t even know where it’s cool to hang out anymore.”

“Where do you go to school?” I asked.

“Stanford,” she replied nonchalantly, as if anyone can gain admittance--or afford tuition--to such a place. “I went there because I originally planned on getting into biochem and medical research. But when I started doing some hospital internships, I fell in love with pediatric medicine. I felt so gratified when I came home at the end of the day, even though I saw heartbreaking things in the peds unit. I almost transferred back to U-Dub because it has such an awesome med school for primary care. But I love San Francisco, and I kind of like being away from the fam, as much as I love ‘em,” she concluded.

“I can understand that,” I said, though that wasn’t quite true. Dad was always easy to live with, and I miss you like crazy. I most certainly can’t understand any desire to be far away from the Cullen brothers. But maybe if I were related to them, I’d feel differently.

“So, the reason I’m calling, actually, is to ask you about where you take yoga classes,” I told her, changing the subject. “I had an appointment with Emmett today, and he seems to think I should try to do some toning and stretching.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea,” Alice answered. “Are you free Saturday? There’s a place I go to that has a really good program for beginners and intermediates, and the instructors are great.”

“Well, I have an appointment with Edward at 10 a.m., but I’m free before or after.”

“Ooh, lucky you! I would kill for one of Edward’s massages. Of course he never gives ’em to me because I refuse to pay him,” she laughed. “How about we go afterward? You’ll be good and loosened up for the class. I can come meet you at the office and we’ll go from there.”

“Sure,” I agreed with as much enthusiasm as I could muster for the prospect of taking yoga. Before I could add anything else, Alice asked me again about tagging along with me to an open mic night tonight. We made arrangements to meet in Belltown, and she seemed excited to come with me. I felt a little thrill of anticipation, too, but for different reasons, I was sure.

Just as we were about to hang up the phone, Alice interjected one last time.

“Hey, you want to grab some dinner beforehand? There’s this Turkish place near your office that I’ve been dying to try out,” she suggested.

“Sure, sounds good. I’ve eaten lunch there and the food is great,” I agreed, trying not to sound too eager. I actually like Alice, so I couldn’t help but feel guilty for wanting to find out more about Edward through her.

As it turned out, I worried needlessly. I found out tonight that Alice has a few schemes of her own. Schemes with which I’m fully on board. Grateful, even.

We met in the entryway of the Istanbul Grill at 6 p.m. and were seated immediately, as the place now held only a fraction of its large lunchtime clientele. The Grill is a favorite among a lot of Java Noise staff, with its mix of American and traditional middle-eastern fare and an atmosphere more cozy and than exotic. Alice ordered veggie kebabs while I opted for their excellent baba ganoush.

After a few benign pleasantries, Alice fold her hands under her chin and fixed me with a probing stare.

“I don’t believe in beating around the bush,” she announced. “So, what do you think of my brother?”

I covered my surprise with a large gulp of my iced tea. “Edward? Or Emmett?” I stalled.

Alice only laughed. “I hate to tell you, but you’re fooling no one. It’s very obvious that there’s something going on between you and Edward. I’m just wondering if I should get my hopes up.”

It was my turn to laugh then. “Well, I’m flattered that you think I’m a good choice for him, but I think he would beg to differ. I don’t seem to be his type.”

Alice scrunched her nose in bafflement. “What makes you say that? You are exactly his type. Well, as much as he has a type. He’s been acting kind of weird lately--weirder than usual, anyway. But I definitely like the kind of weird he is when he’s around you.”

I shook my head, now baffled myself. “Well, considering I keep seeing him with this--” my lip curled in a mixture of distaste and defeat--“blonde bombshell of a woman, I think you’d better cool your jets over the idea of him ever being interested in me.”

“Blonde bombshell…?” Alice looked perplexed.

“Yeah, Kate something. I forget her last name,” I lied in an effort to sound nonchalant about the Barbie Denali.

“Oh! Kate Denali?” Alice exclaimed. Her raucous peals of laughter rippled through the restaurant, drawing a few curious glances. “Trust me, you don’t need to worry about her! Satan will be putting on a parka the day anything happens between Kate and Edward.”

Her giggles subsided as her eyes drifted toward the door behind me, and she began waving wildly. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear. I invited Edward to join us--I hope that’s okay,” she grinned, looking rather devilish herself.

A wave of excited panic swept over me as I shifted my glance to the left and saw his lithe form come into view. I lifted my gaze slowly up his faded jeans and over his dull red-and-blue-plaid shirt, its sleeves rolled up so that I could admire the forearms I’d been dreaming about that morning. I finally mustered the bravery to look at his face, which registered its usual expression upon seeing me--mild shock. Obviously Alice had failed to tell him that I would be here, and vice versa. Sneaky, sneaky girl. I’m beginning to like her more and more.

“I’m going with Bella to check out some music tonight,” she explained to her brother as he sidled into the booth next to her. “I thought it would be nice if she could have dinner with us beforehand.”

Edward gave me that slightly wary smile, the one that simultaneously frustrated and enthralled me. I’d give anything for him to simply look happy to see me.

“Nice to see you,” he said. He uttered no name in greeting, of course. I suppose that’s better than “Ms. Swan.”

“Nice to see you, too.”

An awkward pause fell upon the table as Edward and I looked away from each other, while Alice’s eager eyes bounced back and forth like a tennis ball between us, probably looking for signs of attraction to justify her duplicity.

Edward raked evenly-spaced rows through his hair with one hand while he reached for a menu with the other. “So, have you two ordered already?”

We nodded in agreement while he perused the menu intently.

“Bella’s going to come with me to yoga class after her appointment with you Saturday,” Alice informed her brother. “Doctor’s orders. You should be pleased.”

Edward looked up at her with a slight grin, and then his green gaze settled over me. “That’s great. I think that will be good for you.”

“I hope so. Exercise and I have not traditionally been the best of friends.”

His grin increased, disarming what little shield I might have left. “Well, here’s to new friendships, then.”

I could not defeat my own answering smile, nor did I want to. Alice began bouncing up and down in her seat, her leg apparently pumping furiously under the table.

The waitress arrived with our drinks, and Edward ordered the falafel platter with kisir and baba ganoush on the side. I assured him that was an excellent choice, and his resultant smile sent tingles right down to my toes. Alice excused herself to go to the ladies’ room, and the tingles increased to a swarm underneath my skin as she crawled over Edward and disappeared to the back of the restaurant.

“Alice didn’t tell me you would be here,” I explained immediately.

Edward’s brows furrowed. “Would that have kept you from coming if you’d known?”

My eyes popped open wide in surprise. “No, of course not. I just didn’t want you to think I‘m stalking you, and that I put her up to this.”

He let out a small laugh, more like a gust of breath. “I didn’t. I was worried you might think the same about me. She didn’t let me know you’d be here, either.”

I considered telling him that he could stalk me all he liked; that in fact, I would probably welcome any aberrant behavior of his if it meant we could spend more time together.

Instead I settled for, “Looks like Alice has some… interesting ideas about us.”

He made no reply, but his eyebrow and the corner of his mouth raised enticingly in unison. He stopped the impending smile by wrapping his lips around his water glass and taking a sip. I watched his face morph into the impartial mask of the therapist as he spoke.

“I want to apologize for asking you such a personal question at the office last Saturday. It’s none of my business what happened to you in the past. It’s only my business to help make you better now. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

I tried not to let my face fall as the rest of me visibly slumped in my seat. I want no apology from him. I want his interest, even if it means I’ll eventually have to come clean about everything. If I ever need a confessor, I already know I want it to be him.

