I own nothing Twilight.
Wake up naked, drinking coffee,
Making plans to change the world,
While the world is changing us.
It was good, good love.
Stay or Leave - Dave Matthews Band
Chapter One -
BPOV
September 2011
"No, a little higher."
Jacob just groaned, but lifted the painting higher on the wall.
"Is this good?" he asked.
"A little to the left," I replied, standing back to observe his placement.
He moved to the left slightly, pretending to struggle under the weight of the canvas. It was all for show, Jacob can not only lift it easily but could probably handle another four canvases in his grasp comfortably. He just liked to be an asshole sometimes.
"There, that's perfect!" I clapped my hands together, pleased with the results, "I knew it would look good there."
He marked the spots on the wall of where to hang my painting, laughing at my giddiness as he does. I ignored him, as I usually do, and smiled to myself.
"What do you call this one?" Rosalie, my best friend and business partner, stood next to me, looking at the piece of art.
"I call it '2008'," I answered, gently placing my hand on the canvas, feeling the grooves from the brush in the dried paint.
It was a significantly big piece, but once I saw the canvas in the art store, I knew immediately what I would paint on it. There was a red heart in the center, with different colors continually outlining it until the they ran out of space. The colors began with light shades of pinks, oranges and yellows before slowing become dark blues and purples, ending in black.
"You're such a masochist, Bella," she said, arms crossed over her chest as she took in the image.
"I don't get it," Jacob joined in, "What's it suppose to be?"
Of course Jacob didn't know, nor would he ever. Rosalie has been my best friend since we were five and she moved into the house next to mine in my hometown of Forks, Washington. She knew everything about me and I knew everything about her. Not necessarily because we told each other everything, but because all we had to do is look at each other and we just knew what the other is thinking. It could be incredibly helpful at times and a pain in the ass at others.
"The ice machine is making that funny noise again!" Angela yelled at us from behind the counter.
"That damn ice machine," I muttered, walking into the backroom. After college, Rose and I had stayed in Seattle and went into business together. With her business degree and my street smarts, we opened up our own coffee shop, Bella Rose Café, in downtown Seattle and have successfully been in operation for just over three years.
The café not only allowed us to remain as close as ever, but it also allowed us to pursue other passions. Rose was in the process of taking classes to get her masters and I had more than enough free time to work on my art-my one true love in life; although I had yet to manage to make a considerable profit from it. The shop let me display my new works to customers, who could then purchase any of the works on the walls. It also led me to a few dozen gallery shows due to our eclectic clientele, who were mostly wealthy people who enjoy art. Or rich businessmen who wanted to get in my pants and think hooking me up with a gallery showing will help them achieve that. I used this to my advantage before crushing their spirits-after the shows, of course.
"I hate to say it, but I think it might be time for a new one," Rose said, pulling her tool box out from under the dish sink. Another reason we worked so well together, where I could design the store, she could practically fix any and everything that happened to break. Which happened often.
I watched as she opened up the side of the machine, inspecting the various tubes that hanged inside its body.
"I think we need to take the central tube and connect it to the distribution tube," I said, my eyes squinted in concentration.
Rose stopped what she was doing and just looked at me, as she usually did in these situations.
"You have no idea what you're talking about, do you?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer to that question.
"No idea," I responded, "But for a second, it sounded like I did, didn't it?"
She just laughed, turning back to her work. I really was useless at times like these, but that didn't stop me from annoying the shit out of her by interjecting random plumbing or construction jargon.
"It needs a new flush valve, there's too much lime build up and not enough water can get through," she said, her hand placed on her hip thoughtfully.
I opened my mouth to make some smartass comment, but a loud shriek interrupted us. Angela came flying into the backroom, her eyes wide with terror. Which wasn't exactly saying much, Angela has always been a worrywart and typically over exaggerates.
"Um, I think one of you might need to come out here and talk to this lady," she said, and as the door swung behind her we could hear a woman's shrill voice yelling in the café, "Mike might've accidentally spilled hot coffee all over someone."
Rose and I simultaneously groaned. Mike was a new hire, who seemed to be having a particularly hard time catching on to the way the shop ran.
"I got it, just finish up here," I said to Rose, following Angela back out to the floor.
There was a woman standing at the drink hand-off plane, hands up in the air, a giant coffee stain covering her entire front. It wasn't the first time this had happened and I was sure it wouldn't be the last. . .especially with Mike working here now.
"You did that on purpose!" the woman was screaming, her face red with rage.
She was young, probably no older than myself. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun and her now-ruined suit was impeccable, probably something designer and ridiculously expensive.
