The Cost of Infidelity

Summary: When Bella Newton gives birth to a baby with bronze hair, she finds that she is pulling those around her into a downward spiral of lies, deceit and lost love. Lemons and slash – just warning you.

Bit of Background info: All that we know at the moment is that all the characters are human. Don't expect it to stay that way, and don't expect all information regarding species to be revealed at this early stage.

Bella and Mike have gotten married, and Jacob and Edward are a couple.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Twilight characters. They are property of Stephenie Meyer, not me. *sobs*

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Chapter One: Forgotten How to Smile

Bella's POV

"Isn't she wonderful, Bella? And she's really ours. Can you believe it? It seemed like just yesterday we were graduating, and now we're parents!"

As Mike cooed over our new daughter, I wondered how I would be able to cover up that she obviously wasn't his. I stroked the downy bronze hair on her head, thinking of where I'd seen it before.

I grasped a handful of his tousled bronze hair as I kissed his soft lips. This was wonderful; a million times sweeter than anything I'd ever had with Mike.

"Edward." I gasped his name as he kissed my neck.

At that point, I had no care for my husband or for the household I had created: I was living in the moment.

That moment, so small, so seemingly inconsequential, had now exploded into something potentially painful for not just me, but for everyone involved. I watched Mike's brow furrow as he looked at my daughter, and I racked my brains for an excuse.

Sooner or later he'd find out. Sooner or later I'd run out of lies. Sooner or later he would recognize her features as Edward's. Jacob had been a good friend for a long time, and Edward was his partner. He and Mike had met, and pretty soon, he would make the connection.

I reclined in an armchair in front of the television, and clutched a pillow to my sore stomach. Flicking through the channels, I found a show about inheritance. How ironic, I thought. However much inheritance had betrayed me recently, there was nothing else on, so I watched it, and listened to the woman's voice drone on. She talked about phenotypes and chromosomes for what seemed like almost an hour, before I caught something which piqued my interest:

"The red hair gene is a recessive gene, a mutation in the MC1R gene, which is responsible for the production of certain pigments. Redheads overproduce pheomelanin, which is a red pigment, and under produce eumelanin, a brown pigment, hence their pale skin. Because the gene is recessive, it can skip generations, and re-appear much later."

At long last, a solution! Or alternatively, another lie to add on top of my existing ones. I could tell Mike about my 'Irish ancestors.' I could say my grandmother was a redhead; Mike knew nothing about my gran, and so little about Biology that he wouldn't be able to argue with me.

I sauntered over to the crib again, and gazed at Renesmee's rosy face. "Beautiful, isn't she?" Mike asked. "She gets that from her mother."

I just nodded and smiled. He placed a loving arm around me. "She has your eyes, too."

Renesmee looked in my direction blew a raspberry. "She has your wit," I said dryly. Mike laughed and messed up my hair with his hand. He paused for a moment, that same confused look coming to his face, his brow knitting together slightly.

"I...was wondering where she got the red hair from."

I felt my pulse rise and my cheeks burn crimson as I prepared to tell my lie. Mike still had his eyes on Renesmee, and didn't notice the change. My breath caught in my throat.

"She...uh...must have gotten it from my grandma." He looked at me with confusion, asking for an explanation. "Sometimes the gene can skip generations. It's recessive."

"I believe you!" he said quickly, raising his arms in front of him in surrender. "Don't start going all smart on me!"

I allowed myself a small smile, partly at my husband's weakness when it came to academics, and partly at the apparent success of my fib.

That crooked smile appeared beautifully on his face; the one that made me melt in his arms. His large, strong hands cupped my head as he kissed my jawline, and my eyelids flickered shut when his intoxicating scent washed over me.

When I opened my eyes, his emerald ones were gazing lovingly into mine. He placed a searing kiss on my lips, and the friction of his smooth body against mine was euphoric as I lay beneath him.

A one-night stand perhaps; but couldn't there be something more?

Something more.

How I longed for something more.

Something other than this monotony.

I watched my husband open a beer fresh from the fridge, and drag himself into the living room, where he threw his blond hair back and collapsed in front of the television.

I watched my newborn daughter slowly close her big, brown eyes and drift into a peaceful sleep, where she would no doubt dream peaceful dreams.

I watched my reflection in the mirror plaster a fake smile on its face, and walk towards the living room, where it would sit with its husband.

Living a lie.

One, huge, grotesque lie.

Why can't there be something more?

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Edward's POV

"Edward? I'm home. You'll never guess: Bella gave birth!"

I stopped breathing.

