One Year Ago...

"Honey, your phone is ringing," I call into the bathroom. The steam from his shower billows out into our bedroom. "Honey!"

He loathes when I try to answer his phone. Says it's mostly business. That his boss would be upset. I don't know why, but I don't question it. I know he's under a lot of pressure at the office, taking on a lot of important cases. I guess I should be happy he's doing so well. The selfish part of me just wishes he was around more often.

"James?" The phone rings again. I'd hate for him to miss an important call. I bite my lip, convincing myself just to answer it. The Caller ID tells me "R" is calling. I scour my brain, trying to figure out who it could be. Possibly one of the partners. He doesn't tell me much about the people he works with.

By the time it rings a third time, I'm annoyed. Despite his best efforts, my husband has managed to choose the most obnoxious ringtone known to man. So, I do it. I answer the phone.

"Hello?"

Silence. Then, breathing. Then, a confused stutter. "I'm sorry, I must have the wrong number," a woman's voice says. She immediately hangs up.

The uncertainty and fear burns in the back of my throat like a hot fire poker. How can it be the wrong number if it's programmed into his phone? I set it down and back away, like it's poison.

"Bella?" James slinks into our bedroom, wrapping a towel around his waist. "Baby, I know you wanted to talk about the whole...baby thing tonight, but I've got to head into the office. Big case."

"Okay," I stammer, trying to sound normal. Normal? How is normal even possible right now? My hand grips my robe, pulling it away from my neck because I can feel it closing in on me. Suffocating. The entire world could come crashing down around our house and I wouldn't have a clue. All I can see is that damn phone. And the woman on the other end of the line.

I can't even comprehend having the baby discussion, the one we've had a million times and are supposed to have for the million and one time tonight. About how he's not ready. About how we'll know when the time is right. About how we still have our whole life ahead of us. The same conversation we've had for the past five years.

"You alright?" He asks, kissing the top of my head.

"Yeah." I take a deep breath. "Just tired."

"Well get some sleep. Don't wait up, it might be another all nighter."

His words make me want to throw up.

The phone rings again and he immediately snatches it off the bed and answers. He glances at me, rolling his eyes playfully like he's getting an earful from his boss.

"Yeah, I'll be right there. See you in a few." He disappears into the bathroom and emerges minutes later dressed and ready to go. "I'll see you tomorrow night for dinner? How about spaghetti? I know it's your favorite." He kisses me, but I don't kiss him back. I stand, still as a statue, as he smiles and starts towards the stairs.

"Honey?" I call, clearing my throat. "You forgot your briefcase." I grab the leather case, the one I got him for his birthday last year, and hand it to him.

"Oh!" He shakes his head. "Thanks. Swear I don't know what I'd do without you."

I manage a sad smile. He doesn't see that it's not real.

As soon as he's gone and his headlights splash across the bedroom wall, I sink to the floor.

Images fly through my brain, like flipping Polaroids one after the other. The nights he comes home smelling like strange perfume. All of the unfamiliar shirts I wash of his. The beautiful watch he came home with after a business trip last Christmas. They add up, stack up, towering over me like a dark shadow. This is it. The final blow.

There's someone else.

I turn off all the lights and crawl into bed. Sleep doesn't come. The anxiety does. The sinking, all-consuming feeling of being entirely alone that has nothing to do with his so called work tonight. I don't feel that connection from him, like I'm reaching out, grasping for even just a thread of emotion, real emotion from him. My finger tips always end up empty.

It wasn't always this way. When we first met in college, it was like I realized all of the parts of me that were missing. I found them in him. Now, those parts are rotted and mangled, destroyed beyond recognition. Maybe he doesn't complete me at all. Maybe he's more like a parasite, feeding off my body and my heart and now there's nothing left.

When I wake the next morning, he's in the shower again. His clothes lay in a heap on the floor, wrinkled and crumpled. I pick them up and head downstairs to the washer. I add them to the pile and separate the lights and darks. As I throw them into the machine, I count three shirts that I didn't buy for him. I grit my teeth and grab his pants. There's a small box in one of the pockets, so I pull it out. Looks like a small jewelry box. My heart leaps. He got me jewelry.

A small smile plays on my lips as I open the box. It shoots open, displaying a beautiful emerald ring settled in the pillow.

He's going to hate that I ruined the surprise!

I slam the box shut, shove it back into his pocket, and race back upstairs. Luckily, he's finishing up in the shower when I set his pants back on the floor just like I'd found them.

My smile lingers as I watch him in the shower, a naked silhouette behind the foggy glass. I overreacted. My imagination ran wild again. And I was all wrong. I was wrong about him.

My pajamas fall to the floor and I open the shower door. He turns, water dripping from his hair down his face and his bare chest.

"Can I join you?" I ask, cocking my eyebrow. We need this. We haven't had sex in a month. I blame his hectic work schedule.

"Baby, I'd love to, but I'm exhausted." He kisses me and slips past, grabbing a towel for himself. "You gonna shower?"

I look down at the floor, embarrassed. Why am I embarrassed? This is my husband, but standing naked in front of him, rejected, I feel more exposed and vulnerable than ever.

"Sure," I mumble.

