Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. When Harry Met Sally and its characters belong to Nora Ephron. The rest is my doing. Please do not repost the story without authorization.
This story was written for the Fandom4TwifanG compilation to help raise money for her memorial fund, and then for the Alzheimer's Association, a cause near and dear to her heart. I was honoured to be a part of it.
Gisela came into my life in January, 2009. I was a fledgling fan-fiction author writing my first story. She was exactly the sort of reader-reviewer every author wants and needs. She was encouraging and supportive. She cared about the story and its characters. She cared about me, noticing when I was gone and reading between the lines in my journal entries. I've saved every word she's ever said to me, and I go back to read them when I need a lift. It was important to me to commemorate her with a story, because she made such a difference in my writing early on. She was a kind, loving soul, and she will be greatly missed.
A sincere thank-you to the amazing women who volunteered their time to beta this story: LisaMichele17, sleepyvalentina, Ivygirl702, and TopazHeart.
It Had To Be You
Meeting Edward Cullen wasn't part of the plan that day. Not that being dropped off at the prom in a police cruiser was—at least, it wasn't until my date stood me up, and the engine of my faithful truck refused to turn over.
There was nothing to do but laugh and go with it.
It was 1982. I was dressed in my velvet and taffeta Gunne Sax dress, waiting to be picked up. The phone rang, and as soon as I answered it, Alice went off like a bottle-rocket. Where was I? What was taking so long? Had I changed my mind about going with Austin? If I had, why hadn't I told her? If I hadn't, why was Austin Marks already at the prom? And why was he with Katie Marshall?
The way I saw it, I had two choices: I could be angry with Austin for ditching me, or I could be happy he'd found the courage to ask out the girl he'd been pining for since the beginning of high school. I chose the latter. A little warning would have been nice, but it really wasn't a big deal to me. Austin and I were neighbours and good friends, but there was never anything romantic between us. So why shouldn't he be with the girl who made his heart soar? If I had someone who made me feel that way, I hope Austin would have done the same thing for me.
My friends were already at the hotel—asking them to leave to come get me would just be wrecking their fun—so my dad, Charlie, was the only person left who could drive me. That was how I ended up in a squad car that day, being escorted to the prom by the Forks Chief of Police.
One moment we were headed towards the Kalaloch Lodge; the next we were pulling over a copper-haired man on suspicion of driving under the influence.
I watched from the front seat as Charlie put the guy through a series of field-sobriety tests, wondering why he didn't begin with a breathalyser. Penny-hair had no balance when he tried to stand on one leg, and his heel-to-toe steps and turns were slow and riddled with bobbles. I felt kind of bad for him because I had trouble doing those manoeuvres when I was completely sober. I couldn't see his reaction to the next test, only the scowl on his face when my father shone a penlight at him. After a brief conversation filled with Penny's spastic gesticulations, my father cuffed him and loaded him into the back of the cruiser. Penny kept his head down, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, but I could feel the exasperation radiating from him.
"Sorry about this, Bells, but you understand. Don't you, baby?"
"Of course, Dad." I couldn't fault my father for taking his job seriously. Drunk drivers were on his mind tonight, what with a prom going on.
We headed back to town in silence. Instead of going to the station, Charlie drove to what I assumed was Penny's house, a large, two-story Victorian on the edge of town. By the look of it, the home had been lovingly and painstakingly restored. Penny's parents had to be loaded.
"Sit tight, son. I'm going to go talk to your father."
"Yes, sir."
My gaze darted to the rear-view mirror, barely catching a glimpse of Penny's green eyes before he looked away. My father wasn't ten feet from the car when I heard a muttered "fuck" from the backseat. I bit my lip to stifle my giggle—not because Penny's situation was the least bit funny, but because I was thinking the exact same thing.
"What are you smiling about?"
"Nothing, sorry."
When I looked at his reflection this time, he was rolling his eyes at my apology—a bad habit I'd begun in middle school whenever I couldn't handle something that was said.
"Do you normally dress like a leprechaun and ride around in cop cars on Saturday nights?" he asked.
A secondary coping mechanism, along with my pointless regrets, was nervous laughter, which bubbled out of me rather loudly. I probably should have been insulted by his comment—the dress I was wearing had cost me a year's worth of allowances—but from his perspective, I'm sure I looked pretty odd.
"Irish folklore is nothing to joke about," I said, employing my last line of defence: humour. "If anyone in this car needs a fairy with magical powers, it's you. Hi. Lila Leprechaun. I'm here to grant you three wishes."
He threw his head back and laughed, the hearty sound tumbling from his wide-open mouth. I took in his angled jaw, accented by reddish stubble that was the same colour as his crazy hair. Along with his killer smile, high cheekbones, and lush lashes, Penny was a hell of a looker. Just the sight of him made my heart race.
"Can you get Papa Leprechaun to drop the charges?"
"No can do. I only grant shoe repairs, pots of gold, and sexual favours. I guess I can't help you."
"I like the sound of the last one," he said, a mischievous, lopsided grin on his face.
Before I had a chance to reply, Charlie opened the back door of the cruiser, took Penny by the shoulder, and pulled him out of the vehicle.
"Hi, Bella." Beside my window stood Dr. Cullen, surgeon and ER doctor in our little city. "I'm so sorry Edward interrupted your prom."
My eyes darted between Dr. Cullen's face and my lap while my fingers nervously brushed against the crisp fabric of my skirt. I'm sure my self-conscious smile looked ridiculous. "No biggie."