"I'm so sorry, I thought the lid was all the way on," Mike stammered, flustered and practically on the verge of tears.
I began walking towards them, thinking of how much ass-kissing I was about to do to smooth things over. Sometimes working in customer service really, really sucked.
"Can you believe this?" she was saying to someone out of my sight, then to Mike, "This suit is worth more than your parents make in a year, kid."
"I'm so sorry," Mike just kept repeating.
"I'm sure it was just an accident, Tanya," a voice, still out of view, said.
I stopped dead in my tracks. I knew that voice, knew it like I knew my own. I didn't have to see who it belonged to, to know who it was. But he stepped into view, his arm coming to hold the woman's elbow. Hair the same fiery shade of copper and brown, eyes still that magnificent shade of green. His body, once softer and more gangly, had hardened into muscle and brawn. He wasn't wearing the t-shirt and jeans combo that I had known to be his wardrobe for all of college, he was wearing a suit that was probably just as expensive as the woman's.
"If he's that clumsy, he shouldn't be working around hot liquids," the woman continued, as though Mike wasn't standing a mere three feet away from her.
I slowly backed away, hoping not to draw attention to myself. I made it safely to the back room, my heart pounding so hard I wouldn't have been surprised if you could see it through my shirt.
"I think I fixed it for now," Rose's voice was muffled, her head practically buried in the machine.
I didn't respond, instead focusing on breathing. In and out. In and out. When she realized I wasn't going to make a pissy comment, she looked over at me.
"What's going on out there?" she asked, taking in my rapidly rising and falling chest, my flushed cheeks.
"Mike spilled coffee on some woman," I answered numbly.
"Okay. . .," she waited until I continued, not understanding my current state of panic.
After a few more seconds, when I could finally manage words, I opened my mouth to speak.
"Edward is here."
"What?" she suddenly moved to stand in front of me.
I didn't answer, instead I just pointed to the café. She walked over to the door, peering out the small window. She gasped, confirming that I was not hallucinating and that Edward Cullen was, in fact, standing in my coffee shop.
"You need to go take care of it," I said, moving to sit at our desk which was crammed into the backroom-along with the ice machine, all of our supplies and pretty much Rose's entire tool collection.
She looked at me, unsure if she should leave me in my current state. Ultimately the woman's screams helped to make her decision and she pushed her way out of the room. Curiosity got the better of me and I practically crawl, army-style, over to the door, wedging it open enough so that I could hear what was going on.
"I'm the manager," I heard Rose's voice, completely professional and cold, say.
I didn't have to see his face, just hear his voice to know the shock Edward felt at seeing Rosalie Hale standing in front of him. It was a face he probably thought he'd never see again.
April 2008
"So when do you guys move in?" Rosalie asked, her feet dangling from her spot on our kitchen counter.
We were in the middle of packing up the apartment which we had spent the past three years living together in. After our freshman year, we both came to the same conclusion that dorm life just wasn't for us. You could only take so many drunken, naked streaks down the halls at 1 a.m. on a Tuesday morning. Even if we were the ones who was doing the streaking. I think we both realized for the sake of our reputations we should probably get a place of our own, where we could chug 40s after an exam and not have to worry about the entire freshman dorm seeing our naked asses.
"Edward had to stop over to his father's office and then he's going to get the keys from the landlord," I answered, taping up another box of dishes, "We can pretty much move in whenever."
I couldn't help the smile that had been plastered on my face since Edward had asked if I wanted to move in together after graduation. Neither of us were entirely sure what we were going to do with our lives, but it didn't matter because we had each other. We were so in love that nothing else mattered. Every day I loved him more and more, I had never known it was possible to have those feelings for another human being. We had been together for nearly four years and every time he looked at me it was like he was seeing me for the first time. I could hardly believe my luck.
My phone rang then, interrupting my thoughts. I pulled out my cell phone to see Edward's name on the screen. My heart started beating faster just at seeing his name.
"Hey you," I answered.
"Are you still at the old apartment?" he asked briskly.
"Um, yeah," I said, slightly taken aback.
"Can you come over here? I'm at the new place, I need to talk to you," his voice had sounded defeated almost, but not enough to alarm me.
"Sure babe, let me just load up the car with some boxes and I'll be right over," I looked over at Rose, who was pretending to read the latest issue of Cosmo when really I knew that she was eavesdropping.
"No, just come over now, it's important," I wished that I could see his face, not able to comprehend the way his voice was coming across.
"Okay," I answered and before I could say another word, he had ended the call.