“There’s nothing to forgive. You were just concerned. It was actually nice of you to ask.”

The “V” that formed between his brows cracked the mask. “It’s just that sometimes the body doesn’t know the difference between physical pain and emotional pain. All it knows is that you’re hurting, and it does everything it can to protect you. Sometimes it helps me to know what I’m dealing with. What you’re dealing with.” He pursed his lips after this statement, evidently worried that again he had assumed to much. He hadn’t at all.

“I get that,” I replied softly. “You’re not too far off the mark. It’s just hard for me to talk about, that’s all.”

To my relief, the mask dissolved entirely. “I get that, too, believe me. But if you ever want to talk… you can trust me.”

An emotion swelled through my chest that was the exact opposite of the jealousy sponge. I could only nod in reply, because I didn’t trust my throat to let the words out.

Alice returned then, nudging Edward over and sitting in his place.

“So how was the trip to the vet? Did you get Lucky all fixed up?” she asked him enthusiastically, lightening the mood. Before he could answer, she turned to me and added, “Edward adpoted a new cat! He’s gorgeous. At least, he will be after he’s all cleaned up.”

Edward laughed and said, “Lucky is fine. He’s got his shots, been de-wormed, de-loused and de-flea’d. He’s extremely pissed off with me at the moment. If he only knew how lucky he is that I didn’t have him castrated, he’d be a lot more grateful.”

“Ah! I can’t wait to see him!” Alice exclaimed. “I’ll bet he’s beautiful now. He’s a stray orange tabby that was hanging around Edward’s building and just sort of wormed his way into the apartment,” she informed me before turning back to her brother. “I admire his persistence. He’s just what you needed.”

“Huh. We’ll see,” he muttered with a sour grin. “Between the vet and the pet store, this stupid feline has fleeced me of several hundred dollars already. He’d better be a good mouser and a good foot-warmer come winter. I hate cats. You know that, Alice.”

I studied Edward’s face and saw that his eyes did not match his gruff words. He was already in love with his new pet, no matter how much he protested on the surface. I was dying to meet Lucky and discover how he managed to pull off such a feat.

Alice wasn’t buying it, either. “People change, Edward. Happens to the best of us. If we’re lucky, it’s for the better.”

The siblings exchanged a secret sort of smile, and I was a little envious. There are many times that I wished I had a brother or sister to confide in, or even a cousin. My family is too small. I try to appreciate what I have instead of mourn what I’ve lost, but it’s difficult sometimes.

The rest of dinner was spent in small talk, with Edward telling us funny stories about his inquisitive new pet, and Alice warning me about one of the older regulars at yoga class who seems to have taken one too many acid trips during her hippie years. The only anecdote I could think of was to fill them in on my latest project, Jake and The Wolf Pack. I won’t lie--I did it mostly to see if I could get a rise out of Edward. I wasn’t disappointed.

“So he finally called you, huh?” Edward remarked after I told him whom I was texting last Saturday morning. “He waited long enough.”

“That’s exactly what I thought,” I agreed, the warm tingles returning to my body at Edward’s accusation. “I let him sweat it out before I returned his call.”

“That’s good,” Alice said, her eyes tennis-balling us both again. “I hope you told him where to go.”

“Well, not exactly. He and I are old friends, since we were kids. The band has been having trouble with their booking agent. They probably don’t even have any formal management at this point, which they desperately need. Anyway, I agreed to have dinner with him and see The Wolf Pack tomorrow night. My boss is coming by later to check them out, so that’s promising.”

“That is!” Alice exclaimed. “You think they could have a real shot?”

“Yeah, I do, actually,” I said, studying Edward’s frown as he reached for his soda. “They sound pretty great. They’ve been working hard the past few years, so I’d love to see them get signed with us.”

“I think I met your friend Jacob Black and the rest of them, actually,” Edward commented. “Alice, you remember the native Americans Emmett introduced us to a couple of weeks ago at Billy’s?”

“Oh, sure! Well, sort of. I was a little busy at the time,” she smiled.

“With Jasper, I know,” Edward razzed her. “Anyway, at the time I wondered if he was the same guy you were dating. I guess he was.” His eyes pierced mine questioningly.

“I wouldn’t say we’re dating. Not at all,” I denied. “It’s really more of a business date, anyway, since Rosalie will be there.”

“Is that your boss?” Alice piped up.

I nodded, still staring at Edward. He hadn’t so much as blinked. Our eyes were transfixed, just as they had been the first night I saw him perform.

“Well, if it’s not a date, then maybe we’ll stop by and take a listen. I told Jacob I’d check out his band sometime,” Edward announced in a clipped tone. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was jealous. I would love nothing more than to see him seething with jealousy, the way I always seem to be whenever I see him with Kate, or any other woman, actually.

The booth shook with Alice’s frantic bouncing. “Oh, that would be awesome. I mean, if you don’t mind, Bella. We don’t want to intrude or anything.” She clearly was ecstatic at the thought of intruding, and I couldn’t say I was opposed to it, either.

“No, I’d love it. They’ll be at the Thirsty Whale downtown. Do you know where it is?”

Edward nodded and told Alice it wasn’t far from his place, so she could stay with him if she wanted. Then they discussed the possibility of Emmett and Jasper coming along with them. Suddenly, my upcoming date with Jake seems to be getting very crowded. I don’t feel too bad about it, since I’m fairly certain that if the evening ends with his band getting a foot in the door at Java Noise, everything else will take a back seat.

After we finished eating, Alice suggested Edward come with us, but he begged off, saying he’d better check on the cat and see how he was doing after getting worked over so thoroughly at the vet. I imagined that his eyes were more intense than usual as he told me he’d see me Saturday morning, but I’m sure I was seeing what I wanted to. I watched his broad shoulders and cute ass appreciatively as he sauntered down the sidewalk toward his car, which was parked opposite of mine. When he disappeared around the corner, my eyes finally shifted to Alice and her Cheshire grin.

“You are so gone on my brother,” she stated, her doe eyes shining.

I let out a sigh of surrender. “Is it that obvious?”

“Oh, yeah. I recognize the signs. You’re not the first, I must admit. But I think you might be the last, and I could not be happier about that,” she said in a satisfied tone.

“Wow, that’s a pretty bold statement,” I told her, trying to suppress a dangerous swell of hope at her words. What would make her think that Edward was interested in me enough to forego other women?

“Maybe. But you don’t know Edward like I do. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him like this. Maybe never, in fact. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him get jealous like he did when you brought up that Jake guy. That was genius on your part, by the way! That worked on my brother like a charm. Trust me, Edward likes you. Very, very much,” she said confidently as we approached my beater truck. Alice had taken a cab from the ferry terminal to the restaurant, so I was driving the rest of the evening.

I still get nervous driving sometimes, even though the truck has been completely refurbished with every safety feature money can buy. This was one whim Charlie gave into: my desire for the sturdiest, safest vehicle possible. I like the combination of my truck’s ancient, impervious steel exterior with modern airbags, seatbelts and anti-lock brakes.

“If Edward likes me, he has a funny way of showing it,” I said as I unlocked the doors. “Sometimes he looks at me like I have the plague and he’s afraid he’ll catch it.”

“Well, as long as you’re his patient, it’ll be an uphill battle,” Alice admitted as she climbed in and put on her seatbelt. “He’s got a no-dating policy with his clients. But, he won’t be treating you forever,” she grinned conspiratorially. “Besides, I think he might cave if you keep at.”