Dr. Cullen assured Charlie that his son was neither drunk nor on drugs, merely overtired after working a double shift at Forks Community Hospital. Charlie removed Penny's cuffs, and went back to his conversation with Dr. Cullen. Penny slouched casually against the squad car while he waited for them to finish, a smug expression on his face. I got the feeling he wore that physiognomy a lot.
When Dr. Cullen and my father moved to the driver's side of the car, Penny leaned into my window.
"Maybe next time I'll get to take you up on your offer to blow me."
My blush spread like wildfire, flaming across my cheeks and flashing down my neck. I struggled to look him in the face when I replied. "Leprechauns are forbidden to become sexually involved with our captors. It looks very bad on our résumés. Besides, I only blow my friends, and since I don't know you from a hole in the wall…"
"We're all friends in Forks," he told me with a wink.
It was true in a sense. In the four months I'd lived there, I'd learned quickly that everyone knew everyone else, and nobody's business was private. Somehow, Penny's business had escaped me—which meant he couldn't have been in town long.
"Maybe next time you grace Forks with your presence, we'll become better acquainted."
He chortled, too sure of himself to even be embarrassed. "I'll be here all summer, ready and willing, if you catch my drift. Bye, Sprite."
I heard through the grapevine that Penny entered Harvard Medical School around the same time I left for Stanford. Despite how badly I wanted to, I never did catch him in those intervening months and, with a 3,200-mile separation between us, I was pretty sure I never would.
Six years later, I left my life in Palo Alto behind me to return to Forks. Moving back was a detour I'd never planned to take, dictated by the drug dealer who shot my father. Small-town living was stifling. It didn't begin to feel like home until I met Riley.
Riley Biers was a kindergarten teacher who moved in down the street from Charlie. He was kind and handsome, a rare combination of traits in my experience. Standing a foot taller than me with a head of thick, blond hair, I was smitten with him from the get-go. He had a kind, gentle manner about him that made him easy to be around.
After dating for three months, we moved in together, much to my father's chagrin. Charlie was old-fashioned, so I understood his reservations about "premarital cohabitation." He refused to acknowledge that life was a lot faster paced now, compared to when he was my age, or even that his marriage to my mother might have had half a chance if they'd taken the time to really get to know each other before marching down the aisle on a romantic whim. I knew it would take him some time to adjust to my choice.
Riley and I spent our first coupled Thanksgiving in different states while he visited his parents in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Charlie didn't miss the chance to rib me about his absence.
"He won't buy the cow if he gets the milk for free," he mumbled while I passed him the potatoes.
"Am I the cow in this scenario?" I asked, hoping that if I pointed out how unfair he was being, he'd drop the subject. "Because if I am, and Riley has to 'buy' me, wouldn't that make me a prostitute? A bovine bawd? A harlot heifer? A moo moll?"
"That's what you learned in California? Thirty-two synonyms for hooker?" He glared at me, doing his best to appear exasperated, but his twitching moustache betrayed his amusement.
I smiled at my plate of food. "Thirty-three."
That was the last time Charlie complained about my living arrangements.
I finally crossed paths with Edward Cullen at a party that December. It turned out that his wife taught first grade at the same school as Riley. Gianna was a tall, Mediterranean goddess with slender curves, glossy black hair, and olive skin. Right off the bat, I got the impression she didn't like me. After she ignored my umpteenth attempt at small talk, I gave up trying and left her talking with Riley.
I mingled with other party guests, observing Edward from a distance. Twenty-seven looked good on Penny, despite his cold fish of a wife. A part of me was disappointed that he was off the market, the ever-present 'might-have-been' lurking in the back of my mind. He'd unknowingly left a big impression on me the day we'd met. The intensity of his gaze and those striking green eyes—so alive and mysterious—were unforgettable. No one had ever looked at me that way before. I couldn't quite find the guts to approach him. If he didn't remember me, I'd be crushed.
"Isn't it illegal for a leprechaun to appear in public without the required green uniform, Sprite?"
I turned to the left and found the very man I'd been thinking about looking at me with a silly grin on his face. I returned his smile and smoothed out the red dress I was wearing.
"Not on holidays."
"Christmas isn't for another ten days." The mischievous glint in his eyes was impossible to miss.
"We're allowed to wear red, too. You can look it up, Penny."
"Penny, eh?" He ran a hand through his coppery hair and chuckled. "I guess one good nickname deserves another."
"Linguistic one-upmanship is kind of our thing."
"What's it been? Five? Six years? Last I heard, you were living in California. What on earth dragged you back to Forks?"
"Charlie needed help after he was shot."
"Of course. My father mentioned he'd been injured. How's he doing?"
"Fully recovered, thank goodness. What about you? Of all the places to practise medicine, you picked your hometown?"
He shrugged and looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Forks kind of picked me."
"Is your wife from here?"
"You've met Gianna?" For some strange reason, he looked disappointed.
"She works with my boyfriend. He teaches kindergarten."
"You're shitting me! You and Riley?"
"You know Riley?"
"We went to high school together. During college we lost touch and reconnected when he moved back to town. He told me he was living with someone, but I had no idea it was you. I guess it's a good thing you and I never hooked up."
I couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "We barely knew each other."
"Hey, you offered to blow me. I was the gentleman who refused."
"You didn't refuse; you told me you were ready, willing and able."
"Well, I am a man. But I didn't hold you to it."
