Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight; I own an active and naughty imagination. Rated M for lemony goodness.

A/N: Thanks for the positive reviews of Chapter 1! I really appreciate your taking the time to read my story. I hope you enjoy the next instalment...

Disclaimer: The characters of Twilight are owned by Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. The original content, ideas, and intellectual property of this story are owned by PeppahLouie. Plagiarism is theft - so please no copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.

©2011 PeppahLouie . All rights reserved worldwide.


CHAPTER 2 - DO YOU REMEMBER ME?

Bella

I have to do something. I can't stay hidden away here in my loft forever. I know Alice is at the restaurant – I've just seen her arrive with her bronze-haired god of a brother. I make a decision and head to my washroom.

Frumpy, frumpy, frumpy. That's what you are. Plain, boring Bella.

As I frown in the mirror I try to do something with my unruly hair. It is so long the only thing I can really do is tie it back in a ponytail. I place the band at the base of my neck so my hair just hangs down my back. Tying it up near the crown of my head would make it bouncy and playful. But that's not me, not anymore anyways.

My femininity has gone into hiding. After I gave up on ever enticing my husband into a sexual relationship with me, my inner goddess slowly retreated and took my wardrobe with her. I eventually stopped wearing short skirts, tight tops, sandals... opting instead to wear comfy boy jeans, baggy flannels and sneakers or boots. When my mother had commented on my clothing during my wine-induced confessional after the funerals, I didn't bother to correct her. She hadn't seen me during the whole of my marriage. She had no idea that I had, after our failed wedding night, embraced my "girliness" and started dressing the part. For a few months there, I really had looked good. I wore makeup, styled my hair, invested in a few of those push-up bras that shape your boobs and create sexy cleavage. I turned a few heads, but not the one that mattered; not the one who knew me, the real me. I couldn't attract my husband physically when he already knew my mind and my soul so well... that fact devastated my self-esteem.

I step back a few paces and look over my appearance. Brown turtle-neck sweater – baggy so you can't see my figure – and a long black peasant skirt; orange Converse – damn, I love my sneakers. Glasses, no make-up. I add a long, thin orange scarf around my neck so I don't look completely pathetic. I grab my orange backpack and head for the door. Swallowing my fear, I step out and lock the deadbolt behind me. I am going to go downstairs and say hi to Alice.

It's a very chic looking affair from the street. There is a simple green neon sign above the doors – just the one word: Wild. The doors are solid and clad in brass sheeting with large semicircular wooden handles that are set vertically so they form a split oval. There is no other signage to indicate the nature of the business, but the large windows on either side of the door let passersby observe the kitchen on the left and the dining area on the right. The glass has a gold-toned reflective coating that flows nicely with the doors, but allows one to see through only when there are lights on inside.

With a deep breath I pull open the door and step into a warmly lit, tastefully decorated vestibule. There are brown leather captain's chairs, a table with current newspapers, and a vase of fresh flowers. The walls are panelled in cedar and it smells divine – woodsy and... wild? I smile at the success of the sensory impact. There is a display explaining Wild's menu style. It is a very cosy, comfortable waiting area. A glass door leads into the restaurant proper.

Stepping through to the dining area, I am struck by how attractively the room is styled. There are four-seater booths along the far right wall, two-seater booths along the back wall, and two- and four-seater tables laid out in an orderly array throughout the dining floor. I idly presume that they must push some tables together for less intimate groups. Each table is black with a white linen cloth laid on the diagonal, black leather captain's chairs and small frosted tea light hurricane lamps. The booths are also black with white place mats and the same little lamps. There is abstract art in light earth tones hung on the chocolate brown walls, and the ceiling is high and white with dark brown beams. Overall, the look is sleek and sophisticated but warm and cozy. It is quite a balance to have achieved, and I love it.

Standing to my right at the host's podium is the bronze-haired Adonis I earlier took to be Alice's brother. I am struck yet again by his exquisite good looks. He is quite tall, and in profile his most prominent feature is his chiseled jaw. It is so striking, I am suddenly imagining grazing my teeth from his earlobe to his chin. A flush spreads across my cheeks as my mouth dries and my nipples harden. Oh my, this man is sex on fucking legs. I need to remember to breathe.