I stared at my phone, as though waiting for him to call back and say he was messing with me. I was frequently a victim to his pranks, even though he knew I despised them.
"What was that about?" Rose asked, hopping off the counter.
"I don't know," I continued staring at the phone, "I gotta go, I'll be back later."
She just looked at me like I had grown a second head. I grabbed my purse, stepping into a pair of flip-flops I kept by the door. The whole drive over, I kept imagining what I would find when I arrived. There was a tiny, small part of me that was genuinely freaked out; but the more rational part of my brain was pushing it down. This was Edward. I would probably walk into the apartment and see that he had decided to buy a pool table without telling me. Or some god-awful couch. The boy had enough money to spend it on absolutely ridiculous things just because he wanted to see my reaction to them. This might be the Pamela Anderson cardboard cut-out incident all over again.
When I arrived to our new complex, I parked my old truck in the spot next to his beloved Volvo. I walked over to it, placing my hand on the hood, remembering nights spent in the backseat, road trips to see bands we loved, so many memories.
The door to our apartment was open, a box propping it ajar. I hesitantly walked in, expecting to see another one of Edward's impulsive buys. With the exception of the one holding the door, however, the place was empty.
"Edward?" I called out.
It took a few seconds, but he emerged from what was to be our bedroom. I took him in, the way his jeans curved over his thighs and ass so perfectly. The way his blue t-shirt hugged his torso that gave me a preview of the man I knew he would one day turn into. My gaze continued on to his face, which is where it stopped.
"What's wrong?" I asked, upon seeing his red eyes.
Edward never cried. I didn't even think he was capable of it. From the day we first met, all I ever saw was a smile, or that sexy smirk he gave me when he was trying to seduce me, or that mischievous look he had when he had done something wrong.
I went to stand in front of him, taking his face in my hands.
"Edward," I said, the sense of dread growing within me, "Is it Carlisle? Or Esme? What's wrong?"
He just stood there, my face in his hands, staring me in the eyes as though he was trying to drink me in. I didn't understand why he was acting so strangely.
"Carlisle is sick," was all he said.
My heart dropped.
"Sick? How?"
He pulled my hands off his face and walked over to the balcony, his back to me as he spoke.
"Someone has to run the company while he goes into treatment and he asked me to do it," his voice was dead calm.
I slowly digested the information. Okay, so things weren't going to be exactly as we had imagined them. That was alright.
"It's not forever," I walked over, putting my hand on his shoulder to comfort him.
He just looked down at it, a sad smile appearing on his lips. I knew he could feel the electric current that passed between us every time we touched. No amount of time would ever get either of us to that feeling.
"I'm going to work in the London offices," he said suddenly, turning his head back to look outside, "Carlisle needs me to go over there to instill confidence in the international shareholders."
I kept my hand on his shoulder, taking it all in.
"London," I repeated, "Well, it's not what we planned, but that's okay."
He didn't speak for a minute, as though he was contemplating what to say next. Thinking carefully what words he would use.
"Alone," he said softly.
"What?" I asked, not sure if I had heard him right.
He turned then, finally looking me in the eyes. His face was set and determined, angry almost. He had never looked at me like that before and I slowly backed away from him, suddenly frightened.
"I'm going alone, Bella," he said again, "I can't have any distractions, I need to focus on my father's company."
All at once, it was like I had been punched in the gut. I couldn't breathe.
"What?" I whispered.
"Cullen & Co. is a Fortune 500 company, I'm barely going to have enough time to eat. I can't have you being there, taking me away from what is important. This, it's not good for me," he looked down at the ground then, unable to look at me as he said the words.
"You mean I'm not good for you," I could feel the emptiness filling me already, the void that was being created by his words.
He didn't respond, but with the affirmative look in his eyes, he didn't have to.
I had always wondered when this day would come, when he would wake up and realize we were two very different people from two very different worlds. I was a small town girl from a middle-class family. He was the son of Carlisle Cullen, president and CEO of one of the world's biggest investment firms. And despite all of his reassuring, despite all of his words telling me otherwise, I think deep down I had always known I would walk into this apartment one day and he would break my heart.
"Bella," his voice was suddenly back to being the one I knew, the one that had whispered in my ear while we made love in his bed, so sincere and gentle.
I just stared at him, not knowing it was possible to love and hate someone so much at the same time.
"Bella," he repeated, stepping towards me and putting his hand over mine.
"Don't touch me," I screamed, jerking my hand away from his.
