Chapter 45: London Calling

Chapter 45: London Calling

So…you can probably guess what my answer was.  After sitting there in shock for about an hour or 12, I realized that the whole tirade and most likely everything from that whole morning had been about this and not about the actual plane ride.  It made sense in an odd-Rob way.  That he’d be more afraid of asking me to marry him (officially—that other crap time does not count no matter what the fuck he says) than getting on a flying death trap.  And after working this through in my mind and realizing it was all rather sweet and bumbling-ly British-ly totally Pattinson-ly, I also realized he really might like an answer instead of a blank stare.  Pattinson-ly should totally become a new adjective.  We make up new ones all the time; it should totally become a part of the dictionary.  

So I smiled, and realized I was quite choked up to the point of a few tears leaking out, and I reached out and let my palm rest on his cheek, my thumb running over the highly defined cheekbones I loved so much, and took a deep, steadying breath and answered, “Yes, I’ll marry you.  But you really have to shut up about the different ways the plane may crash; I think you’re scaring the other passengers.”

He laughed at me and launched himself into my seat, his hands immediately on my face as his mouth met mine.  His kiss was deliberate and a little bit desperate, because his whole life rested on my answer of yes or no.  I could have been really, really mean and told him I had to think about it, but the joy on his face when he heard just the yes erased all thoughts of that from my mind.  I doubt he even heard my sly admonishment about the crashing thing.  He kissed me so long and so deeply that I sort of forgot we were even on the plane.  A short throat-clearing made us both stop and Rob backed up a bit as he turned and I leaned to see the stewardess who talked to us before standing there.  

“Congratulations, and I really hate to have to tell you this, but you really have to stay in your seat yet and buckle your seatbelt.  The Captain hasn’t turned the seatbelt sign off yet and we haven’t reached our cruising altitude.  So I’m sorry, but you’ll have to sit back in your seat, sir.”

I snorted and Rob smirked at me as he sat back down. “My apologies,” he said.  

After the stewardess left us again, he was smiling at me happily—actually blissfully might be a better description.  And I had yet to get the ring.  So bliss or not, I wanted the damn ring.  

“So do I actually get the ring then, or was that just for show?” I teased.

“Oh,” he said sheepishly, and quickly turned to put it on my finger.  It fit perfectly, which was surprising; I had very small fingers.  I raised a single eyebrow at him.  “Don’t ask how I got the size,” he said shaking his head.  “But I wanted it to be perfect…”  He looked down at it with me.  “Do you like it?”

I smiled wryly. “Yes, Rob, it’s beautiful.”

He nodded. “Good.  You know truthfully, she could have been coming over here to tell me the plane was going to crash, I couldn’t have cared less at the time.”

I chuckled, and patted his cheek, “You really need to keep quiet about the whole plane crash thing.  People get nervous.  They’re going to think you’re a terrorist who’s creating an international incident.”

“’Twilight star flips out on plane: Says all planes will crash,’” he said grinning.

“Something like that, yes.”  It was funny—I think both of us had missed the entire takeoff while he was busy having his rant and asking me to marry him.  And I was too busy trying to figure out if he needed medication when we got to England and then too gleefully happy to notice.  I couldn’t tell him this though—that would just… Well it’d give it away.  I couldn’t give him too much ammunition.  “So you were going to propose in England, huh?” I asked.  

He nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t really have it all planned out, but yes.  I had the ring for a while but I was waiting for the right time.”

Curiosity was nudging.  “How long have you had the ring?”

He shrugged.  “A while.”

“A while, huh?  How long is a while?”

“It’s longer than a jaunt.”

Ass.  I snorted.  “Ok,” More nudging.  “How did you know the size?”

He smirked.  “I tied a ribbon around your finger one night when you were sleeping and went from that.  I also tried it on one night, too—when you were sleeping—and almost had a heart attack when it fit to the point I couldn’t get it off.  But I had to make sure it wouldn’t need further adjustment.”

I smiled.  He’d done a lot and been pretty damn sneaky. “You’re like…turning into a spy or some shit.”

He looked offended.  “Please.  I am British.”

A thought suddenly popped. “You… Was that the night I woke up and you were sucking on my finger?!”

He damn near giggled. “Yeah.”