He addresses me, seemingly without breaking concentration.

Edward

I am looking over the reservations for tonight so I'll know when to expect the waves of orders to hit the kitchen. As usual, Alice has done an excellent job in spacing out the arrivals. I am startled when the door opens, but I address whoever it is without looking up. "I'm sorry, we don't open for another forty-five minutes."

A soft voice murmurs in response, "Oh... um... I'm not actually wanting to eat. Would Alice Cullen be here?"

I glance up to my left and am faced with Mary Poppins meets emo-grunge-girl. I stifle what would be a rude chuckle and clear my throat. "Er... Alice? Sure, she's in the office. I'll just get her for you."

I stride past the kitchen to the office. "Alice, there is the freakiest looking woman out there asking for you. When did you start hanging with the grunge crowd?"

"Grunge? Edward, I would never 'hang' with grunge. Is she asking for me specifically or just the manager?

"Oh no, this girl is asking for Alice Cullen."

"Hmmm." She looks at me skeptically. "Okay, let's go see who she is and what she wants."

As we walk back to the dining room, MaryP-emo-grunge-girl is reading the menu posted on the wall by the podium. She turns at our approach and Alice surprises the shit out of me as she addresses the girl by name.

"Bella? Is that you? Oh my god, what are you doing here?"

"Alice, hello! It's so nice to see you!" She smiles and holds up Alice's business card. "I... err... moved to Seattle and decided to look you up. I still have your card..." she pauses nervously, biting her lip. "I actually rented one of the lofts upstairs."

So this is the face I saw earlier when Alice and I arrived. I silently snort at Alice's earlier chiding. But I do feel a small tug of empathy for this young women - her expression as she looked out the window this afternoon seemed so lonely. The same emotion seems to be hiding in her eyes even now.

"Bella! That is so cool – you rented the vacant loft? My brother and I live in the other one. Oh! This is my brother and our head chef, Edward Cullen. Edward, this is Bella. I gave a lecture at Bella's cooking class in Port Angeles a few months ago. She and I went for coffee afterwards and we really hit it off! Remember, I told you about it? I asked her to look me up when she came to Seattle."

"Hello Bella." I smile and hold out my hand to shake hers. Her grip is surprisingly firm for such a nervous looking little thing. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Seattle." What the hell is that tingling sensation? I suddenly don't want to let go of her petite hand; I am fighting some weird, primal urge to pull her closer.

"Thanks Edward, um..." she stammers slightly and blushes, "it's uh... nice to meet you too. I'm sorry to drop by right before you open." From behind her glasses, striking dark chocolate eyes stare straight into my mine before she drops my hand (reluctantly?) and turns to my sister. "Alice you must be really busy. Maybe we could meet for coffee sometime?"

Alice's face lights up and she bounces a little. "I would love that! Hey, why don't you come over to our place for coffee tomorrow morning? Say around 10:30? We finish dinner service around 11:00 but usually don't get out the door until 12:30 or 1:00 in the morning."

Bella glances down at her hands. She's twining her fingers together nervously as they hang at her abdomen. "I don't want to disturb you too early in the morning..."

"Nah, Bella, don't worry about it – I'm always up and showered by 10:30. Edward is the sleepy head – he's usually not up before noon. It would be lovely to have your company for a couple of hours before Mr. Grumpy here makes his appearance!" Alice is giggling and I am rolling my eyes. Why do I feel a little embarrassed?

"Thanks Alice. You make me sound like an ogre." Why should I care?

"You're only an ogre in the kitchen, Edward... in the kitchen, and for the first few minutes after you get up in the morning!" She swats my arm playfully. "Speaking of the kitchen – hadn't you better check on your staff to make sure they've got the prep all ready?"

"Shit, you're right." I turn toward the kitchen, but then remember my manners. I turn back to Alice's strange friend. "It was nice meeting you, Bella. Have a good evening." I turn on my heel and head to the kitchen to make sure the sauces and veg are ready to go. In the back of my mind, a pair of deep brown bespectacled eyes are gazing at me curiously.