“Really?” I said uncertainly as I revved the groaning engine. “You think I should be more obvious with him? I don’t know if I can do that. I’m not the most outgoing person, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Yes, but you’re honest and straight-forward. You shoot from the hip, and Edward loves that. Just be yourself and everything will take care of itself,” she said confidently as I checked the mirrors, looked over my shoulder and pulled out into traffic.

“Right. Simple.” I shook my head a little and said no more as I concentrated on getting us to Belltown in one piece.

“It is simple. Don’t make it complicated. I’ll remind Edward to do the same,” she smiled, settling back against the worn red leather headrest.

We had fun at the Gooseneck Pub, listening to some Celtic and folk-inspired music that was pretty good. I recorded the performers, though I wasn’t certain any of them were a good fit for Java. Alice remained quiet during the acts, then bent my ear in between. She talked a lot about Jasper, and I could see that she was as certain of her future with him as she was about mine with Edward. I wish I had a fraction of her faith in fate’s good graces. In my experience, Fate can be a cruel master.

We didn’t stay out too late since I had to work in the morning. When I dropped Alice off at the terminal, she said the oddest thing to me. I’m still trying to figure out what she was talking about.

She thanked me for taking her along to the bar, and said she was looking forward to “getting me yoga-fied” on Saturday. But as she turned to go, she whirled back suddenly, her expression more serious than I‘ve ever seen it.

“About Edward. You should know that he’s been through some stuff. Some really… painful … events.” It was strange hearing the normally mellifluent Alice struggle to find words. “If it seems like he’s pushing you away, he probably is, and I know why. It’s not my place to say any more. Just, please don’t let him discourage you. Promise me you’ll be patient with him, okay? Don’t give up on him. He’s worth it.”

I looked at her pleading hazel eyes and nodded mutely. She suddenly grabbed me in an awkward hug and whispered, “Thanks, Bella.” Then she boarded the boat, turning and giving me a subdued wave before she vanished.

I mulled over her words the entire way home, wondering what on earth had happened to Edward Cullen. I had been entirely right about my suspicions the first time I heard him sing. Maybe when he brought up emotional scars, it was because he had a sizeable one of his own.

I slept fitfully, waking in the middle of the night from a disturbing dream. I was out sailing with Edward, skimming along the pristine waters of Puget Sound on a rare sunny day. As always, the fair weather didn’t last long, and rain clouds soon overtook us, spewing cold needles of liquid down upon the craft. Edward turned the boat around to head back to the shore, and as the vessel keened to one side, I lost my balance and fell overboard. The frigid water engulfed me instantly, its icy fingernails clawing the air from my lungs as I shrieked Edward’s name. He frantically grabbed the life preserver and tossed it to me, hollering for me to grab it so he could pull me back to the safety. I clutched for the ring but kept losing my grip, my numb, wet fingers finding no purchase on the slippery surface.

“Bella!” His ragged voice thundered across the water more loudly than the storm. “Hang on--I won’t lose you, too.”

As he leapt from the boat and swam toward me, a peculiar calm settled over me, even as the choppy water threatened to pull me deeper. I saw Edward coming, and despite the calamity surrounding us, I knew with perfect clarity that everything would be okay. His hands met mine in the water, grasping them firmly. He pulled me in his arms... and I woke up.

I lay staring at the ceiling for a moment, pondering the meaning of the dream with little success. Only one thing about it stood out vividly in my mind as the rest of the illusory drama faded and I slipped into unconsciousness once more.

It was the first time I ever heard Edward Cullen say my name.

Massage Therapy, Chapter 5

Edward Cullen’s Little Black Notebook
Saturday, July 17, 2010

The first thing I did when I got home tonight was go up on the roof and have a cigarette.

I know, I know. You hated it when I smoked. I hate it when I smoke. But sometimes that acrid burn in my chest just feels so fucking good. I’m not sure how filling my lungs with smoke seems to clear my head, but there you go. Just one of life’s ugly little ironies.

If any occasion warrants a slip-up, this is it. I feel like I’m going to come out of my skin and I’m not even sure why. Alice is right--I don’t get this way over women. It just doesn’t happen. I can’t figure out why this girl makes me so self-conscious that I can’t even speak to her like a normal human being.

Actually, that’s not true. I know exactly why. She saw me. Really saw me tonight. It’s one thing for me to let it bleed for a group of strangers I’ll never see again, or for my family who loves me unconditionally. But it’s quite another to have a client see me in such a revealing light.

It’s more than that, of course. It’s the way she sees inside me that scares the hell out of me. It feels like she knows me, somehow. Like all my secrets are laid bare when her eyes bore into mine. I think I could tell her about you, and she’d get it. She’d understand. But I don’t want anyone to get close enough to me to be able to do that. I’m not ready. But the hell of it is, if I’m not ready now, when will I ever be ready?

Alice figured out what was up right away, naturally. I have to hand it to her; she restrained herself admirably after Isabella Swan and her friend left our table tonight. I could see her nearly bursting at the seams, waiting to interrogate me about her as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Unsurprisingly, she attacked me with the fervor of a Tasmanian devil the minute Emmett went to the men’s room.

“You like her!” she squealed, eyes shining triumphantly, as if she had discovered the secrets of the Sphinx.

“Of course, I like her. She’s a nice girl,” I answered with feigned indifference.

“Oh, no. You like her-like her,” she said with innuendo-laden relish.

“Alice, you sound like you’re twelve years old.”

“And you’re acting like it, pushing her away and pretending she annoys you. Edward, I haven’t seen you look at a girl that way since…well, ever, now that I think about it,” she declared. Her eyes grew wide with wonder. “My God, it finally happened… you met a woman who found a chink in your armor! I’ve been praying for this day to arrive, and here it is. Thank you, sweet baby Jesus!” She turned her eyes heavenward and pressed her palms together as if in prayer.

“Put down the crack pipe, Alice. You’re hallucinating. And even if you weren’t, do I need to remind you that she’s a client? That makes her off limits.”

“Edward Cullen, do not tell me you’re going to use ethics as an excuse not to pursue the only girl I’ve seen you look at like a human being in years.”

“I’d lose my license if I hooked up with a customer, and you know it. Or do you not give a damn because it’s not a medical license? You sure as hell wouldn’t encourage Emmett to date a patient,” I spat. “And I’m sure that’s why you waited for him to leave the table before you even brought it up--because you know the whole subject is verboten.”

“I know,” she conceded with a pout. Seconds later, her eyes lit up again. “Send her to Kate for treatment! Then you can ask Bella out.”

“Stop, already,” I sighed, refilling my glass from the pitcher. “I don’t want to send her to Katrina. I know I can help her, and it’s better if Emmett and I work as a team.”

“Okay, fine. Heal her first, and then date her,” she grinned.

I gave her an exasperated glare for what seemed like the tenth time this evening. “You do realize that any of those ideas are considered sexual misconduct for a health practitioner, according to Washington state law,” I reminded her.

“Edward, come o-o-on,” she pleaded. “She’s perfect for you, I can tell. You both love music, and clearly neither of you suffer fools gladly. I love her already because she’s the only girl I’ve ever seen who can make you nervous. This is a first! And by the way, you’re kind of a jerk when you’re nervous. But in a sort of cute, growly way. Like a hibernating bear who’s just been poked with a stick. I think you’re in need of a good poking,” she finished slyly.

I considered denying that Isabella Swan had any effect on me, but there really was no point. My sister knows me better than anyone, and even though she was away at school through most of what went down the past few years, she still knows how I think and how I react to things. We have almost a strange telepathy, as if we can zone in on each other’s brain waves. It makes me want to strangle her half the time, yet it’s comforting it its own weird way.

