Caught in the Flames

Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Seven

As always, none of this is mine. I'm just the perv who want to make our beloved Twilight characters swear, drink, and go at it like horny rabbits. This story will be a combination of love, suspense, some violence and steamy, sweaty sex.

Chapter 157

EPOV

"For a girl who hates pink, this is a lot of pink," Emmett said as he pulled the baby bedding out of the laundry basket, draping it over the crib.

"It's not baby pink. Bella was adamant that we not have baby pink in the nursery. It's bright, obnoxious and fun," I replied, hanging a purple, fuchsia and teal mobile above the crib. The walls had been painted a bright lilac with white wooden furniture and a chevron, polka dot crib set that was the same colors as the mobile with a dash of marigold yellow. The curtains were a sheer pink and yellow gingham, pulling it all together. When Bella first mentioned it, I was hesitant, but she created a mockup on her computer with a design program. Much to my surprise, I liked it. It was perfect for our little Marie Felicity Cullen.

"It's definitely different," Emmett responded. He moved the crib out of the way and gently tapped up the handmade letters spelling Marie's name on the wall. They were hand painted by my best friend to match the bedding. "I'm surprised that Bella had any say at all, really. Your mom and sister seemed pretty insistent on helping her design the nursery."

"Bella put her foot down. Initially, she wanted control over the wedding, but decided that our child's nursery was more important. This is far more permanent. Our wedding is just one day and while I have no doubts it will be memorable, I'd rather focus my attention on this," I shrugged, spinning the mobile. "Bella wants to get married and she trusts my mom, Leah and Alice to make those decisions. Bella chose a dress and gave them a list of colors that she wanted, setting them loose on the vineyard where we're having our ceremony and wedding reception. All we need to do is get the marriage license and show up on October seventeenth at 3pm, wearing our attire. Speaking of which, has Alice called you about your suit?"

He nodded, rolling his eyes. "I'm meeting her after my next shift to get measured by Pablo," he said.

"Pedro, Emmett. Alice's friend's name is Pedro," I snickered.

"Aaaaaaaand, that takes balls. Having someone plan your wedding?" Emmett snorted, pushing the crib back and beginning to make it. "I remember when Rose and I were talking about marriage, she was threatening on being a bridezilla. A complete control freak."

"Rose ... now there's a name I haven't heard in a while. How is she?" I asked, sitting down in the glider in the corner, grimacing as I leaned back. I had had a setback in my recovery after our night where I made love to her as best as I could. After I heard her mumble the name 'James' in her sleep. The stab wound in my lower abdomen had gotten infected. I thought the pain I was experiencing was just the muscles healing, but when Bella said that the wound felt very warm to the touch and I spiked a fever. I was rushed to the hospital. I was readmitted for three days to get some heavy duty IV antibiotics. The doctor who performed my surgery was shocked that it had taken so long for the infection to present itself, but nevertheless, I was diagnosed as being septic. After the round of medications, I was finally recovering. Slowly. Subsequently, I was weak as a newborn kitten and tired easily.

It frustrated me to no end. I felt so helpless. Useless. Weak.

Emmett's voice broke me from my pity party as he sadly spoke of his ex-girlfriend. "Not good, honestly. When you were in the hospital last week, I ran into Irina at the cafeteria," Emmett grimaced, mentioned my ex-fiancée. I wrinkled my nose at her name. "Rose's cancer has spread and there is nothing that could be done. Irina has been made medical power of attorney and last I heard, Rose was being moved into hospice care."

"Oh, Em. I'm so sorry," I frowned. "Is there anything I can do?"

He shook his head, putting a stuffed bear onto Marie's bed. It was big, brown, and floppy with a satiny purple bow. "I'm sorry that she's going through this. Though, I don't know how to feel. I loved her at one point, but that ship sailed when she ..." He pinched his nose and scrubbed his hands in his short curls. "Is it bad that I don't feel anything?"

"I don't think it's bad or good. Rose hurt you and hurt people around you. Is it bad that she's dying of cancer? Absolutely. Should you feel residual guilt? No. You're not the one who got her sick," I said, smiling softly at my best friend.

He shrugged, caressing the bear's nose. "I don't know, man. I was with her for so long. I thought we were destined for each other, but she changed irrevocably and now, she's dying of cancer." He turned to me, his eyes contemplative. Blowing out a breath, he shook his head, "I had fun with Jet, that makeup artist, but she was into some kinky shit."

"And you're not into kinky shit?" I asked, arching a brow. I remembered walking into Emmett and Rose in various locations of the station. They were quite the exhibitionistic pair. And very, very loud. To hear that Emmett was anti-kinky shit was a bit of a shock.

"Not like her. Jet was into bondage and submission and blindfolds and whipping," Emmett shuddered. "Ugh, the whipping. Not my idea of a good time. I prefer to show a woman that she should be cherished. You know? Not get the piss whipped out of me by a flogger."

"Wait, she hit you?" I snorted.

"At first, it was hot. I mean, she got so fucking turned on and Jet was ..." he trailed off, licking his lips. "But, when I came home after a brutal night with her covered in bruises, I told her that I was not into that shit. I'm not her personal torture device. Garrett thought that I was injured with the way I was moving. When I told him that my fuck buddy beat the crap out of me, he laughed and then threatened to call the police for assault."

"I'd probably do the same," I deadpanned, grimacing as I struggled to get comfortable in the glider.

"Okay, enough work for you," Emmett said, offering his hand to help me out of the chair. "You're pale, paler than normal. You need to eat and then take more of your meds."

"You're worse than Bella," I said, taking his hand and standing up uneasily.

"Why do you think she called me?" Emmett quipped, helping me down the stairs and to the kitchen. "Bella wanted me to take care of you while she addressed some things at the office."

"What? She should be resting," I hissed. "Dr. Popper doesn't want her on her feet!"

"Jacob and Peter are pampering her. Besides, Bella wanted to get away from you, Mr. Grumpy Pants," Emmett laughed. My eyes widened. I had been a grouch. I'm like most men. When I got sick, I got pissy, ornery and downright mean. I had made Bella cry more times that I had cared to admit. I tried to apologize, but Bella blamed her hormones on being overly sensitive. "Edward, I know that you're frustrated at the setback. I know that you are also an asshole when you're sick. Couple that with a hormonal and precariously pregnant fiancée, it's a recipe for disaster."

"She must hate me," I said, looking at the wood grain of the kitchen table.

"No, she doesn't. She knows that you're in pain and she feels as helpless as you in not being able to make you feel better," Emmett explained. "Just give her the day. Jacob and Peter know what to look for if she doesn't feel well. Even Leah is going to check on her while she's out."

"I just worry. According to Detective Halsted and Sergeant Voight, James is still out there. Bella, after she went wedding dress shopping, had nightmares that James was following her. Ever since then, for almost two weeks, she hasn't been sleeping well because of those same nightmares," I said. "He could be following her right now. If something happens to her or to Marie ..."

"Edward, I know that you're concerned, but we've got it covered," Emmett soothed, placing a meaty hand on my shoulder.

"That does little to assuage my fears, Em," I said flatly. "The only thing that will allow me to truly not be concerned is James' body on a slab in the morgue."

Now, if only I knew a way to do it. Damn. It.

A/N: A picture of Marie's nursery is on my Facebook page, my blog and my tumblr. Links for the latter two are in my profile. You can also find me on twitter, too: tufano79. What should happen to James? When will he rear his ugly head? Leave me some lovin!