Even though I couldn't get him to admit it was opportunity, not virtue that stopped him from pressing the issue, it was wonderful to catch up with him. He managed to stir up all of my old feelings for him with a single smile. It didn't hurt that our easy rapport hadn't disappeared. Attentive, passionate, funny, and engaging, he still gave me butterflies with the intensity of his stare. His wife was one lucky lady.
That night when Riley and I made love, I imagined the scent of Penny's cologne, and pictured his pale green eyes. Riley's hair was too long and curly to pass for Penny's, so I avoided threading my fingers through it.
My orgasm came easily.
xxx
Riley was away for both Christmas and New Year's Eve. His absence on holidays was becoming a habit. I loved that he cared so much about his parents, but I hated being without him. It felt like everyone had a significant other around but me.
I began to hope for an invitation to join him the next time he went, but Riley never offered. When Easter rolled around and he made plans for yet another trip to Santa Fe, I invited myself along. He flat-out refused to take me, claiming his ultra-conservative parents wouldn't approve of us living together and that he wanted to protect me from their judgment.
That May, his mother fell ill, and the frequency of Riley's travelling skyrocketed. Going on with my life while he flew to and from his mother's hospital bed left me feeling like the worst girlfriend in the world. I begged him to take me. Her health was steadily declining, and not only did I want to be there to support him, but I wanted to meet her before it was too late. He promised that he'd bring me if his mother improved, but until that happened, he thought any introduction would hinder her recovery.
I ran into Edward at the airport in June. He was returning from a getaway with his brother—a birthday gift from Gianna.
"You look like shit, Sprite."
"We can't all be shiny, Penny."
He forced a smile, but his piercing gaze betrayed his concern. "I hope you get some rest on your vacation."
I explained I was only there to drop off Riley and detailed his mother's situation. Penny looked at me strangely, probably shocked by the news of Mrs. Biers's illness, then extended get-well wishes.
When I asked about his wife, he smiled and told me things were great. I might have believed him if his eyes weren't so sad.
Riley was gone for weeks at a time over the summer. I selfishly longed for the return of the school year at the end of August, just so he'd be around more often. When it happened, he was cold and distant. I knew how important his mom was, so I did my best to overlook the way he kept me at arm's length.
My father threw me a surprise party for my birthday in September. I was in no mood to celebrate and neither was Riley. By the time we got home, he was downright ornery. I tried to draw him to me, giving him my best shot at a striptease, but he turned away.
"There's someone else, Bella."
I wondered how on Earth he could have had time to meet someone, let alone fall for her. I asked the stupidest question. "How long?"
"A while."
"But your mom…"
When his eyes met mine, I knew it had all been a lie—his trips to Santa Fe, his mother's illness.
Our entire relationship.
"Bella…"
"I don't want to hear it."
Nothing he could say would take away my humiliation, or excuse his disrespect. He didn't deserve a chance to absolve himself of his guilt.
I went to a motel for the night to give myself time to figure out what to do next. I'd given up my dreams to take care of Charlie, and I knew he wanted me to stay. I just couldn't. Forks was too small a city to face all the pity-filled stares and whispering. I wanted more for my life than that. I began applying for jobs, anything that remotely related to my English degree. The where, what, and how much didn't matter to me. As soon as I was offered a job, I took it, and landed in Chicago.
Ironically, the first familiar face I saw at O'Hare was Penny's. I knew he'd heard about Riley and me because he couldn't look me in the eye.
"You knew, didn't you?" My accusation was phrased as a question, but it didn't require an answer. I thought back to his strange expression at the Port Angeles airport in June. "How could you know and not say something?"
"It wasn't like that, Bella."
"You men and your fucking guy code! You're a coward, Edward, a fucking coward. You let your buddy make a fool out of me because you were too chickenshit to tell me he was running around behind my back."
"I didn't know he was cheating on you, just that his mother wasn't sick."
"You didn't think I might want to know that little tidbit of information?"
He blew out a frustrated breath, running his fingers through his hair. "I'd seen his parents a few weeks before, but I wasn't sure that his mother hadn't become sick in the interim. I wasn't about to hurt you when all I had were suspicions."
"Nice! Awesome! Well, at least I know where I fall on the scale of importance. Enjoy your life, Edward, but stay the hell out of mine."
"You don't mean that, Bella. That's just your anger talking. You have every right to be pissed off; Riley's an asshole, but he's the one who hurt you, not me."
"You don't get it. You're worse than he is. I would expect a cheating lover to hide his indiscretions, but a friend would tell me, even if it were only a suspicion. That's what friends do."
"I made a mistake, Bella. I'm sorry."
"Not half as sorry as I am."
xxx
Life in Chicago was fast-paced. I threw myself into my job, welcoming the long hours and hard work so I had less time to think about Riley's betrayal. By the time three months had passed, I had a promotion, a condo, and a small group of friends.
My boss, Rosalie Hale, and I quickly became close. She shot from the hip, and while some thought she was ruthless, I liked that she didn't take shit from anyone. We bonded over Fuzzy Navels and Bartles & Jaymes wine coolers while we shared the tales of our broken hearts. Unlike me, she had unknowingly been the cheater, having fallen in love with a married man who'd lied about being single. It was definitely her ex's fault that Rose was a little icy until you got to know her, but I couldn't blame her for that. I found it hard to trust people, too.