I definitely couldn’t deny that I’d behaved like a complete jackass when I refused to call Isabella Swan by her nickname, but I knew that the minute I did, I’d fall all the way down the rabbit hole. It would be one more step toward familiarity with her that would only encourage me to want more. If I called her the name that the people closest to her did, I would want to be one of those people. I couldn’t allow myself such a luxury. It was a good thing Alice hadn’t caught that part of my conversation with Ms. Swan, or she never would have let me live it down.

“There’s no point in discussing this, Alice. There can’t be anything between us.”

She let out an irritated sigh. “There already is, you ding-dong. Fighting it is only going to cause heartache for you both.”

“You’re definitely jumping the gun here. I barely know the girl,” I reminded her. “And what makes you think she’s interested in me, anyway? She didn’t even try to sit next to me. She looked like she’d rather be anywhere else than at this table.”

“That’s because she was as nervous as you were. You were like a perfect mirror of each other. She couldn’t stop staring at you. Trust me, I am well-acquainted with the symptoms of those who have fallen under the Edward Cullen spell. But what shocks the hell out of me is that this time, it’s mutual. You are finally getting a taste of your own medicine,” she said gleefully. “I really want to go over there and hand that girl a medal. She just proved that you’re a Real Boy, Edward. With a Real Heart and everything!” She jabbed my left pectoral with her index finger a couple of times for emphasis.

“That’s enough,” I growled at her. “If I’ve been wooden the past few years, you know exactly why.”

She relented then. “I know. But it’s been awhile since I’ve seen anyone get to you. You built a pretty big wall around that heart of yours. I just don’t want it to atrophy in there.”

“Don’t worry. It’s beating just fine,” I assured her. Thankfully Emmett returned then, effectively ending our discussion. Even Alice knew that any breach of conduct in his fledgling chiropractic business would not be taken lightly by our brother. He’s easygoing about most things, but when it comes right down to it, he takes his responsibilities as seriously as I do. He’d be the first one brandishing a butcher knife to emasculate me if I ruined our business partnership by not being able to keep my dick in my pants.

He’s never had any reason to worry about it until now. This is the first time I’ve ever been seriously tempted to break the code of ethics that I’ve sworn to uphold. It isn’t just some physical attraction I feel for Isabella. There’s this nagging emotional undercurrent that tugs at my gut whenever she’s around. I couldn’t keep my eyes from wandering to her table the rest of the night, and I kept hearing her words in my head again, defending her job when she knew how I felt about the recording industry. I mean, I have nothing personal against it, or what she does. It’s just not for me. But I could tell that it pained her to have to reveal her profession to me after the callous way I’d dismissed it. She was probably afraid of offending me. It’s true that at first I felt duped, like she had somehow pulled a fast one on me by showing up tonight with a secret agenda. But I quickly realized that she had no way of knowing I would be there, nor that I like to write and perform music as a hobby. It was pure coincidence that brought us together this way. Or kismet, if I’m to believe a born romantic like Alice.

Either way, I like that she stood up for herself. And by the time she was done describing what music means to her, she had me by the heartstrings, and a few other parts as well. She’s as passionate about it as I am. When she insisted that music could save people, I knew she was talking about herself. To say my curiosity was piqued is an understatement. I’m aching to know what she’s been through that made her say that. I wonder if it had something to do with the car accident. Maybe she wasn’t alone in that car. Maybe something else had happened that day that wounded her more deeply than a back injury ever could.

That’s why I can’t shake the idea that she and I could have something together. That we might be able to help each other. That I could confide in her about what happened with you, and she wouldn’t pity me or judge me like everyone else does. Maybe I could find true empathy with this girl.

But not now. And not in the foreseeable future. At this moment, I have to concentrate on just being her therapist and working on her back next Saturday morning. Nothing more, nothing less. No letting my mind wander to other parts of her body that I can’t touch; no blurting personal questions that I have no right to ask. A little small talk, maybe. But that’s it. Right now, it can only be business---the business of making her better. There’s no point in making any other conjectures beyond that.

Satisfied with my mental pep talk, I decided smoking on the roof was not altogether a bad thing. I took my pack of Camel Lights out of my jeans pocket and peered into its opening under the dim moonlight. I was just about to shake the last cigarette out of the pack when I suddenly felt something warm and heavy brush against my pant leg.

“Fucking rats!” I exclaimed in a rather unmanly tenor as I jumped away from the offending critter. But the pair of glowing yellow eyes that peered up at me were far larger than those of a rodent. A plaintive “meow” soon met my ears, pulling a relieved sigh from my smoky lungs.

“Geezus, cat,” I said, reaching down and giving it a quick scratch behind the ears. “You scared me for a minute. You’re not gonna tell anyone what a pussy I am though, right? I’ll leave that title to you.”

The cat blinked its iridescent eyes at me knowingly, as if to tell me my secret was safe with it.

“What are you doing all the way up here on the roof, anyway? You’ll find dinner a lot easier to catch on the ground floor, or in the basement,” I told the feline as it rubbed back and forth along my legs, probably hoping I’d hand it a snack. I was pretty sure the cat would be plenty well fed with the mice and rats that I constantly fight in this place.

I still can’t believe I convinced Mom to let me live in one of her family’s old buildings in the industrial district. I guess she probably would have given in to just about any request I made back then. Once home to a now-defunct textile mill owned by her ancestors, the rustic brick building had been rented to a number of companies over the years but was now empty. She had planned to sell the property, but when I was looking for my own place after starting Massage School, I convinced her to let me convert part of the upper floor into a spacious apartment. I refinished the hardwood floors myself and waxed them until they shone again with their original luster. I tore out the old drywall to reveal beautiful exposed brick walls beneath. Jazz, Emmett and Dad helped on the weekends, and it was the best therapy I could have had at the time. I sometimes miss getting lost in those kinds of physical tasks--the ones that require too much concentration for me to dwell on the past. I suppose I could build some walls to create more separate rooms, but I like the big, open feel of the place the way it is now. Mom always jokes that I could rent it out as a bowling alley if I want to make some extra money. As it is, I feel blessed that I don’t have to pay rent like most guys my age do.

As I stood contemplating having another cigarette, I looked down at the cat massaging a figure eight around my ankles. It appeared to be a large, long-haired orange tabby, from what I could see under the moon’s pale blue rays. It purred as it rubbed its scent on me, as if that would make me warm up to it and give it something a little more gourmet to eat than water rat.

“I hate cats, you know,” I informed the animal. “I’m not falling for that cuddly routine, so you might as well give up.”

It responded by purring more loudly and pushing its nose ruthlessly against my shin.

I sighed, bent down and gave it another half-hearted scratch behind the ears. “You’re relentless, you know that?” The cat looked up at me with a knowing and expectant look. It was confident it would win this battle.

“Not tonight, you won’t,” I mumbled in answer, giving it a pat on the head before heading for the door to the stairwell. I’d had enough intrusions into my life for one day.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

How did life get so complicated in just one short week?

It started out benignly enough. Work during the day, rehearsals with Jazz in the evening. We were set to play again last night at Billy’s and wanted to change it up a bit, so we tried to learn a couple of each other’s songs. I didn’t think of Isabella Swan once. Well, it would be more accurate to say that whenever the thought of her popped into my misbehaving brain, I was able to squelch it and replace it quickly with something totally unrelated.

It was working quite well until Thursday night, when Alice called to confirm our plans for the next evening. I told her that Katrina wanted to catch our set, and she was planning to bring Victoria with her. Jazz and I had offered to give the girls a lift, and Emmett had agreed to pick up Alice from the ferry and meet us there. Everything sounded fine until Alice had to go and put a bug in my ear.

