Genre: Angst (always with the angst)
Short summary: Part Two of Unobtainable.
Any warnings: Mild Breaking Dawn Spoiler. I’m torturing everyone. Suggestive. Unbetaed. For conversation: “speaking” ‘thinking’. There will be a Part 3, at least.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters; I'm just playing with them.
Emmett had done a good job keeping his mind busy. He was alone on the driveway, working under the hood of his jeep. Concentrating on the finding the reasons for the mysterious rattle.
Not thinking of her, anything but her, and the night when he’d finally given in to his weakness. Rather than destroy his obsession, it only fed it. He never expected her to respond well to her husband’s brother kissing her. He definitely didn’t expect her response. She pulled him into her, kissed him deeply. It had nearly been his undoing when she moaned into his mouth as he pressed his body against hers. Bella hadn’t stopped him. She should have pushed him away, slapped him, something other than encourage his compulsive need. His conscience won in the end and he had pulled away from her, tortured.
A sour note from the piano was the only indication that things had suddenly become more complicated.
‘Damn’ was the only thought he had when Edward appeared abruptly, scowling at him. “Edward, what?” Emmett started but his brother held up his hand. Edward’s lips didn’t appear to move but the words were clear, “My wife. When?”
As it dawned on him, exactly, what he was talking about Emmett slowly looked away. He couldn’t meet his brother’s, now condemning, glare. There was no point in lying now. He’d never intended for Edward to find out. ‘Does it really matter when?’ he reasoned. After a few seconds Emmett realized that Edward wasn’t going let it go, whispered reluctantly, “Last month.”
Edward turned away from him, and then he was gone. Bella appeared from nowhere and raced past him, disappearing into the trees. He let her go after him; didn’t even try to stop her, fight for her. It was foolish to even think it, not that he didn’t.
Instead, he turned back into the house and took the stairs three at a time, bellowing, “ALICE? WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?”