Author's Note: This was inspired by the song "Boston" by Augustana. I definitely took some liberties with it, but some of the lyrics are integrated into the dialogue. I don't own them. Augustana and their record label do.

I don't own Twilight, either.

I'm not sure how it happened, but one day I woke up next to Jacob and I couldn't force myself to roll over and look at him. He obviously felt the same way, because instead of spooning me and kissing my morning-breath-flavored mouth, he kept to his side of the bed.

When he started to toss and turn, clearly waking up, I decided that it was time to get up and face the day. It was six AM on a Sunday, which was unusual. Jacob and I weren't particularly religious people, so Sundays were our sleep-in days. Our lazy days. But it was Super Bowl Sunday, and I was the owner of the most popular bakery in town, so I had to get up and go fill football party orders.

Why can't you say good morning to your boyfriend? I mulled over this as I prepared my pot of coffee. Jacob hadn't offended me, had he?

Well, not intentionally. Jacob was the kind of person who didn't want to offend anybody, no matter the cost. But maybe Alice was right. Jacob and I were...too comfortable. We both knew that we no longer had to walk on eggshells to keep from offending one another. We knew that it was okay to leave the cereal box open, the toothpaste cap off, and the wet towel in the floor. We had been together for so long that we knew each other's quirks and we had learned to live with them.

We also had learned to live without affecting one another. I no longer was bothered by the way he drank milk straight from the carton, but I no longer received breakfast in bed. Don't get me wrong; Jacob wasn't the only guilty party. I tried and failed to remember the last time I left him a fun, dirty voicemail or surprised him with pajamas other than sweatpants.

As I poured my coffee up, I was astounded at the fact that as I thought of this, I couldn't muster up one fiber of disappointment or motivation to make things better. I just didn't care.
I popped a bagel into the toaster and gazed down at my empty left hand. I had been hinting at marriage for two years now, but Jacob didn't want it. Marriage swiped away the passion and fun, he told me. It was a killjoy. He didn't want to ruin what we had by putting a ring on my finger...

But as I stood in our kitchen alone, I realized that in so many ways, we were already married. No fun. No passion. No really great sex, as of the past couple of months.

I picked up the phone and called Alice, knowing she wouldn't care if I woke her up.

"Alice Hale speaking. Whoever this is better have a damn good reason for interrupting Sunday morning foreplay."

I giggled. Alice was outspoken about everything. She just didn't care what people thought. She didn't give a second thought to sharing the most intimate of details with a complete stranger. I admired her for that.

"It's me," I murmured to my best friend. "And I do have a good excuse. I'm married."

A beat of silence followed. And then she was outraged. "What are you saying, Isabella? I seem to recall a certain night when we were twelve years old when we swore to be each other's maids of honor, and I did give you that sacred position in my wedding, and-"

"Alice, chill," I interrupted her. "I don't mean literally. Jacob still hasn't put a ring on it. I mean figuratively. We live a boring married couple's life."

"Oh," she said, sounding relieved. "I already knew that."

My heart froze for a second. "You did?"

"Uh, yeah, girl! Who didn't? Just a second, Isabella." Her voice moved away from her phone. "Jasper, babe, who acts more like a married couple? Me and you? Or Isabella and Jacob?"

"That's easy," I heard her husband say in his Southern drawl. "Izz and Jacob, for sure."

"See?" Alice said, her voice back to the phone. "I told you I'm not the only one."

I sighed. "Alice, what do I do? I'm so unhappy."

"Well, Isabella, do you love him?"

"Of course I do," I replied quickly. Too quickly. It was actually automatically. As soon as the words left my mouth, a deep darkness spread throughout my chest and made my bones hurt. Were those words true?

I was stuck. Trapped in a boring, dispassionate relationship.

It didn't help when Jacob got up, made me go out and buy him a gallon of milk, smacked through a huge bowl of Captain Crunch, and then told me I couldn't go to my friend Emmett's Super Bowl party.

"What makes you think you can tell me where I can and cannot go?" I demanded.

"It's Emmett McCarty, Isabella-pathological flirt. He looks at you like you're something to eat."

"Jacob, he's gay!" I shouted.

Jacob shook his head. "No. We'll watch the Super Bowl over at Quil's house. I don't trust Emmett. He has pet names for you and smacks you on the ass and says crude things to you."

"It's because he's been like an older brother since I was in the womb!" I replied. "My God, he and I learned about the birds and the bees together! Emmett only looks at me as a sister, Jake. Plus he doesn't like girls."

"You're blind."

So now he was boring, dispassionate, and jealous. Great.

I wanted out. I wanted a new relationship with a new man. Not a boy, not a guy, but a man. Jacob wasn't a man. Not at all.

"I'm going to the bakery," I muttered.

I loved my spacious, stylish house and my Mercedes Benz, but my true pride and joy was my bakery. Isabella's Edibles was solely my baby. I had gotten my degree in business, and I hated any corporate jobs I tried out. Finally Alice had encouraged me to do what I loved most: cook. I didn't want the responsibility and hassle of a restaurant and a staff, so I went with a bakery. It was a small building, and I only had two workers. Still, it was the most popular catering company in Orange County.

On this particular day, I stepped into the kitchen. My two employees, Angela and Seth, were busy making cakes and cookies for the Sunday church crowd.

"Hey, Isabella!" Angela exclaimed. "How are you? You don't look so good."

"I've had better days," I sighed.

"Is it your neighbor again?" Seth winked, referring to Lauren Mallory, who was obsessed with Jacob.

I snorted. "No. It's the object of her affections," I groaned.

"Oh," Angela said sympathetically. "Is it...over?"

"No," I said. "Why would you think that?"

"No reason. Just wondering," she said quickly.

