I do not own Twilight or any of its sequels, prequels or whatever-quels.

Glad we have that out of the way.

Just a little lyric, and Edward will be right by your side.

You were there

I saw you and my heart stopped beating

You were there

And in that first enchanted meeting

Life changed its tune

The stars, the moon

Came near to me,

Dreams that I dreamed, like magic it seemed

To be clear to me, dear to me.

You were there,

Your eyes looked into mine and faltered,

Everywhere

The colour of the whole world altered.

Life changed its tune

My universe tumbled in two

The earth became heaven, for

You were there.

(Noel Coward, Tonight at 8.30)

Chapter 2: Hear Me-Hear Me

BELLA

„Oh my God, what is it with men these days?"

Seth is taking a huge bite of his second super-sized muffin. It's gross, he's already had scrambled eggs with bacon and hash browns. How can that man eat and eat and never gain one pound?

"I have no idea," I shrug, and continue peeling the label off of my bottle of water. We're sitting side by side at our favourite coffee shop off Bleeker Street, facing the sidewalk, watching people go about their business. It's past noon, and I have told Seth every detail about last night. I'm miserable.

"The thing is," I say, biting my thumbnail, "he didn't seem like a manwhore at all. He seemed to be a little shy even…you know? And so very… I don't know… Gentlemanly? And sweet."

"Yeah," Seth munches. "He just asked you for a date, wanted to kiss you and forgot to mention he's married, oops."

He finishes the giant muffin and throws the napkin on his plate.

"Man, was that yummy."

"How can you stuff your face all the time like this?"

"Jealous, huh?" He grins; a large, white-toothed honest grin, and his eyes twinkle through black-rimmed Prada glasses. "I'm a big boy," he shrugs, then turns serious again. "So what did you do then?"

"What could I do? I left. After all, it was four a.m."

"And did Alice give any further explanation?"

"No. Or if she did, I wouldn't know. I left directly after them, I was so pissed."

"Strange." Seth slowly shakes his head. He's met Alice a couple of times by now, and they instantly hit it off when I invited her for cocktails at my place. Also, she was mighty impressed with Seth's works. It does come in handy, when you're an actor, to have a best friend who works as a photographer.

Seth has been my best friend for the best part of our lives.

Our families always were close, my dad and his being best friends for I don't know how long. Forever, to me. We grew up like siblings, even more so after my mother left. Seth's mom Sue became my substitute mother, and I spent literally all the time at their house, accepting his sister Leah as my role model and big sister for all intents and purpose. Seth and I always were close, and it grew even closer over the years. We were inseparable, dressing up and pretending, playing and living in our own, colourful, children's world. I ate dinner at their house all the time, and it only seemed natural that Charlie would be there, as well. We were family. Maybe we had this close connection because Seth and Leah had lost their dad early on, as Sue had her husband. Charlie and Harry had been quite close, and then Harry died from a heart attack at the age of 40, leaving his wife with two young kids. The hurt and pain of those years will always connect us and be with us, but it's also what made our friendship. A relationship that is stronger than the often-quoted blood-related ones. They're family. More so since Dad and Sue married four years ago after being close friends and then lovers for the longest time. These two had truly gotten their happily ever after, healing each other's wounds, their hearts mending after so much hurt in the past. It was more than I could ever wish for. They bought a cute little house only last year.

So, when Seth decided to move to New York to get along with his career, I was heartbroken. We'd phone and text all the time, and he came back for the holidays, but I still missed him terribly. After about two years, he started suggesting that I should follow him and come to New York, but at that time, my life in Seattle was great: I had a fantastic boyfriend who was successful with his own business, and a very promising career; I had Dad and Sue and my friends. Then, when things turned sour, aka my heart was ripped out of my chest and trampled upon, I decided that it was time to move on. I was sad at leaving Dad and Sue, but apart from that, it proved cathartic to leave all the bad memories behind and try a fresh start. I couldn't have made it without Seth, though. When I first arrived, I stayed at his place for weeks until I'd found an affordable apartment. He introduced me to his friends and acted as my guide and protector; always fiercely loyal and encouraging, helping me get auditions through his own contacts and unfaltering in his belief in me.

He even stopped talking to his cousin for a couple of moths after he broke up with me, and thus, broke my heart.

"Bells? Are you there? Hellooooo!" He snaps a finger in front of my eyes. "What's going on, babe?"

"Nothing." I smile and quickly kiss his cheek. "I love you to bits, Sethy."

