A/N: Hi everyone! So, this is the first story that has ever made its way out of my notebook and into a Word Document - and then onto the internet. I'm very nervous, obviously, as this is the first time anyone will be reading something that I wrote. For now this is just a one-shot, but I'm willing to make it into a longer story if there is some interest in it. I would love any feedback that you have! Anyway, I won't bore you with more of my ramblings!
I hope you enjoy! :)
Oh, and as everyone else says, "These characters do not belong to me, they belong to the lovely Stephenie Meyer." But the story line is from my own little mind.
The Life We Imagined
It had been years since the last time she'd seen him. Sometimes she couldn't believe that the love they had once shared was even real. It felt as though it had all been a dream.
She had imagined this moment in her mind a thousand times. She would say something about how fantastic he looked, and how time had done him well. He would reply with something about how beautiful she looked, and how she looked better than she had all those years ago – and then stumble over an apology about how she looked great then too and he didn't mean it like that. She would laugh, and assure him that she knew what he went. In her mind, however, she was dressed glamorously, her hair hanging in long, stunning curls. In reality – which was of course nothing like what she had conjured up in her mind – she was dressed in her a well loved pair of black yoga pants, a grey cardigan with a white camisole underneath, and her favourite colourful scarf wrapped around her elegant neck. Her figure was nothing like it had been when they were together; her curves much more prominent now. Her gorgeous curls in messy bun on top of her head, and her glasses – which she hadn't needed all those years ago – evidence that time had not been nearly as kind to her as she had hoped. In her imagination they had definitely not been in the local grocery store, just a few blocks away from her house.
"Darling, do we need lettuce?" a voice like bells rang out from beside him. Bella tore her eyes away from the man of her past and turned to the tall, statuesque, exotic beauty that had just spoken.
"Oh. Hello," the beauty continued, sticking out one sun kissed hand, "I'm Rose."
"Bella," she replied, placing her delicate, pale hand in Rose's strong, firm grasp. She hoped that Rose was just some cousin that she never got the chance to meet. Rose turned back to the tall, handsome man next to her and the words that came out of her plump, red lips destroyed every last fantasy that Bella had.
"Emmett, sweetheart, do we need lettuce?" When he didn't respond to her, she posed another question; this time to the pretty, petite woman standing in front of them. "So, how do you know my Emmett?" Her were eyes inquisitive as she laid a manicured hand on his chest.
Emmett – Em, she thought as she recalled their time together – finally broke out of his shocked stupor and answered for her, "Oh, Bella and I went to U of T together." He was uncomfortable, she could tell. "We haven't seen each other in, God, what's it been, thirteen years?" He chuckled nervously as he scratched the back of his neck.
"Fourteen," Bella corrected quietly. "It's been fourteen years."
"Momma," a tiny voice cried, "Em won't take me to get a cookie!" Her daughter, Lilly, grabbed a hold of her leg, crocodile tears streaming down her red, cherubic cheeks.
"That's not true, Mom!" Her son, corrected. "She didn't want a cookie, so she had a brownie instead. I told her that I'm not going back just because she couldn't make up her mind."
"Nuh-uh!" Her daughter cried.
"Yeah-huh!" Her son mocked back.
"That's enough!" Bella interrupted – finality evident in her tone, "both of you. That's enough."
"You, uh, you have kids?" Emmett asked, with slight disbelief and nervousness in his voice.
"Hmm?" Bella asked, distracted by the two arguing children at her side. "Oh, yes. I do. Three of them, actually. My youngest, Charlie, is at my parents right now."
"Hello, I'm Lillian. But you can call me Lilly," the three year old interrupted, sticking out her small, delicate, toddler hand for the strangers to shake.
"Well, hello there Lilly," the tall blonde woman exclaimed. "My name is Rosalie, but you can call me Rose. It seems that both of our nicknames are beautiful flowers, huh?"
"Mhmm," Lilly hummed quietly, suddenly shy.
"And who might this handsome young man be?" Rose asked, as she turned her attention to the tall, dark haired boy.
"Everyone calls me Em," the young boy exclaimed. He then grabbed the blonde woman's hand and kissed her knuckles – the way that he had seen characters in movies do it.
"Oh, well aren't you just a little charmer?" Rose inquired, with a twinkle in her brown eyes. When she glanced at her fiancé, her face quickly fell. Emmett looked as if he had seen a ghost. The normally tanned pallor of his skin was suddenly pale, and his normally bright, lively eyes were dead.
"Em, what have I told you about that? It was cute when you were little, but now it's just weird." Bella scolded her son, with laughter in her eyes. She paid no attention to her former love, or the fact that his eyes were trained on her son, her son who had a slightly uncanny resemblance to Emmett himself.
"Emmett?" The blonde woman exclaimed. "Emmett, sweetheart? Are you alright? You look as if you've seen a ghost." Rose continued, flustered by his sudden change in appearance.
"What?" Emmett mumbled, finally coming out of his stunned stupor. "Bella, can I talk to you for a minute? Now." He forced out.
"'Now' is not really a good time for me, Emmett," Bella countered, gesturing to the children at her side. His tone reminded her of the way that he had treated her the last time that she had seen him, fourteen years ago. "How about we meet for coffee? Tomorrow morning, nine o'clock? At the coffee shop around the corner." She then hoisted her daughter up onto her hip and ushered her son to the check-out.
"Emmett? What was that all about?" Rose asked with contempt in her voice. She was confused; hadn't he just told her that this woman, Bella, had been a classmate of his nearly fifteen years ago? The unspoken words between the two of them told her otherwise. Who was this woman?
When Bella and her children got home later that afternoon, they continued their day as normal. She made eggplant parmesan for dinner – a recipe that had been passed down from her great grandmother – her husband and her eldest son's favourite meal.
They all gathered around the table that night in their respective seats. Charlie, her youngest, sat on her right in his highchair. Her son Emmett sat across from her with Lilly at his side. Her husband, Edward, sat to her left. They ate their dinner as normal, chatting with each other about their respective days.
The sounds of her family around her, with joyous smiles on their beautiful faces, assured her that she had made the right choice all of those years ago. She felt more confident about her decision than she had in years, and she felt good about her talk with Emmett tomorrow. But first she and Edward needed to have a talk with their eldest son.