The one thing Chicago didn't have was Alice. She'd moved to Los Angeles shortly after high school to pursue her acting career. After a whirlwind romance, she married her television-producer boyfriend, and they were now expecting their first child. I'd spent months trying to convince her to move—she hated the smog and gridlock of LA—and finally lured Jasper and her to Chicago with a job offer at Harpo Studios. Rose had to pull a lot of strings to get the interview, but she knew how badly I wanted my friend nearby. It was one of the happiest days of my life when Jasper accepted the position as a producer on The Oprah Winfrey Show.
After seeing Penny at O'Hare, he'd called a few times to make further apologies, but I didn't want to talk about it. To me, there was no point in rehashing the past. What was done was done.
Out of the blue, he showed up at my door. I opened my mouth to make a joke, but closed it when I noticed his pained expression, realizing something had to be wrong for him to come to me unannounced. I stepped aside and let him into my apartment. His body language reminded me of the first day I'd met him, angry and afraid. I couldn't imagine why he'd come.
I took his coat and got him a cup of coffee, and we settled down onto my couch.
When it was clear he was having trouble speaking, I began. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to apologize."
"You did that months ago, Edward."
He pled with me, the hopelessness in his voice unmistakable. "I need you to understand."
"I do."
"You do?" His scepticism was expected. Insight was never my problem. He wanted me to condone his deceit, and I never would. Forgiveness was much simpler.
"It's in the past. Leave it there."
"That's just it, Bella. It's not in the fucking past at all!"
"It is for me." I didn't want to give any more energy to that part of my life.
The desperation in his pale eyes gave way to tears. Handsome, charming, indomitable Penny had finally yielded, and it killed me to see him broken.
"Tell me," I whispered.
"He was fucking my wife." The words were raspy and weak, full of so much pain, but I understood their significance. My stomach roiled, as if Riley's treachery was current.
"I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry? They did this to you."
"Maybe, but that doesn't mean you deserved to be hurt."
Unsure of what else to do, I cradled him to my breast, holding him through his shaking shoulders, runny nose, and incoherent muttering. I didn't let go until he found the strength to pull himself together.
He bowed his head, letting his shoulders slump. "I don't know what the fuck to do now. My whole life has gone to shit."
"That's not true," I told him. "You have your medical career and your family. You remember how to dream, don't you? Begin again; I did."
"What? Like move? Find a new job, a new city, a new life?"
"Why not? You could try New York, or somewhere in California. Even Seattle would be better than staying in Forks. You'd still be close to home but far enough away to create some emotional distance."
"I have a brother here in Chicago," he said quietly.
"Then come to Chicago. I'll even introduce you to my friends. You'll have a built-in cheering squad."
"The only one I want on my team is you."
I pointed at myself. "Head cheerleader."
"Oh, Sprite." It was more of a sigh than spoken words. He pulled me into his body and wrapped me in his arms for the first time.
Being pressed up against his chest was a hundred kinds of right and wrong at the same time. It was too soon after Riley, too much to expect of my heart and head, too undefined and unknown to find solace in the embrace of the man I'd always wanted. Yet, it wasn't enough. Burning with need, unbridled possibility, and exponential chemistry, his touch made my body come alive. I was too gutless to ask if he felt what I felt, and too fearful of what it would mean if I pulled away.
His breath on my neck, warm and shallow, sent goose bumps cascading across my skin. The graze of his lips across my ear made me shiver. My name from his lips aroused every nerve ending in my body.
"It hurts so much," he said. "Make it stop hurting."
And I wanted to with everything in me. I wanted to caress his bare skin and leave it blazing. I wanted to take his cock in my mouth and suck him until I tasted him on my tongue. I wanted him to bend me over, spread my legs, and fuck our pain away.
But he couldn't fuck me hard enough to end tomorrow. The pain would claw its way back in as soon as he pulled out. Add to that the worthlessness when he left and the loneliness when I woke up by myself in the middle of the night, not to mention the outright rejection. He never said he was over his wife, or even that he planned to leave her. If I let Edward in only for him to leave me, his withdrawal had the power to destroy what was left of my heart.
If there were no Riley or Gianna, the payoff of one night of passion might be worth the risk. But they existed, and they'd both betrayed Edward. I couldn't betray him, too. On another night, under different circumstances, we would be great together, but not tonight. There was too much on the line.
"If I could, I would," I whispered. I'd just be a temporary fix, a bandage that was too small to stop the bleeding for very long. "It takes time."
He didn't let go, so I didn't either, content to be there for as long as he needed me. Eventually, he fell asleep in my arms, but he was gone by the time I woke up.
Restarting his life wasn't as simple as just leaving like I had. It took him a few months to line up a job, sell his home, and begin divorce proceedings. We stayed in touch by phone and mail.
When he got to Chicago, he moved in with his brother Emmett, a linebacker for the Chicago Bears. His letters waned; the phone calls increased. We still didn't see much of each other. I was waiting for the official end of his marriage before I considered making a move on a future with him. Not that he'd mentioned one. Since that night, he hadn't said a single word about us being together. After a while, I began to wonder if it had even happened, if I was just the girl who was convenient to scratch the itch in that moment.
The seemingly endless line of leggy, blonde bombshells parading through his life slowly dismantled my hope of us being together. I doubted he knew what he needed. It was obvious that replacing the pain with sex wasn't helping him.
Everyone could see he was restless and unhappy. I tried to be his friend, but watching him make stupid choices wasn't easy. The world around us was crumbling, too: the end of the Cold War, the tearing down of the Berlin Wall, the Tiananmen Square massacre, the Exxon Valdez disaster, the abandonment of communist regimes across Eastern Europe. 1989 was a time of great change for everyone, and no one took it harder than Penny. One day, he disappeared. No one knew where he'd gone—not even his own brother knew his whereabouts. According to Emmett, Edward was there one day, and gone the next, no note or explanation.