"Awww. Now ain't that cute." He gives me a huge dimple-cheeked grin. "I love you, too." He puts a smacking kiss on my own cheek. " So are you ready to forget about your Greek God slash man whore?"

"Yep. No use moping. And the good thing is, I never need to see him again. Now tell me, what were you up to last night?"

He mentioned on the phone that he met someone "breathtakingly beautiful".

"Well", Seth gets quite excited. "I went to this club, Fat Black Pussycat, with Brady and Jared. Have you been there at all by now?" He raises one eyebrow, knowing full well that I haven't. "Really, Bells, you need to GO OUT more! Anyway, we had one hell of a time, and it was HILARIOUS when Brady jumped on one of the boxes and took his shirt off to show his new tattoo to – well, pretty much everyone… And then, when I went to the bar to get another drink, there was this seething hot guy. You know, tall, and a little androgynous, and so fucking pretty. We started talking, and then we danced and we kissed on the middle of the dance floor and oh my God he's an amazing kisser! Brady and Jared left somewhere around four, but he and I stayed and I went home with him and we had sex, like, all night and you wouldn't believe the things he does with his –"

"Seth…" I look at him pleadingly.

"Cock."

Seth loves to share the gory details of his colourful love life with me, whether I want to hear them or not.

"Does he have a name?"

"His cock? I don't know. Wondercock? Superjunk?"

"The man attached to the cock. Jeez, Seth you're such a superficial little slut."

"I'm not little." He grins. "Collin."

"And are you going to see Collin again?"

We have this conversation every other week. While I am spending Saturday nights with my cat, Seth picks up one one-night stand after the other. Not that I mind, as long as he's being safe, but maybe we should both just steer a little bit more towards the middle of the road.

"Absolutely! He's really… sweet, you know."

"What does he do?"

"I'll find out, eventually." Seth smirks joyfully. "But I know what he is capable of doing…"

"Argh…" It's all I can do not to hit my forehead on the table.

"And I'm meeting him tonight."

"That's nice!"

"Listen have you anything planned?"

"Besides work tonight? No."

"I'm meeting Leah at Bloomingdale's to get a birthday present for Ma, do you want to come along? We could get her something from all three of us."

"Oh, yes! Actually, I was thinking about what I should give her only the other day. I even called Dad, but you know how clueless he is with these things."

Seth chuckles, and tucks into his banana bread.

=====oOo=====

We meet Leah and Sam, her fiancé, half an hour later. It's a sweet reunion. Strolling through the departments of Bloomingdale's, we chat and catch up on each other's lives. Leah bears a strong resemblance to her brother (and mother), black hair and black eyes, reminders of their Native American ancestry. Which, of course, Jake has, as well.

After an hour or so we agree that the safest present is to make Sue have a nice time by giving her and Charlie two nights at a fancy New York hotel, complete with dinner and a Broadway show. They'll be able to see their kids and will be pampered a little.

We discuss this over coffee when Seth's cell rings and he answers it, a huge beaming smile on his face. He steps in front of the coffee shop and I watch him, all cooing and flirting and lovey-dovey. I'm happy for him.

Leah clears her throat. "Um, Bella, we should be asking Quil and Claire as well to take part, and I'm sure they'll go with it."

"Yeah," I agree. "That's great. We might include a spa trip or something…"

"But…" Leah scratches her neck in discomfort. "You know, that would mean we'd have to ask Jake as well…" She frowns a little, squinting her black eyes, which look so much like her brother's.

As always, my stomach cringes a little at the mention of his name, but I quickly compose myself.

"Sure. No prob."

"'Kay." Leah is visibly relieved.

We chat a bit more about the present and what hotel to choose and which show to pick, and then Sam asks me about the play I'm rehearsing. Even though I have the suspicion that he thinks that Chekhov is the name of an exotic disease. He and Leah fell in love a week after she moved to New York, meeting on a wildlife project protecting wolves or something.

When Seth returns he practically glows, but on checking my phone for the time, I realize it's time to get home and change for work. I kiss everyone goodbye and run to the subway.

EDWARD

I light a cigarette, nervously tapping my foot. It's the second one today. More than I had over the last fortnight. I don't really smoke, except when I'm nervous or agitated. At the moment, I am both, and I can't wait for my sister to appear after I called and begged her for an emergency meeting. Now, I'm waiting at our traditional bench near the Bethesda fountain. The sun is shining, and the temperature has risen a little, as well. Everybody seems to be outside to enjoy the warmer temperature, Central Park slowly awakening from it's winter sleep.