“Don’t be surprised if a certain pretty brunette shows up, too,” she said portentously.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my stomach dropping. I knew instantly what, or rather whom, she was talking about.

“I told Bella Swan that you were playing at Billy’s tomorrow night,” she replied, her voice brimming with giddy triumph.

“So you didn’t leave your cell phone at the table last Saturday night after all,” I surmised as I remembered her excuse for running back inside the bar after we left. “You went back to talk to Isabella, right?”

“Not everything in the world is about you, you know. I want her to check out Jasper. He’s awesome, and unlike you, he’s not allergic to record companies. If his band gets off the ground, it could be very advantageous knowing someone like Bella.”

“That is not why you told her to come,” I countered. “Shit, Alice, when are you going to stop interfering in my life? I seriously can’t wait until you’re back in school.”

“Whatever,” she said dismissively. “You love me, and you secretly love my match-making. I know you want to see her again. This is your chance to redeem yourself with her in a social setting. You’ll be thanking me by this time tomorrow.”

“Unlikely,” I grumbled. Anxiety began gnawing at the pit of my stomach, and I hated that she was right. I did want to see Isabella Swan again, and though I hadn’t allowed myself to acknowledge it, I’d been looking forward to my next session with her all week.

I tried not to give the idea of seeing her again at Billy’s too much thought, but my subconscious was way ahead of me. It conjured her up in the most delectable dream imaginable that night--not at the bar, but in my bed--and I awoke with a raging hard-on to prove it. The dream was so realistic that my lips were still tingling from the sensation of her mouth on mine, my skin hungry for the warmth of hers. I absently reached down and stroked myself, continuing the dream in my still-murky mind. God, what it would feel like to be inside her, her arms and legs wrapped around me, pulling me deeper….

And like some pathetic teenaged boy, I was reaching for the tissue box minutes later when my busy hand brought my erotic fantasy to its natural conclusion. Immediately after that, I mentally cursed my baby sister for setting in motion what could only be a runaway train headed for disaster. How the hell could I impartially treat a patient who was sparking such vivid sexual fantasies in my mind?

I spent the entire day trying to push those kinds of thoughts out of my head and ignore the anticipation building inside me for that evening at Billy’s. I had no idea what I would say to her if I saw her. But I was going to try like hell to at least be more civil toward the girl than I had been the last time. There was no reason why we couldn’t be friends, I reasoned. Emmett seems to have no problem having platonic relationships with women, or any of his patients, for that matter. It’s always come so easily for him, and I’m not sure why. He’s at least as handsome as I, but with an easy affability about him that I could never quite master. I have yet to meet a woman who wanted to be nothing more than my friend, other than Katrina. I know how arrogant and insufferable that sounds, trust me. But I can’t think of a single friendship I’ve had with a woman that didn’t deteriorate into mixed signals, misunderstandings and hurt feelings one way or another.

The night at the brew pub went well, and the six of us had a good time. My set with Jasper was decent, even though I messed up the lyrics a bit on one of his songs that I don’t know quite well enough yet. Still, I couldn’t help but be disappointed that Isabella didn’t show. I tried not to look at the front door every time it opened and shut, but it was a losing battle. I felt completely keyed up, exactly like I had last weekend when I saw her face in the crowd. And I could have sworn I felt her eyes on me while I was singing, like drops of chocolate melting on my skin; but when I scanned the tables this time, I saw no one familiar.

Shortly after our set, I was almost positive I saw the swing of her long chestnut hair as the bar door closed behind someone who was just leaving. The unnerving tremor that shot down my back at the sight of it seemed proof of her presence. But would she really have avoided talking to me if she had been here tonight? The thought perturbed me more than it should have. I would have to make sure that I made her feel more comfortable at our appointment tomorrow than I had the last time I’d seen her. I was reminded that my attraction to her was a paltry annoyance in light of her medical issues. She needed me to be her therapist, not some drooling lecher.

I felt remarkably calm and focused this morning when the alarm went off early. I was glad I had two appointments before hers; both fairly new clients with issues that forced me to concentrate fully on the task at hand. I had no time to be distracted or apprehensive about seeing her. I was quite Zen about my third and final appointment by the time I’d finished up the paperwork for the second.

All of that went completely out the window the minute I went to the reception area to escort my second client out. There sat Isabella, text-messaging on her phone, a curtain of hair partially obscuring her face. She looked up when she heard my footsteps, the silky curtain falling away; and I tripped and fell right into the well of her dark eyes. Figuratively, of course. But it was unsettling how she seemed to swallow me whole with one glance. I was beginning to wish that Jessica worked on Saturdays so that she could run interference for me.

Isabella smiled somewhat timidly at me, and I realized that Alice was right--the girl was as nervous around me as I was her. Somehow that knowledge was all I needed to relax a little and give her a smile in return.

I’ll be right with you, Miss Swan,” I told her. “I just need to prepare the room.” I hated how insufferably formal I sounded. Why couldn’t I say her nickname? I couldn’t even think it to myself. It felt like the only plug in a dam that was ready to crumble with the slightest breach.

“That’s fine,” she answered quickly, her anxious expression easing. I reminded myself that there was no reason for us to be so uptight around each other. The tension would only be detrimental to her treatment. It was my job to make sure she felt at ease around me. How I felt was immaterial.

After I retreated to fit the massage table with clean bedding, I went back to the reception area and put my gentlest smile to work on Ms. Swan.

“How are you feeling today?” I asked her. “Have you had any problems this past week?”

“No, not really,” she replied, putting her phone away and rising from her chair. “I do feel a little stiff and achy in spots, I guess. It kind of feels like my back wants to go back to the way it was before you and Emmett worked on me.”

“Unfortunately, that’s probably exactly what’s happening,” I said, motioning for her to lead the way down the hall to the massage room. I scrutinized her gait as she walked ahead of me, and I could see that her hips were still out of alignment.

I continued, “That’s why I’ll need to see you regularly for awhile. Emmett can manipulate your bones easily enough, but your muscles will take longer to adjust. That’s where I come in.”

She stopped and turned to look up at me expectantly after entering the massage room. I tried not to dwell on how pretty she looked, bare-faced and unpretentious in her casual t-shirt, jeans and flip-flops.

“When’s your next appointment with Emmett?” I questioned her, forcing my mind to stay on track.

“The middle of next week,” she replied. She gave me a quizzical look, a tiny line forming between her dainty brows.

“That’s good,” I told her. “I’m going to check my appointment book to see if I can fit you in right before or after, if that will work with your schedule.”

“Sure,” she agreed with a nod. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” I answered smoothly, not wanting to alarm her. “I just think you shouldn’t wait too long for your next adjustment, that’s all.”

“Why?” she demanded, the crease in her forehead deepening.

“Well, your hips are still a little ‘off,’” I explained, taking a tentative step closer. I took a deep breath and placed my hands below her tiny waist, gingerly pressing with my thumbs until I found the edges of her hipbones through her jeans. I thought I heard a small gasp escape her lips, which I tried desperately not to acknowledge.

“Your right hip is a little too high, while the left is turned forward a bit,” I continued. I pressed carefully where the problem areas were, trying to show her what I was talking about. “I suspect your leg length is off, and possibly your tailbone is tilted. This explains a lot of the muscle twists that I felt in your back last week. All your soft tissues are compensating for the misalignment. That’s why I want to work with Emmett as a team to try to get you straightened out. Literally,” I added with a soft chuckle, reluctantly releasing her from my grip.