"Aw, come on, Ang," I rolled my eyes. "What have you heard?"

She sighed. "I haven't heard anything. It's just that...when he came into the bakery the other day, you didn't even smile at him. You just grabbed him a bag of snickerdoodle cookies and he didn't even say thank you. I think that tells a whole lot."

"That's how we are at home," I admitted. "I've been thinking that marriage would make us happier, but Alice doesn't seem to agree."

"Marriage would just make it worse," Seth mused. "My parents had an awful marriage. Maybe I'm jaded, but Jake reminds me of my dad. I don't think marriage would be good for you."

"I want out," I confessed quietly. "Is that so bad?"

"Definitely not!" Angela exclaimed. "How long have you guys been together?"

"Since my freshman year of college...six years," I mused. "Six very long, unmarried years."

Angela gave me a sympathetic look. "I'm so sorry...but if you want to end the relationship, then by all means, end it. You won't be happy until you do."

"I agree," Seth said. "You deserve better."

I nodded. "Well, we have to get our butts in gear. We did all the cakes last night. How many cookie orders do we have?"

"Lots," Angela sighed. "We'll bake if you'll frost."

"That's the system," I agreed.

We managed to get the cookies done right before the church crowd showed up, and Seth even managed to deliver all the orders in record time. I was going to close down for the rest of the day and give Ang and Seth an opportunity to enjoy the game.

"What are you doing for the game?" Seth asked me as I scrubbed the counters down.

"I was planning on going to my friend Emmett's, but Jacob said I have to go to Quil Ateara's. He's jealous of Emmett, which is ridiculous. Emmett is gay."

"No way!" Angela exclaimed. "He is such a jerk!"

"Tell me about it," I murmured.

"You should go to Emmett's," Seth suggested. "Show Jacob that he can't just run all over you."

"That would just create an unnecessary fight," I dismissed the idea.

But as we locked the store up, I realized that I really should be able to go where I wanted. And Emmett, my best guy friend, could definitely shed some light on the situation at hand. He was great at giving me guy advice.

So I went home and took a shower to wash the food off of me. I changed into a black Prada cocktail dress and Christian Louboutin stilettos.

"You're not wearing that to Quil's, are you?" Jacob asked me. "Quil keeps it casual."

"I'm not wearing anything to Quil's," I replied. "I'm going to Emmett's."

He glared at me as I ran a curling iron through my hair. "We agreed that we were going to Quil's."

"No, you agreed that we were going to Quil's. I just agreed that I'm going to Emmett's."

"I don't want you going to Emmett's, especially looking like that," he replied, crossing his arms.

"Emmett McCarty's parties are always black tie," I replied. "It's what happens when you're part of the wealthiest family in Orange County, California. Jacob, get over it. I don't like going to Quil's because I don't like his brother Paul, and they seem to be attached at the hip."

"I'm telling you to go to Quil's."

"And I'm telling you no," I stated firmly, spraying on my Coco Mademoiselle perfume. I grabbed my clutch and left the house. Just as I was about to go down the porch steps, I decided to give our relationship one last test.

Jacob was standing by the door, arms crossed, glaring at me. "I'm sorry," I told him, "but I need some independence."

He looked up at the ceiling.

I stood on my tiptoes to offer him a kiss, but he didn't accept.

"Fine," I murmured, and went to my car.

Emmett's beach house was already full of people. I grabbed the tray of cookies I had brought from the bakery and went into the house, knowing I didn't have to knock.

"There's my bitch!" my large friend said, looking dashing in a black suit. "You look fantastic! Love the Tiffany's tennis necklace. Did Jake buy that for you? And you brought some Isabella cookies? Darling, you're going to make me pack on the pounds…"

"Only the best cookies, oatmeal chocolate chip," I tried to smile, but his brown eyes narrowed at me. "And no, I bought my own damn necklace. God, Em, don't you know me and Jake at all?"

"Something's wrong," he guessed. "What has Jakey done?"

I shrugged. "We'll talk later."

He glanced toward the flatscreen. It was still showing the pre-game commentaries. "Nah, we'll go to the kitchen. My fag hag has to tell me everything, especially if she's about to put that fine, freeloading hunk of meat back on the market."

I dropped the box of cookies on the big buffet table next to the desserts and followed him into his massive kitchen. "Spill your guts," he demanded, glancing around the counters. I knew he was looking for a drink, but he only saw champagne. Too weak for an important matter such as this. Rolling his eyes, he went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of vodka.

"I think I'm going to leave Jacob," I admitted quietly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

I nodded. "Yeah. We're just…tired of each other, I think."

He smiled and gave me a big hug. "I've been wondering for the past couple of months why you haven't broken up with him yet. Kick him out, Isabella. He's living in your house, sleeping in your bed and eating your food and getting your goods…I ain't saying he's a golddigger, but he ain't messing with no broke..."

I laughed. "Emmett, he's about to be the president of his dad's company. He isn't broke."

"You don't have to be poor to be a golddigger, Isabella," my sassy friend rolled his eyes, opening the vodka and taking a swig before offering me one.

"And he hasn't been getting my goods," I added, taking a sip.

He grinned. "That's my girl. Don't give it to a man who doesn't give you anything. Especially if you're still buying your own damn diamonds. Good-for-nothing son of a-"

"But what do I do?" I groaned, interrupting him. "I mean, I know I don't want to be with him anymore, so should I break up with him?"

"Have I taught you nothing in the rich history of our relationship?" Emmett drawled. "Really, Isabella. What are my two breakup policies? Recite them with me…"

I sighed. "Leave before you are left, and look like a knockout when you leave."

"Exactly. How long have you been pining for some Harry Winston bling to compliment your French manicure?"