Taking another drag of my cigarette, I rest my elbows on my knees, going through last night's events for the umpteenth time.

I saw her after I'd been at Alice's for maybe fifteen minutes. She was standing by the bookshelf all by herself, her long, dark hair curling around her shoulders, and she was smiling at something she was reading. She turned round at some point, and I think my heart stopped for a second. She was extraordinarily beautiful.

When I was a small kid, my favourite fictional character used to be Snow White. (Yeah, growing up amongst women does shit to a boy.) I' d pester Mum no end to let me see the movie over and over and over again, for I was enthralled by this beautiful girl and her white skin and dark hair and rosy lips. And I adored her huge dark eyes. I imagined myself as her prince and I had a lunchbox in kindergarten with her picture. Well, that is, until the other boys started to make fun of me. Serious fun. So I exchanged it for the safer image of Donald Duck. I kept my lunchbox in my room, though, and used it to hold my crayons. I still got to see my dreamgirl every day.

I don't mean to say that Isabella looks like a Disney character, but, to me, she is the essence of my very first, childhood, love, the milky white of her soft, flawless skin contrasting the dark halo of hair, soft, full lips set in a cute little pout. She is slim but not skinny, luscious curves showing beneath her dress. There was a glow about her, a sparkle, that made me want to run to her and bury my face between those delectable breasts. So when Alice joined Jasper and me last night, I asked her to introduce us, and she agreed with a knowing smirk, murmuring something that sounded like, "I thought so."

"Edward, ugh. Put out that disgusting cancer stick. It stinks."

And here comes Alice.

She stands on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek and takes the coffee I brought. She's dressed in a flaming red coat and a matching hat.

"Hey, Ali. Thanks for coming."

"Of course, brother dear. What is it? About last night? What happened?"

I shrug, suppressing my need to light another cigarette.

"I took her home, tried to calm her and ended up giving her some herbal sleeping shit."

Alice nods sadly.

"Fuck, Ali, I completely fucked up with Isabella, didn't I?"

"I was going to ask you, anyway. What was going on there between the two of you?"

"I like her, Ali. I really like her. What did she say after we left?"

"Nothing much. Everyone was quite flustered as to what was going on, so I just said that it was Tanya, and that she is having some problems."

"And Isabella?"

"She left almost directly after you did. Said she was really tired."

"Did she seem… distressed?"

"Yeah, she did, though I wouldn't…" Alice's eyes widen with shock. "Oh no, Edward I think I did something really bad…"

"What, Ali?" I say urgently.

"When everyone was staring at me and Jazz, waiting for some sort of explanation, I said she was Tanya – your wife…"

"Oh fuck…" I let my forehead drop to my hands.

"I'm so sorry, Edward…" Alice is stroking my back. "I didn't think. I was a little shocked, and a little drunk, too, I guess."

"So now Isabella probably thinks I'm the biggest asshole on earth, flirting with her, and asking her out for dinner, and… Oh, God." I groan into my hands.

"What?"

"I even told her that I wanted to kiss her, Ali. And then Tanya… happens, and I leave, not even telling Isabella goodbye, and she gets to know from you that Tanya is my wife. Great."

I get up, too restless to keep sitting. Alice is by my side a second later, slipping her arm through mine as we walk towards the Guggenheim.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I mutter while Alice sweetly rubs my arm.

"What am I to do?"

"Obviously, tell her the truth."

"Do you think she'll even want to hear me? She'll think I'm just a stupid douche now."

"Mhm…" Alice runs a hand through her hair, a mannerism we have in common. Mom always says that, if it weren't for the fact that we are a year apart, we might be twins. Well, physically at least, although my little pixie of a sister is a foot shorter than I am.

"If even you don't think she'll hear me…" I mutter despondently.

"Let me think," she snaps.

"Okay, okay."

We continue our walk in silence until we're almost at the museum, where I'm meeting our mother.

"So here's what," Alice finally announces.

I watch her intently, her red lips moving slowly as she speaks thoughtfully.

"Considering the devastated look on her face when she left last night, she might, indeed, not want to see you."

"What-"

"Let me finish!" Alice almost stomps her foot. "Which is why we need to make her see you. I know that she works at this bar most Saturday nights. You are going to go there and ask her nicely to give you a couple of minutes to explain everything."

"I cannot just show up at her workplace," I protest. "That'd be fucking embarrassing for her."

"Of course not, doofus. You go when her shift ends."