She let out an unconvincing laugh, but her brow refused to unfurl. “Wow, it’s a miracle I’m still walking around upright,” she mumbled as her eyes drifted dejectedly to the floor. A lock of hair fell over her face, and I fought the urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear.

“The body has amazing ways of compensating to keep you going,” I told her. “But it also has an amazing power to heal itself. Don’t worry, Isabella… we’re going to get you back in fighting form, I promise. It won’t happen overnight, but it will happen.”

She smiled and nodded, but still looked unconvinced. Then and there, I made it my personal mission to take away her doubt and erase the worry from her lovely face.

“Are you ready to get started?” I asked. She bit her lip as she nodded again. I watched the pink deepen in her lower lip as she finally released it, and I wondered idly how it would taste.

Fucking hell.

I cleared my throat and glanced at the chair, the wall, the fresh flannel sheet draped over the massage table--anything but her.

“I’ll leave you to get ready. I want you to lie on your back this time so you don’t get queasy. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I said hurriedly before leaving the room. No way in hell was I going to tell her to undress and leave her shirt and jeans on the chair, or give her the option of leaving on her bra. None of the things I usually said to clients seemed benign anymore. Any mention of her disrobing so that I could touch her had taken on a lurid undertone in my mind, tainted by my own desires that were stirring from the depths of my soul like the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

I wanted her. The fact was impossible to deny any longer. I tried to come to grips with the inescapable truth as I washed my hands thoroughly in the bathroom, my fingers flexing in anticipation of caressing her smooth skin for the next hour. So you’re attracted to her…so what? I argued with myself. You can still do your job and leave her none the wiser.

I really didn’t have any choice. It wasn’t like the girl could read my mind, anyway. I could keep my thoughts to myself and still be an effective therapist. I took a deep breath and went back to the massage room, rapping gently on the door.

“Come in,” came the muffled reply. I entered the door and closed it softly behind me, looking warily over to the table. She lay looking up at me with those big, dark eyes, the sheet pulled up to her neck, her bare arms clasped atop the flannel over her stomach. I swallowed hard and stealthily approached the table, as if she were a fawn that I might scare away with any sudden sound or movement.

Her eyes didn’t leave mine until I made my way to the back of the table and stood behind her. “I’m going to begin with your neck and shoulders. We’ll see how Emmett’s adjustments are holding.”

“Okay,” she agreed, closing her eyes. I wound my fingers through the silk of her hair, stretching them along the base of her skull in examination. Her neck was out again already. I held my tongue and worked on the muscles surrounding the misaligned bones instead, willing them to relax and unwind. I felt my own body following suit, for I was now in my element.

I soon got lost in the work, as I always do. The apprehension and confusion of the past week disappeared. There was only her flesh and mine now; her body’s will dissolving under that of my insistent fingers. It may be hard to believe, but in that moment, there was nothing sexual about what I was doing to her. It was the most sensual experience in the world, but in the most compassionate, healing sense of the word. I felt her yielding to me more thoroughly with every touch, and yet I was the one who felt powerless. Her body was the guide; I simply followed and straightened the path of her twisted muscles as I went.

We barely spoke. When I slid my hands under her right shoulder blade, she tried to move her arm out of the way; I murmured for her not to worry, that I would do all the work. She relaxed and let my fingers probe along her spine and ribs, and I noted to myself that Emmett would have to do more work here as well. I slowly stretched and pulled her contracted flesh, working from her spine outward. I then repeated the procedure on her left side, and it responded more readily to the suggestion of my hands. Her muscles were still somewhat resistant to the therapy, and I knew it would take a few more sessions until her body got used to being “told” what to do. It would help immensely when her bones began to stay in alignment better, too.

I realized that I hadn’t reset the sound machine, and I wondered if music would help Isabella loosen up a bit.

“Would you rather listen to something else than the ocean sounds?” I asked her softly, taking a short break and allowing my gaze to rest on her adorable freckled nose a moment. Then her eyes opened and arrested my attention completely.

“No, it’s fine. I like the beach. It’s relaxing,” she assured me.

“I know the sound machine is a little hokey, but it works,” I shrugged with a half-grin. “I can switch to music though, if you’d like.”

She shook her head. “I’m good, really. Is there something wrong? Am I not responding the right way?” The wrinkle took up residence between her eyebrows again.

“No, you’re improving, honestly. I don’t want you worry about that. I want you to relax completely, if possible. Imagine a place or a time that always made you feel happy, and concentrate on that,” I suggested. “I’m going to try to work on your lower back just a little, so be sure to tell me if anything feels uncomfortable. If you feel the slightest pinch or twinge, tell me immediately, okay?”

“I will,” she promised. I tore my eyes away from hers and moved to her right side again, sliding my hands under the middle of her back and beginning the slow push and pull to unravel her twists. I could feel her eyes on me, and I was surprised that she hadn’t closed them.

“Edward?” she began. “I just want you to know that whatever you’re doing feels like it’s working. It feels…amazing.”

That moment of hesitation as she searched for the right word nearly did me in. The sexual charge that crackled through me was the first time during the session that I had lost focus and blurred the line between the sensual and the sexual. Because in that split second, I realized that as much as I wanted to make her feel healed and whole again, more than that I wanted to make her feel complete euphoria, delirium, ecstasy. “Amazing” didn’t begin to cover what I wanted her to feel at my hands.

I replied simply, “I’m glad,” then quickly pursed my lips together before anything incriminating could pop out. I avoided her gaze and concentrated on what I was doing. At last she closed her lids and gave me some peace. Her body began to relax more and more as I worked, and I wondered if she was concentrating on something that brought her joy, like I told her to. Whatever she was thinking about, it was working.

I was very careful not to massage her lower back too deeply, because frankly, Emmett needs to do a lot more work there first. I was so absorbed in trying to unwind the knots I found there that I didn’t notice her wince.

“Edward,” she finally whispered. “I feel kind of a weird…pulling across my tailbone.”

“That’s my cue to stop, then,” I announced. I quit immediately and pulled my hands out from under her hips, accidentally brushing the edge of her panties as I did so. Lace. That was a little surprising. She seemed like a cotton boy-shorts kind of girl. I really, really didn’t need to imagine what her panties looked like, though of course the picture appeared in my head instantaneously. Every new detail I learned about her startled and confounded me, and I hated how appealing that was.

“You did very well today. I think we made a lot of progress. Your muscles became more and more responsive, which is a very good thing. Did you go to your ‘happy place’ like I suggested?” I asked with a short laugh.

She smiled a little, but her eyes were serious as she regarded me. “I did,” she said quietly. Something in her gaze made me hope that her ‘happy place’ had something to do with me. Then I mentally chided myself for such stupid wishful thinking and self-consciously raked my fingers through my hair.

“Do you feel better this time than the last? You’re not sick, are you?”

“No, I feel fine,” she insisted, though she had told me that last week, too.

“Do you need my help getting up?” I asked again, just to be sure.

“No, I’m good. Honestly,” she added, obviously seeing the uncertainty on my face.

“Okay. Just holler if you need me. You can come out to the reception desk whenever you’re ready.”

I picked up her files and left the massage room, closing the door gently behind me. I let out a ragged sigh of relief, again wondering why it was such an ordeal to treat this girl. On the one hand, the myofascial work itself was engrossing, and her issues were complicated. I usually welcomed a challenge like that. But so many feelings other than the urge to heal were fighting within me that I felt drained when our hour was up.

