Ok...so this is my very first fanfic. I've been writing stories for years (I have notebooks full of them) but I've always been to scared to post them on any sites.

But it's a new year & I've decided it's time to put my big girl panties on & just do it!

So if you like it, let me know. If you hate it, I wanna know that too.

:-D

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. Coz I would never give you 3 books of UST & then fade to black. That's just mean.

BPOV:

The tiny bell above the door jingles, signalling another customer. I don't need to know it's a local. We don't get many outside visitors to this town, and when we do they're only ever passing through. People don't stay here by choice. Eventually everyone leaves.

Except me.

I, like all kids growing up in Forks, had plans to get out of here after graduation. Plans to start my own life, to travel the world, plans to get married and start a family, plans to never come back. But plans change. And 20 years later I'm still here, working the same job, living in the same house, watching all my friends grow up and move away, move on.

The clearing of a throat breaks me from my memories. Fixing a polite smile on my face, I look up...and I'm speechless.

"He's back!" my inner voice screams. But I can see it in his eyes, he doesn't recognise me. Not at all.

"Um...Excuse me ma'am?" His voice is as rich and velvety as I remember, but his words are an unexpected stake to my heart.

Long forgotten feelings threaten to overcome me. Years spent waiting for the day he would come back for me have all been for nothing. He's not here for me now, he's just another customer.

"Yes, how can I help you?" I offer, forcing myself to be cheerful. I'm sure I fail miserably.

"I...uh...where do you find the...um...female products?"

"Female products?"

"Yeah," he mumbles, "for...uh...periods and that." He's so adorably nervous that I almost miss what he's saying.

"Oh of course. Aisle five, just down the end there," I sigh. He's obviously running errands for his wife. He is such a good man, I have no doubt that he's a wonderful husband. I always dreamt he would be.

"Thanks," he says. As he turns to walk away, he pauses and holds his hand out to me. "I'm Edward Cullen by the way."

I can't help but stare, at his hand, at the hopeful look in his eye, at his patient smile as he waits for me to tell him my name. But I won't do it. I can't do it. I can't introduce myself like a strange. I can't pretend that I'm nothing to him, that we were nothing. Pretend that there wasn't a time when we were as close as two people could possibly be.

So I ignore him, and his hand and his eyes, and flee to my office, telling Jasper to man the counter for a while. This is so much more than I can handle after years of silence.

When I'm safe in my office, I cry. Tears stream down my face as I mourn the time we spent together, the soft kisses, the gentle caresses and lovingly whispered words. I sob my aching heart out for all the years spent waiting for him to come back, for him to take me away.

But most of all, I cry for myself, for wasting the last 20 years of my pathetic small town life on a man who made promises he didn't keep, a man who left and didn't come back.

A man who broke my heart.