"Six years," I sighed.

"If that scrub hasn't put a ring on it after six years, he'll never do it. So it's time to get your Beyonce on," Emmett winked, shaking his ass.

I laughed. "Emmett, you are crazy as hell, but you are wise," I smiled at him. "I think I will bust out the leotard and heels."

He laughed with me. "The single ladies' life is the way to go. Trust me. Now are you ready to go watch Tom Brady's cute ass run down that field?"

"Is that the only reason you're hosting a football party?"

"Well…yes…and Alejandro my pool boy is a Patriots fan. Might as well have something in common before I make him wear a uniform…"

"I thought you enjoyed the single ladies life?" I teased him, even though we had admired Alejandro together while laying out by the pool.

"Of course I do. Emmett McCarty never ties himself down to one piece of boy candy, especially if they have the goodies like Alejandro does."

Later that night, I was still in my cocktail dress, flipping through the channels on my Sony flatscreen. Jacob came in around midnight. He looked surprised to see me home.

"How was Quil's party?" I asked him.

"Fine," he shrugged. "How was Emmett's?"

"A lot of fun. But it made me think…"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," I said quietly. "Jake, can you sit down for a second?"

He cautiously sat next to me, careful not to touch me. I could smell beer on his breath. "What's wrong?"

"Where do you see us going?" I asked him.

He stared at me for a few seconds. "Well, I still don't like the thought of marriage…I kinda guess we'll just keep shacking up."

Exactly the answer I expected. I sighed. "Jacob, I can't do this for the rest of my life. I want to settle down. I want to get married. I want to have kids someday. I know it's not your thing but—"

He sighed. "Isabella, all of that is unnecessary. It just adds to the stress of the relationship and it costs money."

I ran a hand through my hair. "No, Jacob. It is necessary for me. And we already have a lot of stress in this relationship without it, don't we?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, but you know I'm not the diamond ring type, and a big white wedding…"

"That's what I want," I whispered. "Jacob, you don't know me at all, do you?"

He just stared at me morosely and shrugged. "Guess not. Isabella, a wedding and marriage and kids aren't in our future." He stood up and turned to go to the bedroom.

"I can't do this anymore!" I shouted, standing up. "I can't just pretend that this will go away! There's a wedge between us, Jacob, and it has got to go!"

"You're being melodramatic," he shouted back.

"Why are you so afraid of commitment?" I replied. "Tell me why!"

"Money just gets messy when you commit," he said harshly. "I mean, come on, Isabella. You're an heiress and you own an extremely successful company. I'm about to take over my dad's company. We would have to have a prenuptial agreement. It's just part of it. Do you really want a relationship with those kinds of strings attached?"

"What scares you more?" I yelled. "Losing your money or relying on me financially?"

He raised his eyebrows. "You think I rely on you financially?"

"Hell yes you do!" I exclaimed. "You're living in my house, using my electricity, drinking my water…"

"I pay for my food and you know it."

"But do you pay for the utilities? Do you pay the maid or the gardener? What about rent?"

He rolled his eyes and stepped out onto the back porch, facing the ocean.

I followed him. "Are you going to be a man and talk to me or not?"

"Come on, Isabella. Let's just go walk on the beach and forget about this."

I shook my head. "Nuh-uh. That is not going to happen. Damn it, I'm sick of this! You don't know me. You don't even care."

"Of course I care!"

I walked back into the house and went straight to my bedroom. Jacob followed me. "Isabella, what do you mean I don't care?"

"You won't even marry me!" I replied.

"Marriage puts chains on you."

"Oh, please, Jacob! You don't wear my chains!"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

I did the only thing I knew to do. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do. Maybe my mother had taught it to me. Maybe it was the only thing I had learned from my mother, but still, it was a lesson learned.

I grabbed my Louis Vuitton suitcase and threw it onto my bed.

"Oh, come on! Are you serious?"

"I'll get out of California," I muttered. "I'm tired of the weather…"

"Where the hell are you going to go?"

I debated his question in my head. What was the opposite of California?

Cold.

I grabbed the winter clothes I had bought for Aspen. I threw my jeans, sweaters, and boots into the suitcase before grabbing my big coat. I went to the bathroom and grabbed my necessary toiletries and bag of Chanel makeup.

"Where are you going to go?" he repeated.

I ignored him as I zipped up my suitcase. Where was I going to go?

I considered going to my lodge in Aspen, but the people there still acted like Orange County people. No, I needed a complete change. I pulled the suitcase behind me and went to the living room. On the television, ESPN was celebrating the victory of the New England Patriots at the Super Bowl.

Inspiration hit me.

"I think I'm going to Boston," I replied. "I think I'll start a new life. I think I'll start it over, where no one knows my name. I'll get out of California. I'm tired of the weather."

"You hate the cold!"

"I think I'll go to Boston," I stated again. "I think I'm tired…I think I need a new town to leave this all behind. I think I need a sunrise. I'm tired of sunset. I hear it's nice in the summer. Some snow would be nice. Yeah."

"You're talking like a crazy person!" he exclaimed. "You're just going to leave the house? Your bakery?"

"Angela and Seth can handle the bakery," I told him. "I want you moved out by Friday. I won't be in your way; you'll be able to do it faster without me. Leave your key with Angela at the bakery."

"So it's just over?"

I nodded, loaded up my car, and pulled out of my driveway

The first call I made was to Angela, explaining everything. She understood completely and encouraged my trip to Boston, promising she could take care of the bakery. I was so fortunate to have her.

The second call I made was booking a first class flight to Boston. I had two hours until my flight, so I had plenty of time to get to the airport.

"Am I crazy?" I murmured to myself as I drove to the airport.

No, I wasn't. I was just tired of my life. I needed a change of scenery.