"Well, how do I get to know that? I can't call and ask her very well, can I? Do you even know where this place is?"

"Leave it to me, Edward." My sister smiles brightly. "Give Mom my love and have fun."

She kisses my cheek and skips away.

BELLA

The bar is crowded tonight, but it's fun. Actually, I'm all kinds of thankful I found this job. It's not far from my apartment, the pay is decent, and the tips are fantastic. The team is nice, as are ninety-five percent of the patrons, most of them around their thirties and wanting to grab a drink before or after movies or a show. It's also practical because I can work out my shifts with Mike, the owner, from week to week, so I can co-ordinate this job with rehearsals or any acting work that comes along.

Tyler, the bar tender, is currently showing off his skills, juggling with cocktail shakers and flirting shamelessly with two girls across from him at the bar. He's a ladies' man if ever there was one.

Well, not just him, apparently. I go to the kitchen to get my order, thinking of Edward again. How could somebody so beautiful, so charming, intelligent and funny be such a bloody asshole? And what might have happened had his wife not appeared? Would he have wined, dined, sixty-nined me and left in the wee morning hours? Or would he have tried starting an affair? I will never be The Other Woman. Not after what happened. Never, ever.

"Bella, if you keep standing there staring like a cow the wings will be cold by the time you get them to the table, so get your ass going!"

I hate Valentino. He's the chef, and he hates me, too. I cannot do anything right in his eyes, and he doesn't miss a single opportunity to shout or yell at me. I've hidden numerous times by the trashcans in the back lot and cried. He's cruel and sadistic, and most days I just want to throw his shitty food in his face and tell him to suck it. He acts like it's haute cuisine he's producing, when in reality, he only heats things. Deep-frying them, mostly. I wonder when the day arrives that he starts deep-frying the salad, as well.

I get the order out to the table and make another round in my section, retrieving empty glasses and taking up orders, bringing people their checks and smiling at new patrons, while my mind is aeons away.

When I returned home from our shopping trip where no shopping was done, I changed my clothes and had a sandwich. While I ate, sitting in my small kitchen, I made the capital mistake of flipping open my laptop. Having checked my mails, I took a look on my facebook page, which convinced me once again, that everyone but me had an actual life. Thus depressed, I had the fantastic idea to google Edward Cullen. There were quite a lot of entries concerned with his position at Lenox Hill, and also some mention of a charity organisation, which seems to have been founded by his mother. Then I had another fuck-tastic idea: I clicked on Pictures. Yeah, I'm a glutton for punishment.

The window opened and there were some official-looking portraits, and newspaper things of him attending social functions. With his wife. That's what the captions said.

Edward Cullen with his beautiful wife, model Tanya Denali-Cullen. Bla bla bla…

Beautiful did not quite begin to cover it. She was awesome. Tall, blonde, skinny, with a face so extraordinary that I gasped. Edward was married to some sort of Gwyneth Paltrow lookalike, only that she was, like, what? Twenty?

Hrmpf. They sure had found their equals in the looks department. Why he'd even bother to talk to me was beyond me.

"Bella, sweetie, those margaritas won't get any better if you keep staring at 'em," Tyler informs me.

Business has slowed down a little and he's polishing glasses, raising one pierced eyebrow at me.

"You okay? You seem a little upset."

"Nah, it's okay…" I take the tray with my drinks.

"You want a shot?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Actually I think I do."

"Kay. Ask Jess if she wants one, too."

Jessica giggles as we toss back pour vodka. She's a nice one, in a simple, all American girl sort of way.

I return to my tables, cleaning those that are vacant, chatting with two guys who come here every week.

That's when I hear his voice. Great. Mike is back.

I do like him, that's not it. He owns this place and offered me the job and a very fair pay, but over the past six months, he hasn't stopped asking me to go out with him. He's nice, but he won't get it that I'm not remotely interested. He's round-cheeked and over-enthusiastic, with pale blue puppy-dog eyes.

"Hi Bella!" He beams at me.

"Hey, Mike. How's tricks?"

I'm glad my shift ends in an hour. We make a little small talk before he thankfully goes to his office at the back of the bar. Which leaves Tyler, Jess and me to another round of shots. Not that Mike's opposed to it, but well – no need to rub it in, you know?

The rest of the night passes quickly, and when I'm finished, I go to the changing room to get into more comfortable shoes, grabbing my purse and jacket. Once I'm out, Mike is back.

"Bella! Care for a night cap?"