"Make it a quick one. I probably used all the hot water." He smiles and leaves, towel wrapped around his waist.

I stand in there until the water turns cold a few minutes later. When I get out, his pants are gone and he's passed out in bed.

After I get dressed, I call my sister and ask to meet her for coffee. I need to get out of this house.

I walk the few blocks to Beans, my favorite coffee shop in the entire city. Alice meets me there a few minutes later and we sit by the window, watching the rain slide down the glass as the puddles from outside.

"Bella?" Alice pokes me.

"Yeah?" I turn from the window and take a sip of my coffee.

"Are you even listening to me?" She asks.

"I'm sorry, I'm just really tired."

She sits back and crosses her arms over her chest, a sign that she's about to tell me something that I probably don't want to hear.

"For the past few years? Bella, you've been completely out of it lately. What's going on?"

I could hide it from James. The depression, the sadness. I can't hide it from her.

"Nothing." I shake my head.

"Is it Mr. Wonderful?" She used to say that like she really meant it, now it's with more venom than a snake's bite.

"He's been working a lot," I say.

"Please," she says. "That's his choice. Just like he chose to marry you. I only see him fulfilling one of those commitments and it's not being a good husband to you."

"He bought me a really beautiful ring." I blush, just thinking about it. I wonder if he'll give it to me tonight.

"Really? Let me see it." Alice loves jewelry.

"Well, he hasn't technically given it to me yet. I found it in his pocket."

"Bella," she scolds.

"It was an accident."

She laughs, sipping her coffee as she looks around the shop. Her eyes stop at the cash register, narrowing in on someone in particular. "Do I know him?"

"Who?" I turn around in my seat and see a man in a police uniform standing in line. His face is obscured a little by his hat, but I see him. And I know him too.

"I swear he looks familiar," Alice says.

"That's Edward Cullen. Remember the transfer student in high school? He came in during the middle of my junior year."

"Didn't he used to sneak behind the school to smoke cigarettes?"

"Yeah." I nod, but decide not to tell her that I bummed one off him once. It was the only interaction I'd ever had with him. He didn't really talk to anyone. Kept to himself mostly. Although I suppose at a small high school where everyone knows everyone, not many people were too keen on talking to an outsider either. He didn't even come to graduation.

The thing I remember most about him was his car. An old classic when all of the other kids were zooming around in brand new cars their parents bought for them. He was just this beautifully broken boy leaning up against a red Camaro.

"Wonder what he's doing in Seattle? He didn't stick around Forks, did he?" Alice asks. I love my sister, but she's quite the gossip hound.

"I don't know. I was too busy doing the college, love, and marriage thing to keep up on random people who I didn't really talk to in high school," I tease.

"Whatever. Let's shop." She scoots out of her seat and heads toward the door. I collect my things and follow. Edward is just ahead of us at the exit. When he spots us coming up behind him, he holds the door open. As I pass by, I look up and mutter a thank you, nothing more. For a moment, I think he recognizes me, but it passes when he nods and walks away without another word.

"He's gotten handsome," Alice says, glancing behind her to watch him walk away.

"You're married," I say. "And I don't know, I always thought he was handsome." I follow her gaze. As he crosses the street to his car, he looks back at us, catching us right in the middle of our gawking session. Flustered, I quickly turn forward and finish off my coffee.

While we're at the store, I buy some new lingerie, hoping I can try again tonight with James.

As soon as I walk into the house, I smell oregano. He's cooking.

I peek into the kitchen. He's got some old time music playing on the radio and an apron wrapped around him. The pot on the stove is steaming and the air is so delicious I want to eat it.

"Smells good," I say, setting my bag on the table.

"Oh! Hey, baby." He spins around and kisses me. "Where've you been?"

"Went shopping with Alice."

"What's the damage?" He asks, wondering how much I spent.

I pull out the lingerie. "I don't know if I'd consider this damage."

"Very...very damaging." He smirks, and for a moment he almost looks like the man I met in college. Almost.

"When's dinner ready?"

"Probably about fifteen." He goes back to the stove and stirs the pot.

Dinner is divine. We flirt with each other. Eat exquisite food. The butterflies are back again like they never left in the first place. And even though I shouldn't have seen it in the first place, I keep wondering when he's going to give me the ring.

We make our way up to the bedroom and I push him down on the bed. "Be right back." I scoot to the bathroom with my new purchase in tow. I take my time undressing and dressing, brushing my hair and cleaning up my makeup.

When I exit the bathroom, the room is dark.

"James?" I call, reaching for the light switch. The lights come on and I find him under the covers, on his side...asleep.

My breath quickens. Those butterflies in my stomach fall, dead.

"Turn off the damn light," he mumbles. I flip the switch, crawl into bed, and silently cry myself to sleep while he snores next to me, unaware that he's breaking my heart into a million pieces.


A/N: Thank you for reading!

What an awful cycle to go through in a relationship. :(

I do want to mention that this story was inspired by "Two Black Cadillacs" by Carrie Underwood.

Again, thank you so much for your support. Special thank you to ImHereToReview, who has been my other half for prereading, brainstorming, and a million other things that mean a lot to me! :D