Two hours later, I was sitting in my seat on the plane. There was an empty window seat next to me. I prayed no one had booked that one. I had plenty of room to stretch out, of course, but I really didn't want company. It was three AM and I didn't feel like talking to anyone.

I didn't get my wish. I stared at my lap as a man in expensive shoes paused at my row, and put his carry-on bag in the cabinet above us. I had already loaded my North Face coat and Gucci purse in there.

"Excuse me," a velvety voice said, and I moved my legs so the man could sit in the window seat. I peered up at him, and my jaw dropped.

He was gorgeous, about my age. He had a tangled mess of copper hair, gentle-yet-sparkling green eyes, and a beautiful mouth. He smiled at me. "How are you?"

"I'm alright," I sighed. "I'll go ahead and apologize if I accidentally use you as a pillow."

His smile broadened. "I would be honored if you used me as a pillow. It's a long flight."

"Thank you," I mumbled softly, staring at the seat in front of me.

"Business trip?" he asked me, nodding toward my expensive clothes.

I shook my head. "No, it's a little…vacation."

"Do you purposely travel in discomfort?"

I chuckled harshly. "It was a…split-second decision."

"Ah. Boston is an interesting choice. Why not Aspen or somewhere relaxing?"

"I need a complete change of scenery," I replied. "I have a lodge in Aspen, but it's too familiar. I've never been to Boston. And it's completely different from California…"

"Why do I feel like there is a man in this story?"

I looked up at him. "Maybe you're psychic."

He laughed softly. "I don't think I am. Maybe you're predictable?"

I actually smiled. "Maybe I am."

"Well, whoever the man is, he's a fool for giving you up. What's the story?"

We were interrupted by the welcoming announcement from the pilot. We went through the routine safety rules and everything. Finally, it quieted down.

Not really wanting to share my story, I changed the subject before he could ask again. "Why are you travelling so uncomfortably?"

"I've been on a business trip in LA," he replied. "I have to fly to Boston to pick something up and then I'm headed home to Seattle."

"Boston is really out of the way," I remarked.

He shrugged. "It's very important."

I nodded. "I bet, judging by your Gucci suit and Italian shoes. Are they Dolce & Gabbana?"

He smiled a crooked grin so beautiful I nearly lost my breath. "You have a good eye."

"So you're gay?" I teased him. "Because I have a friend for you to meet."

He laughed—it was such an adorable musical sound. "Not at all. My mother is a very good stylist. Does that sound pathetic?"

I smiled again. "Not really. My best friend usually picks my clothes out."

"So you're a lesbian?" he asked teasingly.

"Didn't I just mention that I'm having man problems?" I blurted out without thinking.

"Oh, indeed you were. My apologies. So, what kind of man problems?"

"A break-up," I muttered, turning my head to the front again. "You don't want to hear about it."

"Are you sure you don't want to spill?"

I felt the plane lurch forward as it began to make its steady trek across the tarmac. My stomach flipped. I wasn't afraid of flying, but the landing and take-offs always freaked me out.

"Uh oh," he said lowly. "You're turning pale. Are you okay?"

I closed my eyes and nodded. "I have…issues…with the take-offs…"

"Do you want to hold my hand?" he teased me.

I did, but I just stuck my tongue out at him like a third grader. "Shut up."
"Hey, I never pass up an opportunity to hold a beautiful woman's hand."

I couldn't fight the smile on my face. This beautiful guy—whoever he was—was quickly cheering me up. However, I knew as soon as I landed in Boston and found a hotel to stay at, the emptiness would creep back on me.

To my utter surprise, the guy placed his hand over mine. "You're okay, right?" he murmured quietly.

I nodded, luxuriating in the feel of his soft skin. I couldn't remember the last time Jacob had held my hand.

I groaned as my ears began to pop as we ascended. I really and truly despised flying. It was just inconvenient.

Finally, we leveled off, and the ache in my ears began to dull. I sighed and opened my eyes. He was peering at me curiously.

"Are you alive?" he smirked.

I smiled. "Yeah…sorry. I'll be better company from now on." I tried to inconspicuously move my hand, using it to scratch a nonexistent itch on my face. As I did it, I snuck a glance at his left hand. Ring-less.

Why do you care, Isabella?

"What were we talking about?" I muttered, blushing.

"Your newly-single status," he replied.

"Oh, right," I sighed. "Um…I'll leave it at this: it's the classic male shortcoming. He couldn't commit."

"Hmm," he murmured thoughtfully. "Well, I can certainly understand why that would turn you off. However, were you committing the classic female crime and urging him to commit after three months?"

I glared at him. "Try six years."

"Ouch," he said. "Well, obviously he's an imbecile for not marrying you, so you deserve better."

"How do you surmise that?" I asked him.

He started ticking the reasons off on his fingers. "One, you're beautiful. Two, you're wearing obviously expensive clothes and jewelry, so you must be successful. Three, success usually suggests intelligence, so I imagine you're extremely smart. Four, you're not afraid to call a complete stranger gay and then glare at him in that scary way, so you're obviously headstrong and independent. And five, usually with all of those positive traits combined, a person has a personality, which is always a good thing to look for. Overall, you're a very attractive woman. Why would the idiot give you up? Did you ever question his sexuality?"

I smiled. "Okay, wow. You're assuming a whole lot in that reading of me."

"I really don't think I am."

"I mean, you don't even know my name…"

He stuck his hand out to me. "Edward Cullen. Pleased to meet such a gorgeous woman on this otherwise-mundane flight. And you are…?"

"Is—" I started to say, but it felt funny. No. If I want a break from life—or an entirely new life—then I should have a new name. What sounds like Isabella?