"I can't believe she didn't tell me as soon as she went into labor! I'm her best friend." Jacob's voice echoed from downstairs.

"That you are," I managed to splutter out.

"Tell me about it." I heard two dull thumps as he kicked off his shoes. "Where are you?"

"Upstairs."

With every single of his steps up the stairs, the dread that had been coiled up in my stomach for nine months grew. I attempted to hide my overwhelming guilt.

My thoughts were wiped clean as the heart-stoppingly beautiful face of my lover came into my sight. The man never seemed to age; his youthful, russet skin was usually flawless, and its natural heat always seemed to warm up whichever room he entered. Or perhaps it was simply his warm nature.

He sagged onto the bed, exhausted, and I greeted him with a tender kiss. As my hand caressed his cheek, it found a blemish. I glanced at my fingers, and there was an angry red smudge across them.

"What's this?"

Jacob cleared his throat, embarrassed. "I just got into a fight outside the club; it's no big deal, honestly."

"Of course it is; you're bleeding quite badly." I fetched a towel from the bathroom and wet it. I watched crimson circles bloom across the wet fabric as I dabbed; like dewy roses. As I watched the blood spread, a weird – some might call it sick – urge swept over me. I could smell the metallic perfume seeping from the cut – it was thick and intoxicating. Mixed with Jacob's usual scent of sweat and moss, it made me want to taste it.

I flicked my tongue out to graze it across his fiery cheek. He shuddered; my tongue must have felt like ice in comparison to his abnormally warm skin. The rusty wetness touched the tip of my tongue and seeped across it. I felt his lips on my jawline and his burning hands reaching under my shirt and brushing over my torso. I melted beneath him.

My mind was fogged; all I knew was that suddenly, his lips were on mine, and his hands were searching for my belt. He whipped it away, and – at the most awkward time, of course – my guilt choked me with a menace that threatened to burst forth. I almost let out a sob as I tried to suppress it.

As our lips parted for a brief second, I let out a small gasp that had been held up. His hands slid over my body and past the hem of my jeans, and my guilt only grew.

How could I ever love anyone apart from Jacob?

How could I possibly even think of betraying him?

How could I live with myself?

My answers to these questions was certainly not to be found in the taste of his tongue as it plundered my mouth, or in the sensation of his burning touch reaching down to gently stroke my already hardening shaft. My hips bucked into his touch; he let out a low growl as I pressed up against his own erection.

That deep rumble I had learned to love combined with his intoxicating touch sent shivers down my spine and made me moan into his mouth. Suddenly, his lips had left mine and I felt myself being pinned to the bed.

With Jacob, I allowed myself to be dominated. He was much stronger and taller than me, and he had such a commanding nature – this was probably due to the fact that he was the manager of the bouncers at the club in Port Angeles where he worked most nights. Obviously the job description asked for a strong leader who was a natural at controlling others – Jacob fit this perfectly.

My mind wandered, and thought about the one time that I had been the dominant one. It was a good feeling. Being in control of the other person and being the one to make the decisions made me feel empowered. Just the thought of it made me moan again into Jacob's mouth, even though he wasn't the person I was thinking of.

For a moment, my imagination strayed to that one night nine months ago – that amazing and terrible night when I had forgotten the love of my life and sought another and totally different type of love – the love of a woman. By chance, Jacob's best friend Bella was seeking to forget her husband: our incidental meeting culminated in a night of passionate, wonderful, but immensely immoral night of sex. Just the thought of it made me shudder.

"Oh, God…"

Suddenly my mental image was one of the brown-eyed face of Bella looking back at me as our bodies collided – her strawberry scented hair, her crimson cheeks, her pale breasts…

"Oh, my God…"

As Jacob's hand began to pump a steady rhythm, I felt myself coming dangerously close to release. To stop myself from coming, I attempted to picture something utterly repulsive in my mind's eye.

Aunt Geraldine's hairy lips.

Aunt Geraldine's hairy lips.

Bella Newton's perfect lips.

"Oh my fucking God…"

I felt my climax coming close. Just one more stroke and…

"Oh, God… Bella…!"

A/N: My apologies for any inaccuracies concerning birth/newborn babies, but I'm afraid I have not had a particularly large amount of experience in that area – i.e. none. Similarly, guy-on-guy action is not something which I have experienced; or will ever experience. So I employed HigherMagic to help me with it. Virtual hugs and cookies for her because she also is beta-ing this story. Reviews, bad or good, are always appreciated – even if you just want to say 'hi' – and will always be replied to.