I slapped his shoulder playfully.  “Holy shit Rob!  You were damn lucky I was sleeping soundly.”

An eyebrow rose.  “You weren’t for very long.”

“Well, of course not.  A girl gets horny fast when her man’s sucking on her fingers.”

He chuckled. “I was just damn lucky I got it off when I did because my next attempt was going to involve either soap or butter.  I don’t think my heart had beat that fast in like…forever.  I mean it would have totally ruined the surprise.”

I laughed at him and moved closer, waiting for the second that the stupid seatbelt sign would be turned off.  Blessedly, it wasn’t long after that it was turned off and the happiest “ding” of my life meant I could get as close as I wanted.  

Which is how I wound up in his lap.

He was beaming, and might have been too, but we really didn’t care as I reacquainted myself with all the contours of his mouth.  When we stopped, both breathless, I snuggled into his neck and was happy to just be held…all the way to England or until that fucking sign came back on.  

There was an in-flight movie, I think.  I don’t know what it was because I spent the entire plane ride facing the opposite direction.  I asked Rob what had been playing and adorably and completely seriously, he’d said, “There was a movie?”  There was a meal, too, which I vaguely remember munching on while firmly settled in Rob’s lap.  And there were too many interruptions from the stewardess, who turned instantly annoying the second time she asked is we needed something.  I completely realized that she was just doing her job and all that, but we were busy.  Go the fuck away already.  I anticipated someone on the plane snapping photos of our bliss, but we must have actually had a plane full of decent people, and if anyone took pictures, they surfaced nowhere and remained unsold to paparazzi.  

Rob and I were safe to keep our engagement a secret from the media for as long as we needed.  It was quite nice.  

When we arrived at his childhood home, I got the distinct impression that his mother already knew.  I’m not sure if she registered the ring immediately, zeroing in on it like a hawk or if the goofy, dumb, deliriously happy smiles we were sharing tipped her off, but excitement hit the minute we were through the door.  

I felt far more at ease in his home than I thought I would.  It could have been because I was still high on our engagement or that his mother made me feel completely welcome and already part of the family.  Or it could have been the fact that Rob and I christened just about every room in the house when no one else was there.  I felt kind of dirty defiling the bedroom of his boyhood, but he assured me he was more than happy to let it see some action.  “Kristen this bed has been very lonely for a very long time.  I’m sure it’s pleased with the use.”

“Did you ever bring girls home when you were younger?”

“Not really.  I didn’t date a lot and you’re the first girl that’s been in this bed.”

I felt less guilty after that for some reason.  I think I should have felt guiltier, but I really didn’t care.  

Seeing him at home, in his element in London, was breathtaking.  He lit up like a kid at Christmas, excited to show me everything as our first mutual trip there had been more business related, we weren’t dating at the time, and there was little real time for sightseeing and exploring.  I thought I knew Rob, but this Rob was unknown to me and I ate it up like a gluttonous slut.  I wanted all he’d give me, all he’d show me, because this Rob was completely relaxed and at ease and was free to just be himself instead of dodging reporters and running from fans.  People in England didn’t act the same way Americans did.  We drove nowhere, walked and rode everywhere on public transportation and were seldom approached by people.  It was the most normal and most liberated I felt since Twilight hit.  And I realized immediately why Rob often missed home.  It wasn’t necessarily the place itself; it was the feeling that went with it—the anonymity.  

We were sitting on a park bench, just hanging out and people-watching and I couldn’t help myself.  “I think we should move here.”

Rob’s head spun to look at me. “You do?”

I nodded. “Yes.”  He was looking at me oddly. “What? I like it here.  I like you here.”

He smiled, a little sadly. “Wouldn’t you miss home?”

I thought for a minute. “Honestly, I don’t think so.  And when we’re working we’d be all over anyway.”

“Hmm,” he said.

Hmm?!  That was the great response to by brilliant idea?

“What?” I asked, “I thought you’d be really happy about this.”

He nodded slowly. “I am.  I just… I’m not sure you really want to live here.  You might change your mind once the engagement buzz wears off.  You might really hate it here and me in it.”

I chuckled. “I don’t think so.”

He shrugged, looking off in the distance.  “I just don’t want you to make any decisions you’ll regret because you made them spontaneously.  Have you really thought about this?  I mean, your parents would be an ocean away.  More than that—an ocean and across an entire country.  And you love L.A.”