Later during a slow moment in the kitchen, I stick my head in the office where Alice is working on orders. "Sooo, I thought you didn't hang with grunge?" I cajole. As Alice glances up from the computer screen, a thoughtful expression crosses her face.

"I don't. Something is different about Bella from the last time I saw her. That day in her cooking class she was really very pretty in a 'natural beauty' kind of way. She was bright-eyed and cheerful, eager to listen to what I had to say. Her hair was styled, she was wearing a light blue tee and a cute denim skirt, and she seemed very easy-going."

"Leave it to my sister the fashionista to remember what someone was wearing a few months ago," I tease.

"Whatever, Edward. My point is that even though I only spent that one afternoon with her, I can tell you without a doubt that something has happened in her life. Something has... put out her fire, so to speak. I am feeling very drawn to her. Maybe she'll open up to me tomorrow morning." Uh oh. I recognize the look that has appeared on my sister's all too readable face. "Maybe I can help her. In fact, I really want to help her." Alice flashes me one of her brilliant smiles.

"Alice, you hardly even know this girl."

She looks at me pointedly. "You can spend months or years with someone and not really know them, Edward." Ouch, she's right there. "I have a feeling about her; a strong feeling, like I am supposed to know her." Alice chews pensively on the end of her pen for a moment. "Bella and I will be great friends. You'll see."

I shrug. I have never known Alice to be wrong; when she sets her mind to something, the universe usually lets her have her way. So I guess Bella will become a regular around our apartment. Oh well, she seems harmless enough.

Bella

As I watched him stride to the kitchen I was floored that I had been able to stay coherent throughout our exchange. Edward Cullen is the most gorgeous man I have ever seen. When he looked up at me from what must have been the reservation book after I walked in, I was almost mesmerized by his eyes – they are the most beautiful green colour. I fleetingly wondered if he was wearing contacts; but when Alice introduced us, I looked closely and could see no telltale ring in the whites of his eyes. His dark bronze hair is unruly but it looks so damn delicious in casual disarray. He is tall, his shoulders, chest and waist perfectly proportioned. His chiseled jaw and his beautifully balanced face – he is so fucking blatantly handsome he could put many a movie star to shame. How can one man have so much sexiness going for him? Wow. Just... wow. Then my inner voice popped up: He's so far out of your league, Bella. A man like that would never be attracted to you. Your own husband wasn't even attracted to you. Forget it sweetie. Just go get a cat or three and accept your fate. Fucking bitch.

I turn back to Alice and agree to be at her place tomorrow morning at 10:30. She hugs me good night. It's strange, but that one brief hug from little Alice Cullen makes me feel... hope? I can feel myself being drawn to Alice like the metaphorical moth to a flame. She is so easy to be with, to talk to. Her spark is addictive – I hardly know her, but I feel like I've known her forever. And stranger still, I feel like I really need her.

Back in my loft, I make myself a cup of tea and sit in my window. Idly watching the downtown Seattle street scene unfold below be, my mind drifts...

Why did I come here, specifically? Why did I rent this apartment right above the restaurant where I knew Alice worked? What will I do with myself now? I realize that I currently don't have any defining parameters. I used to be Bella Swan, Chief Swan's daughter and Jacob Black's girlfriend. Then I was Bella Swan, college student; followed by Bella Swan Black (although I never got around to legally changing my name, and now I'm thankful for that procrastination), wife of a young Quileute tribal council member. Lastly, I became Bella Swan, the tragic young widow who also lost her father.

I came here because there was nothing left for me in Forks. My beloved father is gone, nothing will bring him back. The pain of the memories that surrounded me everywhere I looked in Forks was just too much to handle. Here in Seattle I am simply Bella, the girl who lives over the restaurant. I am not defined by my runaway mother or my pillar-of-the-community father, or by my horrific loss. There are no prior affiliations to colour anyone's perception of me.

This is my do-over, my mulligan; I want it... badly.

And, I am scared shitless.