A couple of months passed before I received a letter. Penny was doing a stint with Doctors Without Borders, Médecins Sans Frontières he'd called it. He said he needed to be of more service, beyond the tonsillitis and stitches he'd been administering in the Emergency Room here in Chicago. That's how he'd found himself in one of the most dangerous places on Earth.
With the withdrawal of Soviet troops from Afghanistan, the Afghan's communist government was left to its own devices to fight the Mujahideen. So were its people. That put Edward in the middle of their civil war.
The Soviet Union continued to back the Afghan government, and the U.S., along with Saudi Arabia and Pakistan, provided military support to the Mujahideen, so the war raged on. We'd go for months without hearing from him. I stayed glued to the television news each night, waiting for any kind of clue that might help me figure out if he was dead or alive.
The rare letters that got through didn't provide much information. If his location was disclosed, it wasn't current by the time the information was in our hands, but it usually wasn't mentioned at all. He never opened up about how he was doing. He let the details of the horror unfolding around him speak on his behalf. At the end of each letter, he said he loved and missed us, and that he'd be home with us soon. We prayed for that very thing.
When Boris Yeltsin declared the Soviets could no longer provide assistance to Afghanistan, I dared to hope for an end to the war and for Edward's safe return. Hope was all I had. Then, in April of 1992, following the fall of the Afghan government, the appointment of a new interim government and the signing of the Peshawar Accord, there was a small window for escape and the phone call we'd been waiting for.
As I stood in O'Hare with Emmett, seconds felt like hours. We had no definite time of arrival for Edward; all we knew was that he'd be coming off an American Airlines flight from JFK.
He appeared at the gate, but there was little relief at the sight of him. Grey strands invaded his very short copper hair, dark purple circles weighed down his eyes. He was fifteen pounds too thin and deathly pale—a ghost of his former self.
I stayed back, letting Emmett go to him first. The smile on Penny's face when his brother enveloped him in a hug was the first sign of life in him.
"Bro," Emmett said, a bluffed firmness in his voice. His hands, flat against Penny's back, were trembling.
"Em."
"I'm so fucking glad you're home."
"Me, too, Em. Me, too."
"Don't ever pull shit like this again, you hear me? I thought I lost you, man." Emmett patted Penny's back.
When Penny pulled away, Emmett wiped his cheeks with the back of his hands.
I stepped forward. A thousand words ran through my head, things like hi, and how are you? and I'm sorry.
None of them were right.
I wasn't giving my condolences, despite how macabre Penny looked. I was thrilled he was alive and finally home, but I couldn't find the words to express it. So I ran to him at top speed and threw myself at him, grasping his neck with my arms and wrapping my legs around his waist.
He staggered backwards with a quiet "oomph."
Emmett steadied us. I couldn't stop the tears when Penny whispered into my neck. "Hi, Sprite."
"You're really here." Though I could feel his frame against me, and his arms around my back, I still couldn't believe it.
His voice was almost inaudible. "Barely."
Emmett drove Edward back to his place so he could rest. I stayed by Edward and watched him sleep, afraid to let him out of my sight. Emmett asked me to give him some space, feeling that was what his brother needed. I begrudgingly obliged him.
I called Penny each day. He was quiet and a little distant on the phone. The couple of times I stopped by to see him, he wasn't up for company.
I didn't push.
A week later, he came to see me. He looked better, more rested at least, but I got the sense that he had a long road ahead of him.
"Did you know I tried for years to forget you in that stupid green dress?" he asked.
I snickered. "I thought you liked me in green."
"I do. I pictured you in your prom dress a million times when I was in Afghanistan. I swear that image alone gave me something to fight for. It got me back here alive."
"Hey." I reached out and took his hand in mine.
"I wanted so badly to ask you to wait for me before I left, but I knew it wasn't fair."
Until that moment, I'd never been sure we were on the same page. With so much left unspoken between us, I needed him to know the truth.
"You didn't have to ask. I was already waiting for you."
A sad smile came to his lips. "I can't let you do that any longer. You have to stop."
"Why?"
"You deserve a chance at the life you wanted, Bella—a stable man who can one day be a husband and a father to your children. And me..." He shook his head. "I don't even think I can be human any longer."
I wanted to hit him, hug him, cry with him, but I knew none of it would help.
"You're just giving up?"
"No, I'm being realistic. I'm trying to let you go, but it seems I can't even do that well. Unless you want me out of your life completely, I'd still like to be your friend."
I wasn't ready to let go of him, but if I wanted to honour him, I had to give him what he thought he needed, at least for now. "After all this time, you're finally going to admit we're friends."
"I admitted we were friends the day we met; you were the one who denied it."
"That's because you distracted me with all that red hair. It's blinding."
"Go and be happy, Sprite. If anyone on this Earth deserves to find happiness, it's you."
I agreed to his request to give him peace of mind while he healed and hopefully found perspective. Secretly, I promised to revisit the idea of a relationship. I wanted happiness for both of us.
But I was pretty sure we'd only find it together.
xxx
At Penny's urging, I started dating other people on the condition he did the same. He wasn't likely to do it on his own. I figured it would help him get back into a more normal routine and save me from being his rebound relationship.