“Well you seem to function just fine an ocean and across an entire country from your parents.”

He smiled, but still didn’t turn.  “Yeah, but it’s tough sometimes.  It’s hard to be away from something you love.  I was usually so busy I didn’t have time to miss it really.  But before you, nights got long Kristen.”

I watched him for a minute; he was still staring off, his mind somewhere far away.  I touched his leg. “Were you lonely a lot?”

He sighed and turned to me. “I’ve never had a problem being alone, but yes, it gets lonely.  And you just long for something that’s familiar.  I was stuffed into LA without knowing anyone.  It’s hard being in a place you don’t know and not knowing anyone either.  I imagine that moving here would be similar for you.”  He paused, his brow furrowing. “I just don’t want that for you because you think I want to be here.  That’s not fair and I just want to be wherever you are, I don’t care where it is.”

I smiled at him, cupping his cheek. “I wouldn’t be alone though.  I’d have you, your family, your friends.  I like your friends, Rob.”

He laughed.  “Well I can tell you with great certainty that my friends and family will lose their likability quickly.”  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “And your friends wouldn’t be here.  It’s just not a good feeling when you’re stuck somewhere.  I don’t want that to happen to you.”

I thought for a bit and he went back to his staring off.  

“Ok, this is what I know…”

He turned to face me.

“I know that this is the most relaxed either of us has been in a long time.  I know that we have not been followed, photographed, hounded, harassed or otherwise overly approached except for a few very considerate fans.  I know that I am not that vested in LA.  I do love it, yes, but it’s an insane, unhappy place, where we can’t move or live.  I know that people, family, friends, whatever, travel, and I’m sure would be happy to do so to this place.”  I gestured to our surroundings.  “I know that we have jobs that require us to move around a lot.  I know that you love this city and I know that I love you.  I’m saying that I’m not thinking about this spontaneously.  I’ve been thinking about it in different forms since we got here.  I’m saying that this could just be our home base—the place where we know we can go when we can’t possibly take any more of the bullshit.  And if I find later that I’m not happy here, we can always go somewhere else.  So what’s the harm in trying?  It’s not like we won’t keep a place in LA, too.”  I stopped and shrugged.  “I just think we should give it a try.”  I made sure he was looking at me.  “And you know, this is about you too—you love it here—this is your home—it wouldn’t be fair to you for me to just say ‘tough shit we’re living in LA forever.’”

I sighed, and played with the seam on the side of his shirt.  “You’re happy here.  I like seeing you happy.  I want to make you happy…”

He processed that and was quiet for a while.  I already knew I’d won so it wasn’t really much of a suspenseful wait for me.  

I let the seam go and moved closer, leaning my head on his shoulder, and his cheek was pressing into the top of my head immediately.  He surprised me with his answer.  “All right,” he said quietly.  I thought I’d won.  Then he added, “Instead why don’t we save London?  Like you were saying about it being a home base.  Why don’t we set it up and save it for when we need to get away.  Like a vacation home.  That’s not say we can’t move here eventually, but I’m not sure that’s even feasible right now with the way our shooting schedules tend to go.”

I smiled broadly, winking at him.  “Well, Jesus H. Christ, look at you getting all responsible and shit.  Are you practicing to be a husband or something?  That was, like, seriously mature and well thought out.”

He snorted. “I have my moments.”

“I’m impressed.”  I winked again.

“Thanks.”

“And that sounds like a good idea.”  I leaned over and kissed him happily, truly happily.  “We’re getting a place in England,” I said with a blissful sigh.  

He chuckled.  “Apparently, yes.”

I sighed.  “Rob, we can date here.  I mean, we’ve been on like actual dates.  It’s awesome.  I love it here.  I can drink here.”

He let out a bark of laughter.  “Oh so that’s the real motivation then.  Not all this business about being liberated and making me happy.  It’s the alcohol that’s really selling you.”

“Well, yeah, totally.”

He nodded. “It is a perk, yes.”

“Seriously though, it’s just fun to be normal—go to a movie without a crowd of people behind us or bodyguards all over.  We waited in line for coffee earlier and no one even acknowledged us.  It was great.  I felt so ignored!”