I was standing at the reception counter, making notes in her file when I heard her approach. She stopped across the counter from me and asked, “What do I owe you for today?”

I blinked at her for a moment, and was tempted to tell her it was on the house. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s see if your insurance will cover it first, okay?”

“I don’t think it will, but thanks,” she said, looking a little relieved. Then her brows knitted again and she stared at the countertop for a moment before raising her anxious eyes to mine. Her next words poured out in a rush.

“Edward, about last weekend at Billy’s… I just want you to know that I wasn’t trying to railroad you or anything. I had no idea that you were a musician, and I would never dream of trying to convince you to record your music. I completely understand where you’re coming from, feeling like you’d be selling out or giving up something that’s personal and special to you. I totally respect that. I just hope you don’t hold it against me.” She let out a long breath when she was done, and her shoulders slumped as if she had just dropped a giant weight from them.

I was stunned for a second, mouth agape. I couldn’t believe she had been so worried about something I’d barely given a second thought.

“Of course I don’t,” I answered quickly. “I mean, I admit that at first it seemed a little suspect, but I realized right away that you had no way of knowing that I would be there singing that night. I’m just sorry if I sounded like I don’t approve of your job. Nothing could be further from the truth. If you saw my music collection or my iPod, you’d know just how much I appreciate what you do.”

She appeared to be relieved, and I felt that way myself. “That’s good,” she said. “ I was afraid that you thought I orchestrated the whole evening or something. It really was just a coincidence, seeing you there. But…,” she paused to bite her lip, “I’m glad I did. You were great.”

I can’t adequately describe the sensation that spread through my chest at those three little words, spoken in her quiet alto, her soft brown eyes gazing up at mine. Somehow her compliment carried more weight now, alone together in this silent office, than it did last week in the noisy bar.

“Thank you,” I answered softly, my voice sounding thick. I cleared my throat, adjusted my reading glasses and decided to stick a toe out over the ledge. “I thought maybe I’d see you there again last night.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open a little as she inhaled sharply. I could see that she was unsure how to respond. I couldn’t stand even the tiny bit of panic in her eyes, so I let her off the hook.

“Alice mentioned that she told you Jasper and I would be there,” I explained at last. “I think she wanted you to hear him play. She’s got a little crush on him and wants to help him out.”

“Oh, right,” she said with a short laugh. “I, uh… actually, I was there, but I couldn’t stay long. I had another commitment.”

“Oh,” I replied, wondering if that last part was really true. “I didn’t see you. You should have come over and said ‘hi.’”

“Well, you looked pretty busy. I didn’t want to intrude.” She suddenly looked terribly unsure of herself.

I shook my head, bewildered. “You wouldn’t have been intruding. It was just Emmett, Alice and some friends of mine.” I paused until her eyes met mine again. “Isabella, I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t talk to me.”

I hated the doubt that still lingered on her face, so I took one last, unwise stab at making her believe that I was sincere. “I liked what you said about how music can save people. I believe that completely. Maybe that’s something that you and I have in common.”

There it was--that quiet desperation in her eyes; the haunted look I had recognized the first time I looked into their depths. “Well, it definitely saved me. Still does, every day, one way or another,” she admitted.

Finally, the opening I’d been hoping for. “I want to ask you about something, but you don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to.”

She looked more curious than alarmed. “Shoot,” she said simply.

I took a deep breath and tried to choose my words carefully. “Your medical records show that you got your injuries in a car accident when you were a teenager. I'm just wondering...did something else happen that day? Something that left…an emotional scar?”

The alarm came then, her eyes widening and her body stiffening. My arrow had hit the mark, and I winced at her pain. Then, suddenly, her face went blank, as if she had just shut the door on whatever memory I had evoked. Her defense mechanisms were just as effective as mine. The realization only served to make me hungry for answers, and more determined to get to the truth about her. I had the feeling it was the key to unlocking and unraveling the pain that held her twisted flesh captive.

She appeared as if she were searching for a reply when the sound of the front door opening behind her caught her attention. I looked up to see Katrina, long and lean in her tennis dress, probably coming to see what was holding me up. A glance at the clock told me I was fifteen minutes late meeting her at the coffee shop around the corner, where we had planned to grab a light lunch before our Saturday match.

“Hey, Edward!” she said brightly, flashing a toothy smile. Her eyes took in my frustrated expression, then shifted to Isabella’s pained one, and her smile faded. “Sorry if I interrupted something. I just thought I’d see if you were running late. I can wait outside.”

I sighed and said, “No, it’s fine. Ms. Swan and I were just finishing up here.” We all exchanged awkward looks, so I filled the silence with introductions. “Isabella, this is a good friend of mine, Katrina Denali. Katrina, this is my newest client, Isabella Swan.”

“Hi,” Katrina said warmly, stepping closer and holding her hand out to Isabella’s. “Nice to meet you. You can call me Kate.”

“Of course,” my client responded, giving me a short but pointed glance as she shook Kate’s hand. “You can call me Bella.”

Katrina caught her meaning and let out a hearty laugh. “I think Edward is allergic to nicknames. Emmett must have called him ‘Eddie’ one too many times as a kid.”

I gave her a withering smile and grabbed my brother’s appointment book to see when he had Isabella scheduled, then compared it to mine. I was booked and wouldn’t be able to treat her that day. As I looked through my schedule, I realized next Saturday would be the soonest I could see Miss Swan again unless I had a cancellation.

“I won’t be able to schedule your appointment until a week from today. Will that work for you?” I asked her.

“Sure, that’s fine,” she replied in a subdued voice, avoiding my gaze. I must have gone too far, asking her what had happened to her. She looked like she couldn’t wait to leave.

I filled out the appointment reminder card and handed it to her. She quickly stuck it in her back pocket, mumbled “Thanks,” and zoomed around Katrina like the card had caught her pants on fire. The door was still swinging shut as my “See you next week” trailed off behind her.

Kate let out a low whistle. “What was that all about?” she inquired, leaning over the counter on her elbows.

“Nothing. I’m just trying to get to the root of her problems, that’s all,” I said as I put the appointment books away.

“Edward, you aren’t disobeying our Golden Rule, are you?” she asked in a warning tone. “No personal questions, right?”

“I just think that if she could talk about the car accident that made her end up this way, I could make a lot more progress with her,” I insisted.

She scrutinized my face a moment. “Are you trying to convince me of that, or yourself?”

“Neither. I know half of her problems stem from emotional pain as well as physical,” I said matter-of-factly as I fished my keys out of my pocket.

“You know that, huh? For a fact?” she asked skeptically as I escorted her out the door and locked it behind us.

“I can just tell,” I shrugged. “I can feel it in her body. I can see it in her eyes. Don’t you ever trust your intuition with your customers?”

“Sure, to a point,” she replied as we headed down the street. “But I think you’re asking for trouble if you’re making those kinds of assumptions about someone you’re treating. Especially if you’re starting to care a little too much about her…?”

I ignored her curiosity as we turned the corner and reached the entrance of the café. I opened the door for her and followed her in, then pretended to be consumed with studying the menu on the blackboard over the counter even though I knew it by heart.

“Edward, please tell me you aren’t going there with that girl,” Kate said reproachfully. She then turned to the barista and ordered a vegan sandwich and iced tea, allowing me to once again dodge her queries. But, much like Alice, I knew she wouldn’t let it go. I ordered a Panini and a plain black coffee to clear my head, and we sat at a nearby table to wait for our food. Kate started in on me immediately.

“I saw the way you were looking at her. I almost didn’t recognize you--you’re such a cool customer most of the time. I’ve never seen you so…un-cool,” she teased. “Maybe even a little hot and bothered. That’s a new one,” she grinned.