"Bella," I said slowly. "Bella Swan."

"Nice to meet you, Bella. Is there a reason you're not telling me your real name?"

"Yes," I said. "But if I told you, I would have to kill you."

He smirked. "Add dangerous to that list of positive traits."

"Danger is positive?"

"I like danger," he informed me. "So is it marriage you want?"

"Marriage, and children," I confessed. "I already have the house, the car, the small business that is booming…I want the other fine things in life. A loving husband and two or three adorable children I can take care of."

He narrowed his eyes at me, as if he were studying me very hard.

"What?" I asked self-consciously.

"There has to be a flaw," he murmured. "For a guy to give you up so easily."

"Um," I said slowly. "He didn't really want to give me up."

"But he didn't want to make things permanent? Same thing."

"True," I muttered. "Okay, I can be a bitch. And I pretty much nagged him about the marriage thing—"

"So you sound like a woman," Edward shrugged. "Bella, I really don't think you see yourself clearly."

"I don't think you see me clearly," I replied.

We were interrupted by a blonde flight attendant. "Hi!" she greeted us brightly. "Peanuts or cookies?"

"Peanuts for me," Edward said, "and a Coke, please."

She winked at him as she handed him his order. "And for you, ma'am?"

"Cookies," I replied. "Just water."

She gave Edward one last meaningful look after giving me my snack. I snorted rather unkindly when she pushed her little cart further down the aisle.

"Not a fan of flight attendants?" he teased me, helping me pull my tray out.

"Flight attendants are fine," I said. "But how does it feel to be so gorgeous you make a total stranger…" I gestured to the blonde. "Fall for you with just a glance?"

"I don't know," he murmured. "You tell me."

His gaze was so intense I nearly shrunk back into my seat. I decided to change the subject. "By the way, the guy—"

"The imbecile?"

"You could say that," I rolled my eyes. "He also lived in my house without paying bills or rent. So yeah, I guess you could say that he refused to commit even to that."

"Okay, so not only is he an imbecile, but he's a jerk," Edward concluded. "You obviously deserve better."

"You sound so confident in that."

"And you don't sound confident in yourself at all. What happened to the headstrong independence?"

I shrugged and opened the pack of cookies. They tasted like honey and brown sugar and…what was it?

"White flour," I murmured. "Honey, brown sugar, and…cinnamon, maybe?"

Edward raised an eyebrow at me. "Pardon?"

"I'm a baker," I explained. "Trying to figure this recipe out."

"You can always look at the back of the packaging," he said dryly.

"That's cheating," I replied. "Here, give me a peanut."

He gave me a funny look before shaking one out into my hand.

I ate it quickly. "Honey-roasted, with just a hint of sea salt to make a contrasting flavor. Sea salt, possibly because it's healthier…"

"May I look at the packaging to assess your verdict?"

"Go for it," I challenged him.

He murmured to himself as he read it. "Okay, so you're right," he grinned at me. "Do you own your own bakery?"

"Yeah," I said. "It's fun. I've never considered making pralines or candied nuts, though. That's probably a good idea. Maybe make them before Mardi Gras…decorate the shop in purple and green and gold…"

"Clever marketing," he approved.

"What do you do for a living?" I asked, embarrassed that I was just basically talking to myself in front of him.

"International business," he sighed.

"You sound like you don't like it," I observed.

He shrugged. "It's…time-consuming. I love to travel, but I get tired of living out of a suitcase. Plus I never really get to sightsee or act like a tourist. I've been to Paris eight times but I've never even been to the Eiffel Tower. It's not exactly fun." He took off his jacket, revealing a white button-down shirt. "Pardon me," he said politely before standing up and putting his jacket in the storage above us.

He tried to unknot the tie, but his long fingers were clumsy. I took pity on him and reached for the knot, skillfully untying it. He gave me a dazzling smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I smiled.

He dropped the tie at his feet and stretched out his legs. "I wish they would show a movie."

"Am I boring you?"

"Not at all. I just think you're getting uncomfortable with my evaluations of you. A movie would probably lessen the awkwardness."

"A little," I admitted. "You're awfully perceptive, I'll give you that."

"I'm not as perceptive as I am experienced. I'm used to evaluating a woman and then giving her pep talks."

"Oh? A girlfriend, maybe?"

He shot me an amused glance. "No."

"A fiancée?"

He laughed once. "Not at all."

"A highly-paid escort who keeps you from being lonely on your trips away from home?"

He glared at me. "I'm so glad you have such a high opinion of me already."

I giggled, and then my mouth fell open in amazement.

"Why are you looking so shocked?" he asked me.

"I giggled," I gasped. "I haven't done that in months!"

Those emerald eyes looked at me sympathetically. "A girl as lovely as you should giggle all the time. Should have reasons to giggle."

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "Do you flirt with your escorts, too?"

He caught on to my playfulness. "No, I only flirt with very special girls."

"I don't believe you," I said seriously.

He shrugged. "Whatever you want to believe, ma'am."

I smiled and leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes. He was a complete stranger, but he had definitely lifted my mood for the night. I hadn't laughed with Jacob in so long.

I didn't realize I fell asleep until a sudden bump in the plane jarred me awake. I gasped, grateful I hadn't taken my seatbelt off.

"You okay?" Edward asked me. He was reading an article in the airline's magazine.

"Yeah," I said slowly. "Have we had a lot of turbulence?"

"No. I don't think we will, either."

"How long was I out?"

"Most of the flight, actually," he shrugged. "You missed breakfast. You can go back to sleep and even use me as a pillow."

I smiled at him. "I'll be right back."

The vodka I had shared with Emmett and the water I had on the plane were having an effect on me. I walked slowly to the bathroom, my feet aching in my heels. I should have changed into more comfortable clothes, I thought. Damn my whims.