Dating at twenty-eight wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Men treated me as though I was trying to corner them into marriage and fatherhood. It was off-putting to discuss forever with a guy before I really knew him as a person or even had a chance to figure out if I genuinely liked him. The few who gave me the benefit of the doubt wanted to move into a sexual relationship at the speed of sound. Whatever happened to getting to know someone beforehand?
Penny didn't have much luck either. He seemed to draw in every crazy thirty-something in the Chicago metropolitan area. I wondered if he was psychologically unable to commit himself to a relationship, and chose that sort of woman so he wouldn't have to feel guilty when it didn't work out.
It became a tradition to get together every couple of weeks to catch up. His latest tale included a woman who stopped him outside a Starbucks and manoeuvred herself between him and the car door so he couldn't get away.
"Stop laughing at me, Sprite. I was scared shitless. That broad brought new meaning to the word desperate."
"Maybe you're looking for women in the wrong places. You've tried the gym, and clearly that's not working out for you. Work certainly isn't the right place. Women just hear the word 'doctor' and lose their shit. You need to hang out in upscale restaurants, museums, and charity galas; find yourself a nice rich lady who has no expectations of you but being her sex slave."
He scoffed. "It's not as if you're having any more luck. You've been out with half a dozen men so far, and you haven't slept with any of them."
"That's because I'm pretty sure none of them knew what a penis was."
"No, it's because on some level, you're guilty of exactly what they accuse you of. You want a man who's marriage material, even if you're not ready to get married yet. You judge every single one of them against some idealized list of credentials that no man can live up to."
"Bullshit! Wanting to connect with guys intellectually first doesn't mean I'm judging them as potential husbands. And choosing not to have sex with them is what's right for me. I want more than a roll in the hay."
"That's exactly my point. You want the promise of a future before you seal the deal."
I rolled my eyes. "Seal the deal? Do you hear yourself? What's wrong with waiting for a little chemistry?"
"There's nothing wrong with it, if that's all it would take."
"So you think some guy sticking his dick in me is going to magically cure all my problems? You've been doing that to women for months, and it hasn't helped you."
"At least I'm trying."
My anger got the better of me. "Oh, I see. Your way is the only way to find lasting happiness. Fuck everybody, and let your cock tell you whom to be with based on how her pussy feels wrapped around you. I guess I'll just have to wait for my turn."
His eyes flashed to mine. "That's a low blow, Bella. You know my past, and even if you don't have every detail of what I've been through, give me the benefit of the doubt that my reasons for staying away from you are honourable. If you can't do that, at least have the decency to be respectful. I could never treat you as though you were inconsequential."
"Maybe you should."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"You keep me at arms length, treat me like I'm fragile, and assume I can't cope with your shit. I've been waiting for you for as long as I can remember: waiting for you to look me up in Forks, for your divorce to become final, for you to finish with the blonde slut brigade. I waited 819 days for you to come home from Afghanistan, Edward. I've been waiting for my turn for over ten years."
He cursed under his breath. "Our timing has always been off. And Afghanistan is a mistake I can't take back. I have to live with that."
"Except you're not the only one living with it. If you truly don't want me, then I have to let you go." That much was clear now, a sudden, vicious understanding.
"This was never about me not wanting you."
"You say one thing and do another. I can't keep doing this dance with you."
"Are you saying we can't be friends?" His voice was defensive, but there was so much hurt in his eyes.
"I could never be just friends with you."
"You don't mean that."
I laughed bitterly. "That's rich! It's okay for you to say you can't be with me and tell me I should see other people, but I can't turn it around and admit I'm not able to be there for you the way you need me to be?"
"You're not being fair. Those are two very different things."
"Nothing about this is fair. We're complicated and messy, but I'm all in, Edward. You have to choose for yourself."
"Bella."
My name was a warning I couldn't heed.
"Let me make this easy for you. I'll do what you told me to do. I'll find someone who wants me."
xxx
I met Jacob on a chilly November night. I was waiting for the El after leaving a party at Rosalie's when some creep tried to steal my purse. He got a few steps down the platform and literally ran into a tall, dark-haired man. The handsome stranger proceeded to punch the would-be thief in the nose and grab my bag back for me. We began talking as we waited for the cops to show up, and the rest was history.
Jacob was a sweet, well-intentioned man who worked as a mechanic. He loved me from the beginning, but I was more cautious. Loving him back took me more time than it should have. Edward might have been out of my life, but he still owned a piece of my heart. Jacob worked for a year to convince me to move in with him. He spent the next two years asking me to marry him.
It wasn't him. When I looked at him, I saw the future everyone dreamed of—marriage, a house, kids—and I knew I'd be happy with him. I was just scared to believe I could have it.
I never knew whether that fear was well-rooted or if it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Either way, when Jacob fell in love with a woman he worked with, I let him go. Maybe I never owned Jacob's heart the way I thought I had. He certainly never owned mine the way he deserved.
In the end, we made better friends than lovers.
Temporarily homeless, I lived in Alice's guest room for a couple of months until the guy I rented my condo to moved out. It was safer there than at Rosalie's. Rosalie had forgiven me for letting Jacob follow his heart, but she was bound and determined to force me back into the dating world. Alice wasn't much better. After ten years of wedded bliss with Jasper, she thought everyone's love life was a happy ending waiting to happen.
I'd spent my entire adult life being rejected by men who were supposed to love me. I needed some time by myself to recoup.
My friends helped me move back into the condo on the last Saturday in January 1995. Once it started snowing, it was pretty easy to talk them into heading home. Alice suggested that I leave the unpacking and help her prepare for the Super Bowl party she was having the following day. She meant well, but we both knew it was time for me to get used to being alone.