"Uh, actually no, Mike, but thanks, anyway," I put my purse on a bar stool and look around. Jess will be okay closing up with Tyler, and I started work three hours prior to her. I struggle slightly with my coat and Mike fumbles to "help" me.

"Thanks."

"Bella, what d'you say? Grab a drink tomorrow night?"

He's too close. I hate my personal space being invaded. No, what I hate is when guys I don't particularly like put their arms around my waist.

"Mike…" I try to be friendly.

"What?"

"You know… It's not gonna happen…"

"Think about it, honey," he whispers in my ear. "You don't know what you're missin'."

"Maybe, Mike, but you don't know when to take NO for a NO!"

"Aw, Bella." He sloppily kisses my cheek, and I'm a second away from exploding.

EDWARD

The cab stops a block away from the bar. I thank the driver and hand him the fare. Walking in the direction of Mike's Honkey Tonk, I light a cigarette. Alice texted me an hour after we parted in front of the Guggenheim.

"Her shift ends at eleven. The place is called Mike's Honkey Tonk. Yeah, original, right? It's on 64th, 3rd Ave. Her fav place in the neighbourhood is this little bar called Chipmunk, take her there. BTW: she likes pink Gerber daisies.

Love you."

So here I am with a single pink Gerber daisy, heart pounding in my chest. Even my Mum noticed I was fidgety as we strolled through the museum, but I put it down to being stressed over work.

"Really, Edward", she stroked a strand of hair out of my forehead. "I think you need to go slower. This whole wretched business has taken its toll on you, and with that crazy work schedule…"

Her green eyes were filled with love and worry, as always lately when it came to me.

"I'm fine, Mum." I took her hand and kissed it. It smelled of her rose hand cream, which always made me feel loved and secure.

"Are you? You need to do something for yourself one of these days. Do you even play that piano of yours anymore?"

"Not really," I admitted. "I promise I will. You're even invited for a recital, okay?"

At that, she smiled happily, and let it go.

I check my watch. 10:58. Should I just wait here? I quickly pop a mint in my mouth so as not to gross her out by smelling like an ashtray. I really need to stop if I don't want to make it a habit. I'm a doctor, sue me. Slowly, I make my way to the front of the bar and peep in. Luckily, it's not a seedy hole-in-the-wall like I feared. It looks nice even, a rather small place but tastefully designed and cosy. There's a fair-haired guy standing by the bar and checking his phone, and another one behind it pouring liquor into a shaker. There are pretty pictures on the walls, framed movie posters featuring some classics. I smile to myself, remembering Isabella rambling on about her passion for old movies, especially British ones. She told me she had a "mild obsession" with Laurence Olivier, blushing cutely as she did so.

She's so different from Tanya, not only physically, but in every respect. Where Tanya is attention seeking, Isabella is rather shy and quiet. Where Tanya always craves ways of distracting herself, Bella has this depth, a love for her profession, for books, and art. Where Tanya is tall and bony, Isabella is small and soft and…

I gulp. There she is. She just came out from the back and now she's there, putting her purse on a bar stool. Her hair is in a ponytail, and she's wearing jeans and a fitted black shirt that accentuates her scrumptious curves. She's talking to the guy in front of the bar, who seems a little of a milksop to me. He's helping her into her coat in an obvious way. What a tool. She smiles at him and he puts an arm round her waist, whispering something in her ear, and then kisses her cheek.

Wait. What? Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

I never even considered that she might be in a relationship. She wouldn't have acted the way she did last night if she was, would she? Alice would have made sure of that with her super-pixie skills. Wouldn't she?

I start to panic, but then Isabella swats the milksop away, and her face is clearly angry as she speaks to him. He lets go of her, and then hangs his head like a mal-treated puppy. I think I can see him say "Sorry". Isabella nods sternly and waves goodbye to her co-workers, making her way to the front door, still looking annoyed.

Well, here goes. Time to man it up, Cullen.

BELLA

Do all men have to be such idiots or is it me that attracts them?

I'm trying to still my inner turmoil as I make my way outside. The one thing I did not need tonight was Mike and his antics. Really, how old is he? Muttering angrily to myself, I open the front door, bracing myself for the chill of the night air.

"Isabella?" Someone calls out from my left, and I flinch.

A rapist wouldn't know my full name, would he?

Slowly, I turn in the direction the voice came from.

I swallow. Hard.

It's him.

I will be trying to update on weekends. Please, please leave a review, even if it's just a smiley. I used to not understand why authors keep saying that, but I know now: because it means so, so much! Thank you for reading.