He snorted.  “Yeah, that’s what I love about here.  You can just disappear.”

I nodded, running my finger down his sideburn.  “Exactly.  So let’s disappear.  When we need to, we’ll have here.”

His smile was genuine and satisfied.  “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than disappear with you.”  His palm met my cheek and I learned into it.  “So I guess that means we should look for a place, right?”

I squealed and I may have giggled and clapped too but Rob just chuckled at me.

“Because while I feel very…bad and naughty, I’m also really terrified that one day soon my mother’s going to walk in with groceries while we’re fucking on her couch.”

I laughed.  “Then let’s start.  But first, we’re going to another movie right now and we’re gonna make out and grope like teenagers in the back of the theater.”

“Oh we are, are we?”

“Yeah, and if you behave you might just get a blowjob out of the deal.”

“You keep going and you might just hit a number of my boyhood fantasies.”

“Oh, I have a list and we’ve got tons of time, so you can tell me all about yours and we can compare notes and get to work.”

We stood up and he grabbed my hand, tugging me close to him, his arm around me. “I love you.”

I smiled and looked up at him.  “I love you, too.”

He was always so happy when I said that.  It almost made me want to say it less so it meant more when I did say it, but lately I couldn’t help but say it back.

He sighed and cleared his throat and I realized he was rather choked up, too. “You make me very happy you know.”

I smiled.  “I’m glad.  I like it when you’re happy.” I paused and then added, “You’re much easier to deal with.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” I smirked and we started walking again.  “Hey,” I said after a few steps, stopping the walk.  He turned to me, intent and I grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him until I was fairly certain we needed to part before clothing started coming off.  He groaned as we moved away and I snickered at him.  “We better get to the theater fast.”

“You’re the devil.”

I shrugged, and started walking again, laughing as it took him a minute before he caught up to me.  I grabbed his hand once he was with me again. “You make me happy, too.  I love it here.”

He smiled.  “Me, too.”  

I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to have sex in a theater chair, but I was wrong.  And we nearly got kicked out which I think Mr. Pattinson was rather proud of.  Thankfully, the guy was so old I don’t think he knew who we were anyway, so we were spared the embarrassment that might have caused.  

Picking out a place was interesting.  We rejected the idea of an apartment, or flat as Mr. Pattinson and the entire English country called it.  It just seemed easier and more practical to look for a home instead if it was something we wanted to visit long term.  We wanted the privacy and freedom that a house could provide and we were used to having that in our house/condo in LA.  We started soon after deciding, and found one quicker than anyone, especially us, thought.  Rob’s parents were overjoyed at the prospect that he’d be closer for longer periods of time and my parents weren’t adverse to the idea of being bi-continental.  

People looked at Rob and me strangely when we toured various properties.  At first we figured that it was because it was us picking shit out, but later we realized it had absolutely nothing to do with our infamous character-driven celebrity, it was the nature of how we went about our search.  Of course, there were the normal stories about Twilight Stars’ Love Nest and Shacking Up: Twilight Stars’ House Hunt and my favorite English Cottage For Real-Life Bella & Edward.  Rob and I would smirk and laugh and dismiss and then move onto the next property.  Slowly we figured out that the realtors and brokers thought our approach strange; not because we were young and famous, but because we really didn’t care.  We weren’t interested in the appliances that came with the house or if the washer and dryer were standard or that we were getting a ‘killer deal’ because the carpets were new and the floor refinished.  Now, it wasn’t that Rob and I had no sense of taste or that we didn’t enjoy having a washer and dryer included, it was just that we didn’t get as excited, I suppose, as most.  They would look at us with expectation; as in the ‘you insert your enthusiasm here’ look, and it just wouldn’t happen.  I nearly died laughing in one place where the realtor went on and on at length about the new water heater and the updated paneling and Rob finally interrupted to ask if the ‘tube’ came that far out of town.  Another one told us in detail about the security system and the response time of law enforcement and Rob inquired as to why law enforcement response time was catalogued if the security was so great.  All in all, I think we both had more fun riling the realtors and brokers than actually looking at places.

We both commented frequently that many looked the same and really had no differences besides location and carpet color.  We just did not care if the carpet was beige or taupe—it was all fucking light brown anyway.  Rob argued with one lady about the difference between eggshell and seashell and ivory when they were all just white.  We left that residence upon request.  