“God, not you too,” I muttered under my breath, taking a sip of my coffee.

“Excuse me?”

“You and my sister both. You seem to have some weird delusions about my feelings for Isabella Swan. She has some serious physical issues, and I want to help her. It’s as simple as that.”

“So Alice saw it, too. That little preoccupied gleam in your eyes. You’re invested in her. You don’t do that with people very often. Can’t say I blame you,” she sighed.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything stupid,” I told her, and this time, I was trying to convince myself as well as her. “I wouldn’t do that to Emmett, for one thing. And for another, I worked hard to get my shit together. I’m not about to blow it by getting involved with a client.”

Katrina studied me for a moment, idly stirring her straw in her tea glass. “It’s too bad that’s how you met. It’s nice to see you actually interested in a girl, even if you keep telling yourself it’s only professional.”

I gave her an annoyed look, which only made her grin. “Well, hopefully, she won’t be your client forever, right? And if you want, you can always refer her to me. I’d be happy to help her, and help you in the process.”

Kate was sincere in her offer, and in her wish to help me. I know that much is true. But some perversely selfish part of me wants to be the one to help Isabella Swan. Is it so wrong to want to be someone’s savior instead of destroyer?

I thanked Katrina for the offer but assured her I had things under control. I then less-than-subtly changed the subject and asked her how her job was going. She works for a spa that specializes primarily in relaxation massage methods, but she still does some more intensive therapy work like I do. She said business is pretty good, but still suffering a bit from the slow economy. When times are tough, only the elite few can afford to pamper themselves.

I must admit that I feel a little guilty about having been one of those few my entire life. My parents aren’t swimming in cash, but they certainly aren’t hurting, either. Mom comes from “old money,” by Pacific Northwest standards, anyway. The Platts built their fortune from the logging industry in the mid-1800s, as many immigrants to the west did back in the day. Her ancestors later turned to timber milling, and even branched out into textiles and a few other sundry goods as the area boomed. Most of the family business was eventually sold off, and my grandparents, and now my mom Esme, have managed to make a tidy income off of some wise investments, most recently in technology.

Dad’s no slouch, either, though he comes from much more humble middle-class beginnings. He always jokes that if he hadn’t become a doctor, Mom’s family never would have allowed him to marry their daughter. That’s patently untrue. Carlisle Cullen is the type man who always knows the right thing to say or do, in any given situation. He could charm the habit off of a nun, if he had the mind to, which of course he never would. I often tell him he should go into politics, except that he’s too honest.

But it’s Mom’s connections that get me membership at the Seattle Tennis Club. Usually a place filled with yuppie douchebags is the last place you’ll ever find me; but the tennis courts and amenities are so awesome that I can never pass up the chance to use them. Katrina loves it. I usually have a hard time dragging her out of the hot tubs after our match.

Today was no exception, but I was kind of enjoying relaxing by the pool myself. The only problem was that I started imagining what it would be like if I brought Isabella here. We could hang out on the beach and maybe go boating. I wondered if she’d like that. I wondered what she’d look like in a bikini. Then I got irritated with myself and once again made Kate leave before she was ready.

“Damn it, Edward, when are you ever going to learn to relax?” she grumped as she threw on her cover-up and collected her duffel bag. “If I had membership here, I’d never leave. You keep telling me how great the food is, but we never stay long enough to have dinner.”

“Sorry, I have some errands I need to run,” I told her. “Besides, I have to keep testing you to see if you’re only friends with me because I can get you in here. Maybe next week we should use some municipal courts instead, just to keep things interesting.”

She laughed and answered, “That’s fine by me. You know I don’t really give a shit about this kind of stuff. But the tennis club perks do sweeten the deal a little. Especially when you’re in one of your moods.”

I ignored that last remark, because she’s put up with a lot of crap from me over the past couple of years. She’s the only one who knows the ugly details of what happened between you and me. I had to tell someone, and I didn’t want to burden my family with that. So Kate has put up with a lot, to put it mildly.

I drove her back to our medical complex to get her car, then stopped at the market for some groceries on the way home. I’m a completely crappy cook, but I hate living on fast-food and take-out, so I make the attempt every now and then.

I can only blame armfuls of groceries for the fact that I didn’t see the cat run in the front door of my building when I unlocked it. I also managed to miss it following me to the service elevator. Only when I felt its thick tail brush up against my shin as the elevator’s noisy gears carried us upward did I realize there was another living thing besides me in the confined space.

I let out another rather unmanly sound until I realized that I was not trapped with some giant rat as I feared. The cat was already too busy trying to poke its nose in my grocery bags to acknowledge my high-pitched curse.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you smell something good in there,” I grunted at it. “If you think I’m giving you any of that fresh salmon, you’ve got another thing coming.”

The cat meowed plaintively, clearly not happy with my mandate.

“I’m not letting you in my place, either. You’re probably infested with fleas.”

Sad, round, yellow eyes peered up at me before the nose-rubbing on my leg commenced.

“Geezus H….” I muttered as the elevator opened directly in front of my door. There was basically no place for the animal to go unless I escorted it back down on the elevator or threw it out the window onto the fire escape. I sighed as I unlocked the door, knowing that the cat would race inside before I could possibly stop it. It investigated every corner of the loft with the thoroughness of a health inspector while I put away the groceries. Apparently satisfied that nothing was beneath its standards, it approached me with a loud yowl that I was pretty sure had something to do with the fish.

What I did next might surprise you. Or maybe not. I’m never sure how well you knew me. I grilled the salmon with some lemon, garlic and black pepper like I always do. But I threw a bit of it to the cat before I did. I know it will never leave now. I knew it the minute I did it.

“I think I should call you Isabella,” I told it, giving it a grudging scratch or two behind the ears as it begged at the table. “I didn’t want you or need you in my life. But here you are. Now what do I do with you?” I mused softly as the cat purred contentedly.

“Before I name you, I’d better check something,” I told it, grabbing its tail and taking a quick look underneath. The furry evidence of his manhood was still intact. “I guess ‘Isabella’ is out, then. I don’t think she would have appreciated that anyway.”

I tossed a tiny piece of the fish down to him, which he gobbled greedily off the glossy floor. “I should have figured you for a tomcat, anyway, as big as you are,” I said idly. “You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you outside yet. Get ready for it, because you are not spending the night in here. At least not until I’m satisfied you’re not crawling with lice or something.”

He looked up at me with ravenous eyes, as if the bits of fish I’d already given him were simply a tease. I threw him another morsel and admonished, “This is the last one. After that it’s canned tuna fish. And that’s only until I can get back to the store and get you some cat food.”

He seemed satisfied with that, as he commenced with the leg-rubbing again. He certainly was an affectionate cat. Or maybe just a desperately lonely one.

“I guess I could call you Tom,” I told him with a laugh. “Tom Cat. That’s fairly unoriginal, though, isn’t it?” I thought for a moment, and then realized I’d already named him.

“Lucky,” I said, “welcome to your new home. As long as you keep the vermin out, we might be able to work out an arrangement.”

He looked up at me through narrowed slits, his expression one of superlative wisdom. Or possibly that of the cat who just swallowed the canary, I’m not sure which.

“I know, I’m a sucker,” I sighed, allowing another ear scratch to turn into a long stroke down his back and along his thick, bushy tail. “But who knows? Maybe I’ll turn out to be the lucky one this time.”

Lucky purred and gave me another slit-eyed, shrewd gaze. We both knew I wasn’t talking about him.