I peered into the little mirror in the microscopic bathroom. God, I look like hell. My hair was rumpled, my Chanel mascarahad obviously lied about being smudge-resistant, and I had creases from Edward's shirt on my face. I quickly tried to do damage control, pulling out the ponytail holder I always kept in my shoe and pulling my hair back on top. I just went ahead and wiped all of my makeup off with a paper towel and water from the sink.

I still looked terrible. I chewed my bottom lip as I stared at myself. Who was I kidding? I had already lost my color after a few hours of being away from home. I didn't belong in a cold, unknown place. No, I needed to go back home to Alice and Emmett and the bakery. Tears streamed down my cheeks. Frustrated, I wiped them away.

I sighed as I walked back down the aisle. Edward watched me in fascination as I chunked the heels in our ever-filling cabinet.

"Need a foot massage?" he asked me.

"You are trying much too hard to join the mile high club," I muttered.

"Already joined."

"Really?"

He snorted. "No. The only person who ever travels with me is my coworker Marcus. No hookups there."

"Oh yeah, you're not gay," I mumbled as I sat down.

Ignoring my jibe, he took my hand again and looked me in the eyes. "Oh, dear, you look so lost," he murmured. "Your eyes are red when tears are shed."

"I don't know why I decided to take this little trip," I admitted. "I just need to go home."

"No, you don't," he said firmly. "You came here for a reason. You should discover it."

I sighed and shook my head. "I'm not much of an 'everything happens for a reason' person. I just think shit happens."

"Well, I tend to disagree with you," he replied. "I mean, you might as well enjoy the city after you land. Go…what is Boston known for? Uh…Boston tea party. That's it—go have a tea party."

I snorted and giggled softly. "You're really silly."

"No," Edward said. "You know what? We're going to have a tea party right now." He hit the button that alerted the flight attendants.

Of course the perky blonde came to us.

"Can we have a couple of cups of the breakfast tea?" Edward asked sweetly.

"Of course," she winked at him before disappearing. She quickly came back with two faux-china cups of steaming hot tea. "Can I get you anything else?" she asked meaningfully.

"Nah," he replied dismissively. She pouted her glossy lips before striding away.

"So crappy airplane tea is supposed to make me feel better?" I asked him.

"Always," he replied, handing me mine, careful not to slosh it over. "Okay, I'm going to propose a toast."

I simply raised an eyebrow.

He cleared his throat before reciting, "When flowers gaze at you, they're not the only ones who cry when they see you."

"What does that mean?" I asked him.

He tapped his cup to mine and took a drink without replying.

"Fine, be all coy," I rolled my eyes before taking a drink. It wasn't good, but it wasn't bad, either.

"Honestly, I feel sorry for you," Edward admitted. "I know, you're headstrong and independent, and you don't want any pity. But it's like you're trapped in this little corner and you've never seen a mirror and you don't know how great you really are. You're just striving to please everybody else and maintain the privileged Cali lifestyle and make everything appear to be okay…and you're missing out on life."

I gingerly put the cup on my tray, crossed my arms, and stared at him. "You know, you aren't afraid of putting your foot in your mouth at all."

"I know." He didn't break our mutual gaze.

"And that's kind of attractive…"

"I know."

"And kind of annoying at the same time."

He grinned crookedly. "I know."

This Edward Cullen really was as cute as they came. Freaking adorable…I wasn't sure I wanted to let him go to Seattle. I let out an amazed sigh and shook my head.

"What?" he asked me.

I swallowed hard. "I'm wishing you were true. I'm wishing a real-life guy in California could tell me this stuff and not treat me like shit like Jacob did."

"Jacob is the…"

"Imbecile," I finished for him. "Or even a real-life guy in Boston."

"I'm a real-life guy," he said quietly. "Unfortunately, I'm a real-life guy in Seattle. How do you feel about the Pacific Northwest?"

I crinkled my nose. "I don't like the rain."

"You get used to it."

I finished my tea and leaned back in my seat again. "I think I'm going to go to Wal-Mart, buy the fuzziest and most comfortable pajamas I can find, and stay in a hotel room all day drinking tea from room service," I decided. "And buy fuzzy socks. That will be my Boston tea party."

"Whatever works," Edward agreed dryly. "I think when I go home to Seattle, I'll…eh…"

I glanced toward him. "You'll what?"

He shook his head. "Never mind."

"No, tell me."

"No."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, you're annoying me again. What are you going to do?"

He gave me a small smile. "It's nothing. You don't want to hear about it."

"No, I really do."

He sighed. "I'll be right back. Stay here, and don't drink my tea." He eyed me warningly.

I smiled. "I'll be sure to spit in it. Payback for leaving me hanging like that."

He playfully mussed my hair. "Go for it."

He walked toward the restroom, and I sighed. Why couldn't Jacob be as playful, funny, and heartwarming as Edward?

My eyes fell on his magazine, still resting on his tray. A white sheet of paper stuck out of it—his flight itinerary. I knew I was being completely stalker-ish, but I saw that he was getting off of this flight at ten AM and was flying into Seattle on Flight 17 at ten PM.

That was quite a long layover for a domestic flight, I thought.

I tore my eyes away from the itinerary before he came back. I reclined my seat and stared at the ceiling of the plane. I giggled as he stepped over me and did the exact same thing.

"Anything interesting up there?" he asked me.

"Not really," I admitted. "You know, when I was a little girl, I liked to look at my parents' stucco ceilings and find pictures in the little bumps."

"Mmm. Did you do that a lot?"

"Yeah," I said quietly. "It distracted me from Charlie and Renee's constant fighting."

"Charlie and Renee?"