Ultimately, the place we took found us.  And I kept joking to Rob that it was very Harry Potter-ish or Harry Potter-esque or Harry Potter-like.  I think he was getting rather annoyed with me if I was being honest.  But then it was like a switch flipped and he started telling me it was similar to Bella and Edward’s cottage in the woods and then I shut up.  Bastard.

It wasn’t small and it wasn’t large.  It wasn’t in town and it wasn’t out of town.  It wasn’t new but it wasn’t terribly old either.  It was modern without being weird and quaint without being cheesy.  It was a lot of in betweens.  Just right.  It was spacious but cozy; comfortable but with a certain edge.  It was like the amalgamation of English Country and LA Condo.  It had a small front yard which for some reason Rob was excited he could mow on occasion (like when the fuck did he get to liking mowing a lawn?) and it had a fence with a gate which I told him straight off would never be painted any kind of white, eggshell, clamshell, ivory, lace or any other goddamn description of the color.  He laughed at me and told me it was wrought iron.  Fucker.  The gate was kind of cheesy, I’ll concede on that because it was very English Bed and Breakfast; like Jane Austen just bit us in the ass.  The neighborhood seemed quiet, yet it was still within walking distance to public transportation.  

So you might be wondering about that whole discovery thing.  Rob will tell you that I got us lost.  What really happened was that the London native doesn’t know his shit or wasn’t paying attention because we got off at the wrong fucking stop.  And being the non-Brit, I just followed like a sheep because I didn’t know the fucking city at all.  Rob insists that I was spouting off some crap about this being our stop (as if I would even know that?), and honestly, I don’t fucking know anymore who said what because it really didn’t matter once we stumbled upon the house.  We were sort of arguing—in our normal, affectionately murderous way—and honestly just about smacked into the house.  It was obviously some sort of divine intervention or whatever because neither of us was really paying attention and then it was sort of like those dramas or comedies where everything just stops, or the climax of a horror movie where you know that the axe will soon be appearing in someone’s forehead.  Like we had our own soundtrack and we both just stopped and turned and there it was.  I guess it was kind of romantic in a vaguely disgusting way.  So we wandered around for a while and tried not to look like vagrants, which when you’re with hobo-Pattinson, is not always an easy task, lemme tell ya.  Then we called the realtor and pretty much bought the house right then.  

I think it was the backyard that really did it.  If you’ve lived in the city, like both Rob and I tended to, you didn’t have yards at all.  This was like nature threw up in the back of the house.  There was a small garden and an arbor and a patio and a fire pit that pyro-Rob was very excited about (and hell, I was, too—I kept thinking about the BBQ night at the Facinelli’s and imaging Rob and I out there with the fire pit just enjoying the shit out of it).  Then there was the stream.  I can’t be certain, but I think we both might have came right there.  A. Fucking. Stream. In. The. Backyard.  Shut up!  I said it was quaint!  It’s a small stream!  But we were both in love with it.  Thus, it became chez-Pattinson-Stewart or Stewart-Pattinson or soon-to-be-Pattinson or whatever.  

The realtor said it was a real find to be located in a suburb yet still have the “old-world charm.”  And just as long as the roof wasn’t thatched or made of straw, “old-world charm” was fine with me.  

It had all we needed to be our safety net.  A glimpse of normalcy in a world that tended to be chaotic and insane for us.  This could be our respite.  Our hideaway.  

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7a  Chapter 7b  Chapter 8 Chapter 9a  Chapter 9b  Chapter 10  Chapter 11  Chapter 12  Chapter 13  Chapter 14  Chapter 15 Chapter 16  Chapter 17a  Chapter 17b  Chapter 18a  Chapter 18b  Chapter 19a  Chapter 19b  Chapter 19c  Chapter 20  Chapter 21  Chapter 22  Chapter 23  Chapter 24  Chapter 25  Chapter 26  Chapter 27  Chapter 28  Chapter 29  Chapter 30  Chapter 31  Chapter 32  Chapter 33  Chapter 34  Chapter 35  Chapter 36   Chapter 37  Chapter 38  Chapter 39  Chapter 40   Chapter 41  Chapter 42  Chapter 43 Chapter 44  Chapter 45  Chapter 46