Not five minutes after everyone left, there was a knock on the door. On my way to answer it, I spied Alice's mittens on one of the boxes and grabbed them. I began speaking as I twisted the knob. "I know, I know; you'd forget your head if it wasn't attached. Here are your mittens."
Only it wasn't Alice. It was the broad shoulders, wind-reddened cheeks, and hopeful eyes of the man who still exercised dominion over my heart. The sight of him stopped me dead in my tracks.
He pointed to the mittens in my hand. "Turquoise isn't really my colour."
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to help my friend unpack."
I hated that his sheepish grin still made me swoon.
He stepped around me, inviting himself in with a six pack of Coors tucked under his arm. After putting his beer in the fridge, he threw his jacket onto the counter and turned to me. "So where are we starting?"
"We aren't starting anywhere. I'll start in the bedroom. You can show yourself out."
He snickered. "That's not going to happen."
"Fine." Stuck between indignation and excitement, I went about my tasks, hoping to figure out what he wanted.
He followed me into the bedroom. We worked in silence as we set up the bed frame and mattress. He offered to put the sheets on so I could start on getting my clothes in the dresser. I was in the living room digging for a particular box when I heard him swear. A minute later, another muffled "fuck" drifted out of the bedroom.
"Bella?"
"Yes?"
"Can I get a hand in here?"
"Just a second."
When I got back to the room, Penny was face down on the bed, spread eagle, trying to hold all four corners of the mattress pad by himself. The sight of him made me giggle.
"That's right. Laugh at a man when he's at his most vulnerable."
"If making a bed renders you vulnerable, I'd hate to see what chopping wood would do to you."
"Will you shut your mouth and come help me?"
I couldn't resist tickling his feet as I lifted the fabric from under his toes and pulled it around the mattress. He squirmed out of my reach, a deep, rich chuckle rumbling out of him. I'd always loved the sound of his laugh.
"Come get the ones up here now," he said.
I repeated the process on either side of him. He rolled over and gave me a dimpled smile.
"That wasn't that hard, was it?" Despite his playful tone, his question felt like a challenge,
"You make everything more difficult."
It was a cheap shot, but not undeserved. I should have expected his sarcasm.
"It's my station in life to make your every living moment arduous."
"Well, you've done a hell of a job so far," I muttered under my breath.
"Oh, I'm all in."
In shock, my eyes met his. "What did you say?"
"I said I'm all in."
Intentionally throwing my words back in my face, as though he was mocking me, was so not fair.
"That's not funny. And I'm not doing this with you."
He rolled off the bed and got to his feet. For a moment, I thought he was leaving, but he was just getting the clean sheets from the top of the dresser. He flicked the fitted sheet across the mattress and motioned towards my side of the bed to bid my assistance.
"It wasn't meant to be funny, and we are doing this."
I pulled my corners tight and secured them under the mattress.
"I don't even want you here."
It was a last ditch attempt to quibble. I'd heard the seriousness in his tone. He was planning to hash things out, with or without my cooperation.
"Yes, you do," he said, smoothing the creases with his hands. He reached for the top sheet, laying it across the bed in the same manner as its match.
"Is that why you're here? To tell me what to do?"
"If that's what it takes, then yes." He started to lose some of his composure as he shoved the pillows into their cases.
"Go away." I turned my back to him and sat down on the edge of the bed, wiling my tears to stay put.
"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered.
I felt the mattress dip beside me and turned to see him lying on his back, his head comfortably nestled on the pillows. He beckoned me to come to him, but I shook my head.
"I know you don't believe what I said, and I understand why. Just give me five minutes. If you still want me to go, I'll let you try to convince me to leave." Before I had time to roll my eyes, he was pulling me into his arms. He tucked me into his side, leaving his hand resting on my lower back.
I waited, barely breathing, soaking in his warmth and scent. Despite the length of our separation, my body was still programmed to react to his.
He stared at the ceiling while he spoke. "Renesmee is the stupidest name in the history of names, and Jacob is dumber than a post to choose her and let you slip through his fingers. I made that mistake once. I won't make it again.
"Since the day I met you, there has been a constant war inside my head between what I wanted and what was right for you. You were only eighteen, too young to get messed up with a twenty-two-year-old on his way out of Forks.
"Then you were twenty-four and unavailable. I wanted you in spite of my wife and Riley. I'd never been so jealous of another man in all my life. When my marriage started to fall apart, I thought it was karma for all the times I'd emotionally betrayed Gianna. When I found out about the affair, I was so fucking angry with myself for giving Riley the opportunity to hurt you, all because I wasn't man enough to admit my feelings for you. I could have saved us both so much heartache.
"Then you were twenty-five, and I reached for you. When you shot me down, I thought I'd blown my chances with you. Losing you, on top of everything else in my life, sent me into a tailspin. I was consumed by anger and self-hatred. Each day I slipped a little further into my own rancour. Afghanistan was supposed to be my penance.
"And then you were twenty-eight and so angelic. I couldn't bear to shadow you in the darkness I was filled with. When I told you to find someone else, I truly thought it was the only way to protect you from what I'd become.
"Then you were thirty and moving in with Jacob. I thought about killing myself that day, do you know that? It was what made me realize how badly I needed help. It took a while to get back to centre, to stop blaming myself for everything under the sun. I have my shrink to thank for that.