I sighed. "I never called them Mom and Dad. They never called me their daughter. I was simply their heiress. For the first six years of my life, I listened nightly to their fights. I'd hear Renee throw her Tiffany's lamps against the wall and Charlie would threaten to annul the marriage without alimony…finally, I remember Renee just…left. She didn't even say goodbye to me. She just packed her bags and left. I remember I found a lot of pictures that night."

He turned his head to look at me. "I'm sorry. That's…horrible. She's a bitch."

"Yep," I said simply.

His hand travelled to mine again, but this time, he laced our fingers together. "Now I believe you're an even stronger woman than I originally thought. You've dealt with some shit, but you've turned out to be an incredible woman. You don't need Jacob. He just adds to the baggage. Bella, you really need to just step away from the baggage and make a new life for yourself. Forget Jacob, forget Renee, forget Charlie."

"Well, Charlie's dead," I mumbled. "Heart attack at an early age. He was a good man, I suppose. He raised me well and offered me every opportunity. I'm in charge of his company, but I overturned all responsibilities to my cousin Mike. Mike does the work, I get the money."

"You have all the means in the world to make yourself happy," Edward said gently, squeezing my hand. "I have to say, this is the most incredible flight I've ever been on. Yeah, your life is a little fucked up, but so is mine. You don't even know. Yet you're this amazing, independent woman…you've made me…well, a little enamored with you. Maybe we can stay in touch?"

I shivered in pleasure as he kissed the top of my hand. Suddenly, I didn't care much about phone numbers and email addresses. I closed the space between us and touched my lips to his.

He had very soft and sweet lips. He kissed me gently at first, and then increased the force. Just as I was about to open my mouth, the speaker over the plane sounded. "We are about to land in Boston, Massachusetts. Please put your seats up, close your trays, and buckle your seatbelts."

I sighed as we followed the instructions. Edward let his fingers trail teasingly over my hand. I was all for kissing him again until I felt the plane tilt downward.

My freak-out started again. I closed my eyes and groaned, plugging my ears to help the popping. Edward simply let me borrow his shoulder again as he stroked my hair comfortingly.

Finally, we were on the ground. I sighed, not wanting the plane ride to end. Edward was about to go embark on his job, and I was about to go stay in a hotel room with the curtains pulled.

"Maybe we can have dinner tonight?" I suggested as we exited the tunnel and entered the terminal.

He sighed, and my heart sank. "I don't think that's possible…really, the handholding and the kissing…that was all irresponsible. I don't regret it, but…I have baggage of my own, and I have to face that baggage today, and…it's just impossible to have a relationship or even a fling right now…"

"No, you're right," I agreed with a sigh of my own. "It was a fun flight. Let's just leave it at that."

He gave me a smile as he handed me a business card. "Email me. I would like to know how things turn out for you."

I nodded, trying not to look morose. "I will. Um, thank you for everything. The pep talk really was great."

He smiled at me. "No, let me thank you. Like I said, it was an honor to be your pillow and your pep talker. Um, can I ask a question?"

"Sure," I said, my breath hitching in my throat. Was he changing his mind?

"If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?"

I pursed my lips as I thought. "A family," I admitted quietly. "Someone to take care of. Someone to take care of me."

He gave me a dazzling smile. "I'm not surprised. You're a kind person like that."

I smiled and extended my hand for one final handshake. But Edward ignored me and bent down to swiftly kiss my forehead.

"Goodbye, Bella Swan," he told me with a sad smile.

"Goodbye, Edward Cullen," I replied, trying to keep my eyes from tearing up. I had known the man for eight hours, for crying out loud!

He gave me one last crooked smile to remember him by, and then he turned around, his Dolce shoes walking away from me gracefully and with dignity.

True to my word, I spent my day in a very nice hotel suite, drinking Earl Grey tea. I ordered pay-per-view chick flicks, but they were just really turning my stomach.

Something inside me was empty. Jacob had maybe left a faultline, but it suddenly felt like a crater had taken the place of my chest. I knew I had the means to fill it up, but wouldn't I just be filling it up with more baggage?

Baggage. Baggage. Baggage. The word kept blaring at me, bothering me and making me almost itchy whenever it would pop into my brain. Damn it, I was sick of my baggage. Like Edward said, I needed to just step away from it.

But how?

To be honest, his words in the terminal kind of pissed me off. He had baggage of his own, and that was why he didn't want to see me again? Didn't he tell me that my baggage wasn't worth holding on to? Why couldn't he step away from his own baggage?

I knew that if I were still on that flight, I would be prodding him about it. He had certainly picked through my brain enough—if I wanted to be downright nosy, he couldn't say anything about it because he was even nosier. I tried to imagine what kind of baggage it could be that would make him ignore his own advice.

By eight o'clock that night, I was nearly drunk off the Earl Grey, if such a thing were possible. It filled me up and made me seem clumsy and sloshy, but only because I was so full. It made me uncomfortable and unsatisfied.

I knew that maybe if Edward Cullen didn't have problems of his own, he might have followed me to the hotel to talk some more. We could have had a real tea party on the carpeted floor and just talked.

By nine, I was imagining what Edward could have possibly been doing. He was going to board Flight 17 for Seattle at ten pm, so he was probably arriving at the hotel. Or maybe he was a very punctual person and was already sitting in the terminal, waiting. I realized that I didn't know anything about his habits except that he was chatty and could open up to any perfect stranger.

I missed him. I was obsessing over him.

Oddly enough, his impulsive behavior was making me feel impulsive. I was tempted to call and see if there was a seat left on Flight 17. I had never been to Seattle before…

Isabella Swan did not approve of this silly behavior.

But Bella Swan loved it. Bella wanted to be spontaneous.

