A/N: Thank you all for reading and for the wonderful reviews! I must admit, I had hoped to have one or two readers, but was blown away by the number of you who have put this story on alert or favorite. I apologize in advance for any typos – I did not seek out a Beta for this story, so I take all responsibility for any errors you may find.
On to the next chapter…I would love some reviews to let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or its characters.
Chapter 2
As soon as the study door closed, I immediately began to panic. What do I do? Where do I go? For the past four years, I had let this poor excuse for a marriage define me – it was honestly the only thing I'd ever done that had brought be any real level of joy and contentment. I am not a gold digger. I mean, sure I'd agreed to this arrangement particularly for the financial perks, but in reality the money was the not the reason I had stayed. Even though he had never given any quantifiable evidence that he felt for me more than a casual companion, loving him had been effortless and real. And it made me happy. I don't know how unrequited love could bring such happiness, but I'd venture to guess it was the hope that I took such pleasure in. For the first time in my life, I dared hope and dream of the possibilities of something more. Something better. Something good.
I quickly walked down the hallway to the master suite. I needed to leave this place. I needed to be away from the Cullen estate and from him. I needed to be on neutral ground if I was to think this through logically and decide the best course of action. And, honestly, I needed to make these critical decisions based purely on reason and reality – hope and possibility could no longer drive my actions. I had spent far too longs with my head in the clouds, pretending I was in some romantic comedy film nearing the climax where the hero claims his love and devotion to the girl next door. No, I needed to face the reality that Edward was not going to ride in on a white horse.
As I began gathering some clothes and toiletries in my suitcase, my thoughts drifted over the events of the past few years. Edward was capable of affection – he had shown this time and again in the bedroom. His caresses and sweet words during our physical connections proved to me that, whether or not they were the product of some genuine emotion or that of a male acting the part of smooth operator, he at least understood how romance and love should work.
It was the daytime Edward that had confused and broke my heart time and time again. He certainly never mistreated me – Edward was always a gentleman and was faithfully mindful to treat me with the utmost respect. However, his carefully crafted mask of emotional void seemed to follow him everywhere. In public, he would touch me and talk to me in such as way to keep up the façade of two people deeply in love, sharing a life together. In private, the most I would receive was inconsequential small talk and only the necessary physical contact, such as a hand to help me out of the car.
And I just accepted it.
How could such a man want to bring a child into the world? Even if I did agree, would he love our child? Would he be able to actually tell our child he loves them? Or would a baby truly only be an addition to this fucked up arrangement? No, I can't bring a child into the world like this. A child should not only receive love from its parents, but should also see their parents love one another. And at this point, that wouldn't happen. No, a baby was out of the question.
As I zipped my suitcase, I felt the disgust set in. I should have kicked my own ass years ago. How could I possibly look at myself in the mirror? How had I been able to sleep knowing what I had done? What kind of shameless whore allows a man to treat her this way? He may have never spoke to me in a disrespectful manner, but every action proved that he did not respect me. How could I have been so blind? How could I love a man that would use a woman in such a way?
But I had signed up for this. Willingly. Consensually.
How the hell did I get here? I was once a young woman who, although not blessed with extreme beauty or endless money and resources, had at least survived. I hadn't needed the love of a man to feel whole – I was Bella and I was proud of it. Now, here I was, packing a suitcase and running from a lifestyle that I had never wanted or needed, from a man who would never want or need from me what I so desperately wanted from him.
With one last glance around, I grabbed my suitcase. This was it – the moment, the action, the path I needed to start on.
Peeking out into the hallway, I was relieved to find it empty. Sure, part of me wanted Edward to find me and drop to his knees, begging me to please stay and give him forever.
However, the realistic part of me knew that Edward would never do such a thing. And seeing him NOT do this would break me – I would certainly give in and crumble to the sobs that I had been holding back. No, I would much rather leave undetected. And while it may be cowardly not to at least say goodbye or tell Edward where I was going, I couldn't find it in me to care. I wanted him to worry. I wanted him to have to try to find me if he wanted to talk to me or see me.
Quickly making my way to the garage, I loaded my suitcase into the trunk of my car and drove away. Looking in my rearview mirror, I allowed myself one last glimpse of the Cullen mansion. I wondered when I would be back and on what terms. Would I still be Edward's devoted wife the next time I set foot on that stone walkway? Or would I merely be a memory he was trying to forget?
By the time I'd checked into the Cascade Suite at the Fairmont Olympic hotel and unpacked my things, I am emotionally and physically exhausted. After a hot bath, I stumbled into the bed and fall into a restless sleep, haunted by dreams of Edward and beautiful, green-eyed children.
~~~~ATA~~~~
Three days.
I've been in my hotel suite for three fucking days. I've shopped. I've eaten an abundance of room service. I've read books. I've watched countless hours of Lifetime movies.
Not a single word from Edward.
Is he giving me time and space? Is he afraid to talk to me? Is he worried about me? Is he thinking about me at all?
Surely a man with his resources could easily find me. I paid for this suite using our joint account. There is no way he doesn't know I am here. I have my cell phone. No calls or voicemails.
This is what I'd feared. He doesn't care. If he did, certainly he would have at least called to make sure I was alright.
Right?
My throat and head ache from the uncontrollable sobs that take over nearly every hour.
I haven't slept well and the dark circles under my eyes and pasty look of my already pale face haunt me whenever my gaze lands on one of the many mirrors in my room. I stop looking it. I close my eyes whenever I enter the bathroom – I can't bear to look at myself right now.
Neither Alice or Rose have called. My two closest friends haven't even checked in. I don't call them either. They believed the lie, often times musing out loud how they were envious of the relationship Edward and I have. Lies. Everything is a lie.
~~~~ATA~~~~
Six days.
Still no word.
I am in a sea of regret. I am so lonely. I should have just stayed. I've always been lonely and isolated. But at least before I had those nights. His touches. His whispers.
A soft knock at the door breaks me out of my self-destructive thoughts.
Wiping my tears, I make my way over, cautiously opening the door.
Edward.
He stands in the hallway, looking as beautiful as ever. In a gray suit with a red tie, he looks as though he's ready to take on the world. I stare, unable to form any words. When my eyes land on his face, I realize this is not the type of reconciliation I've been hoping for.
He looks well-rested, perfectly groomed, and he has his emotionless daytime face on. He looks normal. His eyes meet mine and briefly flicker with something, gone as fast as it came.
Didn't he miss me? A sob escapes me.
How dare he! How can he not be suffering as I am? Has he no decency? He hasn't been the least bit worried? Sad? Angry? Anything?
Suddenly, the regret is replaced by the same flare of anger I felt when I left. No. I won't do this. I don't want to know what he has to say.
I realize how unfair it is to be angry with him for not returning the feelings I have for him, particularly when I have never declared my love.
But try as I might, I have no rational thought left. I do the only thing I can.
I slam the door in his face.