"And now you're thirty-two and on your own. I don't want to waste another moment. I've spent the better part of thirteen years telling myself to move on, but I could never let you go. My heart has always known that you were the one—that it had to be you or nobody."
He shifted on to his side, gently cupping my face with his hand. "I swear I won't screw this up again. We'll do it your way, as fast or slow as you need. Just please, please, please say you'll give me a chance."
I smiled, feeling lighter than I had in so long. "Technically, I still owe you three wishes."
"Sorry, Sprite," he said, returning my grin. "This can't be one of my leprechaun wishes. Your free will is imperative here."
"I haven't had free will since you captured me in 1982. You have to release me if you want the choice to stay to be mine."
"Can I make sure you don't have any tricks up your sleeve first?"
"How are you going to do that?"
Without another word, he rolled us until I was flat against the mattress. Smoother than I would have thought possible, he used his knee to separate my legs and settled his body into the space he created.
"I have my ways, Ms. Swan."
He began at the hem of my shirt, pushing it up ever so slightly with his fingers. His nose skimmed along the newly exposed skin. His mouth followed, painting the same trail with whispered kisses. Deft fingers unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans. I heard him groan when he lowered his head and licked a path from my navel to the top of my panties.
"I thought this was about my sleeves," I teased.
"If you insist." He sat back and pulled me up to him. The look in his eyes could have reduced me to ashes. As he peeled off my sweatshirt little by little, his quiet voice was tinged with reverence. "You don't know how long I've waited for this."
I lay back so he could continue. The years of build up to this moment had made me exceptionally patient.
He eased my jeans off me in the same adoring manner, his fingers sweeping over every inch of my thighs, calves, and feet.
In only my bra and panties, I stared at him expectantly. "As you can see, there's nothing up my sleeves. Now what are you going to do with me?"
He leaned forward, supporting his weight on his arms and holding himself over me. "This," he said.
He pressed his mouth to mine.
I wasn't prepared to be undone by a single kiss, but his tender, affectionate lips brought tears to my eyes. There was so much relief and longing in the gentle pressure of his mouth against mine.
"Tell me." I was daring him to say the words, to prove he had faith in us, that he wanted us together as much as I did.
"I release you." The tremor in his voice made my heart clench.
"And I'm here to stay. I'd give you a hundred chances, and then a hundred more, if that's what it took to keep you. That's what love is about."
"You love me?" he asked, unable to hide his shock.
"With my whole heart."
"Would you trust me if I said that, despite everything I've put you through, I love you, too?"
I nodded, unable to stop the unshed tears from spilling down my cheeks.
"Then say it." Tit for tat, he needed my pledge in the same way I needed his.
"I love you," I whispered.
He sat back with the sappiest grin on his face and stripped off his t-shirt. "Say it again."
For every I love you that came from my lips, he removed a piece of clothing—first his, then mine. Once we were both naked, he indulged his every whim as he lavished my body with pleasure, kissing, licking, and fingering me into a frenzy. And when I understood what bliss was—how he delivered it with every touch—he pressed into me and redefined it. The friction, the fullness, the delicious surge of heat and silk as we moved together were my new translation of ecstasy. With his muscles quivering under my fingertips, he coaxed me with every thrust, nudging me to the edge and then pushing me over with a final plunge of his hips.
I'd never slept so tangled up in someone; until then, I'd never wanted to. I opened my eyes to find him watching me. He smiled and said, "You know you're going to have to leave some room in that closet for my stuff."
"What makes you think I'm letting you move in here?"
"For one, I'd never expect you to give up your place for me. And even though you haven't said it, you don't want to waste another second either."
He was right. The weight of the time we'd already lost was enough of a burden.
"Not when we've already wasted four-hundred and ten million of them."
"Is that from that When Harry Met Sally movie?" he asked.
"No, that would have been something about "when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible," which also works remarkably well here. Come to think of it, we're a lot like Harry and Sally. It took them almost as long as us to get together. They had frank conversations about sex, and at the end of the movie, Harry realizes he fucked up."
"And Sally realizes she was the difficult one."
"I'm not difficult."
"Not always, Sprite, but at times, you kind of are."
I grinned. "In the spirit of honesty, at times, you're kind of an asshole."
With a nod of his head, he said, "Agreed."
When the next thought hit me, I laughed out loud. "If we're going to base our lives on Harry and Sally's example, we need to introduce Rosalie and Emmett. If the movie's right, they're destined to be each other's soulmates."
"Wait. Emmett's my best friend and brother, but I never would have set you up with him. It goes against the whole idea of keeping you for myself, which I absolutely always wanted to do. Plus, the idea of passing you around my family is really unpleasant."
"It's the spirit of the movie, Penny, not the emulation."
"Can we get back to real life now?" he asked.
"Why?"
"Because according to our original agreement, I get three wishes. I don't want shoes or pots of gold. You know what that means, right? Two more sexual favours of my choice. And the invitation on your refrigerator says we have a Super Bowl Party to attend in a little more than twelve hours. That's a lot to accomplish before we introduce the soulmates."
"Just shut up and kiss me," I whispered.
He smiled, lowering his mouth to mine. "I thought you'd never ask."
A/N: Thank you to everyone who contributed to Gisela's memorial fund or the Alzheimer's Association, and to theswandive for organizing the GiveForward fund.
Thank you to the artists, authors, and betas who volunteered their help to this compilation.
And thank you to Diamondheart78, Inkaddict89, Sleepyvalentina, and HoldmeRansom for organizing, advertising, and rallying support for this entire project.
RIP Gisela.