"Damn it all," I muttered before grabbing my iPhone and dialing the airline's number.

I don't know how, but luck, or Fate, or God, or something was on my side. There was one seat left in first class on Flight 17. I assumed he was travelling first class again. That just made sense.

"Run, Bella, run!" I nearly sang as I threw on some clothes—Seven jeans, a Ralph Lauren sweater, and Prada boots. I slapped some makeup on and pulled my hair up into an elegant twist before gathering my things and hailing a taxi. I was running very late, but maybe I could make it without missing my plane…

By the time I was in the airport, I was cutting people in line and rushing security. They were impatient with me, but finally I made it through, running into the terminal.

Where is he? Where is he? Where is he? Has he changed his mind?

My breath caught as I finally saw his bronze hair. He was walking toward me, looking at something on the floor to the left of him. He wore a long black coat, very stylist and warm-looking. I was confused as I saw him mumbling something. He talks to himself? Well, that's…weird. But what else do I expect from him?

"Edward," I gasped.

He looked at me, emerald eyes wide and cherry mouth open. "Bella?"

"I know this is crazy," I said, my words falling out in a rush. "But I decided to move out of my corner and look in a mirror and step away from the baggage…and I think I like what I see. Because I think that when I get away from all the accolades and expectations and demands of my life, I'm…like you. Impulsive, slightly annoying, maybe even reckless, but warm and…good. And I want to be like you. And I thought that since Edward Cullen is quite possibly the most spontaneous person I've ever met, then maybe I could give him a dose of his own medicine and decide to just do something on a whim. That isn't so bad, is it? Maybe we can go to Seattle and have dinner and see where that takes us. The point is that I've never met a man who could connect with me so well and make me feel so beautiful and wonderful—"

I was interrupted by a tiny voice that I knew couldn't have possibly come from Edward. "Daddy, who is this?" the little voice whispered.

My mouth fell open, and Edward took a step back. Hiding behind his long coat was an adorable little girl, about four or five, with long curls of bronze and stunning green eyes. She was beautiful. She clutched his hand tightly, her other little hand pulling a pink rolling backpack.

"Daddy?" I gasped.

Edward pursed his lips. "Yeah…I am…Daddy. Bella, this is my daughter Nessie. Nessie, this is my friend, Bella."

"It's nice to meet you," Nessie said politely, extending her hand to shake mine gingerly.

"It's wonderful to meet you, too," I said, still a little dumbfounded.

Edward stooped down to his daughter's level. "Hey, my love? Why don't you run over to the window and watch for our plane? I bet you can see a lot of planes landing and taking off."

"Okay!" she said happily. My heart melted as he gave her a quick kiss before she scampered off to the window.

"I'm sorry," I immediately said as he stood up. "I had no idea—oh my god, I'm embarrassed—"

"Bella," he smiled gently. "Don't be embarrassed. I didn't tell you. Um, I mentioned my baggage? That is my ex-wife Tanya. I was completely crazy about her until I caught her in bed with my business partner Caius. Now she lives here in Boston, while I reside in Seattle. We have a custody agreement that Nessie spends half of the year with her and half of the year with me. It's doesn't seem to be really fair to Ness, but she seems to like it. Today starts her half of the year with me."

"Oh, wow," I breathed. "Edward, your baggage is a lot more important than mine. Just…forget all of this happened. Enjoy your time with your daughter. She's gorgeous, and she looks like she loves you a lot."

"Well," he said slowly, eyes flickering to Nessie, obviously making sure she was still there at the window. "You've already bought a ticket to Seattle…would you like to be our guest? Nessie and I were planning on seeing Swan Lake on Friday, and we have an extra ticket. Would you be my…" He looked thoughtful. "Well, Ness is my first and foremost date, so you could be my…"

"Third wheel?" I smiled.

"No, because that implies that you're not wanted. I want you to be there. You'll just have to be my second date. Is that alright?"

I beamed at the adorable little girl, who was eyeing me suspiciously, as if I were somehow taking her daddy away from her. "I wouldn't dream of taking her place," I told him.

His returning smile literally knocked the breath out of me. "It's a date, then. Of course Friday is a few days away, so you'll just have to stay in my house and we'll see what we can do with you until then."

I giggled—giggled!—again. "Sounds interesting and spontaneous."

He chuckled softly. "Well, Nessie has a tea set that is to die for, so we may just have another tea party."

"Sounds perfect," I admitted. The happiness was literally radiating out of me. Suddenly the whole world looked like a brighter place.

"Is this a little crazy?" he asked me softly.

I shrugged. "Aren't we a little crazy?"

"Maybe so," he admitted before turning to Nessie. "Hey, angel?" he called.

Nessie ran back to us eagerly. "Yes, Daddy?"

He scooped her up and planted an exuberant kiss on her cheek. "Bella is going to hang out with us. Is that okay?"

She nodded quickly. "Yeah! Do you like tea parties?"

"I love tea parties," I told her.

Edward looked at her, and the adoration was clear in his eyes. "Bella is also a very good baker. I bet she could make us some cookies for the tea party."

"Of course I can," I agreed. "Nessie can even help me."

"It's a date!" she exclaimed, sounding just like her daddy.

Our flight was called then, and Edward put an arm around me, leading me toward the gate. Maybe I was crazy. Maybe I was being reckless and irresponsible.

But for the first time in months, I felt a little twinge of something stabbing at my heart. Maybe it was multiple somethings.

But I knew I felt passion for my new life.

Freedom from the baggage.

Happiness instead of hollowness.

And I felt closure for California.

Boston had been a very good idea, but Seattle sounded even better.

This may be the longest one-shot I've ever written. Congratulations if you've made it this far. Can you leave me a review?