It had felt like the walls were closing in around me, that I was suffocating. I needed to leave, to get as far away from him and this apartment, our apartment, as possible.
I just stared at him, my mouth hanging wide open in utter shock.
"Fuck you," were the last words I spoke to Edward Cullen.
I left him and my heart in that apartment and never looked back.
September 2011
As I sat on the floor, leaning against the door that separated the backroom from the café, I remembered that day. It seemed like so long ago, I was a completely different girl then. So in love, so naïve, so stupid. It was about a week after I walked out of that apartment that I saw Edward again. It wasn't in person, however, it was on CNN. I had watched as the reporter spoke over the segment, showing Edward standing next to his father, who looked the picture of health, at a press conference. Carlisle's voice filled my ears:
"Today is a great day for me, as a father. Today I welcome my son Edward into Cullen & Co. as COO. He will be running our London offices, while I continue overseeing the company stateside. It brings me great pride knowing that this company, that I built from the ground up, will continue on in my family. I look forward to many, many more years ahead as Edward helps me take Cullen & Co. further into the 21st century."
I had sat there, on the couch of Rose and mine's apartment, staring blankly at the screen.
He had lied. His father wasn't ill at all. Edward wanted to go to London and he simply didn't want me anymore.
"You need to fire this boy," I heard the woman, whom Edward had called Tanya, say to Rosalie.
"Rosalie?" Edward had said at the same time.
I wish I could see his face in that moment, but my body was paralyzed on the floor.
"Can I help you?" Rose feigned ignorance, as though she didn't recognize this man she had seen in her dorm and apartment, everyday, for nearly all of college.
"It's Edward," he said, "Edward Cullen."
I had to hand it to Rose, she could certainly play up the bitch role when she wanted to.
"Edward?" she said, as though she was thinking, "Oh! Edward Cullen! Oh my god, I barely recognized you."
I didn't know if he believed her or not, but I knew how convincing Rose could be.
"You two know each other?" Tanya asked, clearly annoyed.
"I. . .we. . . " Edward stuttered over his words, "We went to college together."
"Oh, how quaint," Tanya said, "Now, just so we're clear, you will be paying for my dry cleaning bill."
"Rose," Edward ignored her, "How are you?"
"I'm good," Rose acted indifferent, "And of course we will take care of the bill."
I knew Rosalie was just trying to get him out of here before I full on had a panic attack or worse, went out and straight punched him in the face for the asshole that he was.
"Is this your shop?" he asked, not giving up on conversation with her.
"Yeah, I opened it a little bit after college. We didn't all have trust funds waiting around for us," her tone was friendly, but I knew it was a dig.
He laughed nervously and I wondered why he was prolonging the awkwardness anymore than necessary. Maybe he felt guilty, for completely shattering her best friend years before.
I finally worked up the strength to pull myself off the floor, looking out the window to witness their interaction. He was looking at her, shell-shocked. His eyes went to the sign that hung over the menu board behind her that read Bella Rose Café.
"Bella?" he asked suddenly.
It felt like my heart stopped beating in that instant, when my name crossed his lips. Rose turned around, following his eyes to the sign.
"Oh yeah, I named the shop after her," she answered, then added, "You know, after the accident."
I rolled my eyes, knowing that a massive lie was about to leave her lips. Rose was a master manipulator. It was how she convinced me to give her my favorite stuffed animal when we were kids, how she convinced me to drink my first beer when we were teens and how she convinced me to go to that party the night I met Edward for the first time.
"Accident?" he repeated, "What accident?"
"You didn't hear?" she asked, with mock surprise.
"No," his voice suddenly changed, from one of arrogant confidence to one of gentleness, of the boy I had once loved.
"It was right after the summer we graduated, there was a car accident," her face showed no signs of deception.
She wasn't lying, exactly. I had been in a car accident the summer after we graduated, but what she failed to mention was that it was a minor one that had left me with just a broken arm and a few bruises. It was barely newsworthy. In fact, the only place I had seen it mentioned was in the Forks Herald and that was probably only because my father was the chief of police.
"I really miss her," she said sadly.
I wanted to laugh, but I knew that'd draw attention to myself. God, Rose was such a bitch.
"I. . .," his mouth just hung open and for a second a saw pain flicker across his face.
Good. I wanted him to hurt as much as he had hurt me.
"I better get back to work, those cups aren't going to order themselves," she started walking towards me, "It was great seeing you again, Cullen."
I quickly stepped back, so no one would see me. Rose came through the door, a huge grin on her face.
"You're welcome," was all she said.
A/N: Let me know what you think, thanks.