.~.~.~.

I reach out and hit the snooze button on my clock radio. 9:45 a.m. Damn, I need to get up and shower. I couldn't sleep last night. It took some late evening baking, two generous glasses of red wine and an attempted re-read of Jane Eyre to finally put me under. It seems like all I dreamt about was green eyes and tousled reddish-brown hair.

I stumble down the hall and turn on the water in the shower. Pulling off my PJs, I stand in front of the mirror and analyze myself. I have a decent figure, nicely proportioned. I reach my hands over my head – ugh... need to shave armpits – I like the way my breasts look when I stretch like this. My eyes travel down to my groin. Ugh... I need to tidy the forest. I turn to my left and right, appraising my profile. Small but full breasts, flat tummy, nice swell on my backside. My legs are long and slender, but not bony looking, thank goodness. Ugh... I need to shave my legs, too. Being a woman is too much damned work.

I adjust the water temperature and hop in. I love my bathroom. I have a dual head shower stall with seats and lots of room for all of the paraphernalia one might have. My two-in-one shampoo/conditioner, razor and bar of Dove soap look rather lonely in here. Next to the shower, under a frosted glass window where I have hung a spider plant, is a decadent (for me) triangular jacuzzi bath that's plenty big for two but with my luck will only ever host me.

As I'm scrubbing the shampoo though my hair a buzzing noise starts in the bedroom. Damn – I hit snooze instead of turning the alarm off. I continue to massage my scalp, but the buzzing is really getting on under my skin. I decide to run out and turn it off. I open my eyes to grab my towel and shampoo runs in my eyes. OW! Fucking fuck, that stings. I rinse my face as the buzzing continues to grate at my last nerve. I wipe the soap away with my hands and look again for my towel. I groan. I forgot to grab a towel from the closet. Now I am officially pissed off, and that damned buzzer is going to die. I turn off the water, open the shower door and head out to the hallway, sluicing water along the floor as I go. I grab a towel and continue to the bedroom. Fighting the urge to throw the clock radio to the floor and stamp on it, I push the off switch with way more force than is necessary and head back to the washroom. Passing through the bathroom door, I slip on the wet tiles, land flat on my ass, slide into the jacuzzi and stub my little toe. "FUUUUCK!" Oh this is just great. What a way to start the day.

Cursing my klutziness, I haul my sore ass and bruised pride into the shower and finish washing. When I step out, I grab a used towel from the hamper and throw it down to absorb the water I trailed over the floor. I towel dry my hair, brush my teeth and rub some balm on my lips because they've chapped due my constant licking and chewing on them. Abusing my lips and fiddling with my fingers are my nervous habits, and I have been quite nervous lately.

I look in my clothes closet and curse again. Alice seems to be a really stylish dresser, whereas my wardrobe is more suited to a lesbian lumberjack. Oh well, there's nothing for it. I have to suck it up and put on something... I can't go over there naked. My inner voice interrupts my clothing search. You don't have to go over there at all, Bella dear. You know that a friendship with Alice will never happen. She is way too sophisticated for you, sweetie. She won't be interested in you once she gets to know you. You are nondescript, Bella. And Alice is the exact opposite. Really, just don't bother with this.

It is so tempting to give in to my fear and stay home this morning. But, I promised myself I would find a new life, a new definition of Bella. Giving up on finding anything remotely fashionable, I grab a light grey t-shirt, a white, black and purple plaid shirt, and my favourite Levi's. I opt to leave my hair down and loose so it will dry. I head down the stairs and collect the basket of blueberry muffins I baked last night. Grabbing my keys, I slip on my grey plaid Converse sneakers and head over to Alice's door.

Alice

The rap comes at exactly 10:30. As I hop to the door, I idly wonder if Bella will be as horrifically dressed as she was last night. I can't resist peeking through the peephole – she's standing there chewing on her lip and looking at the doorknob. I'm glad I peeked... jesus, what is this woman wearing? I smooth my facial expression to a welcoming smile and open the door.

"Hey Bella! Come on in! Oh! Did you bring muffins?" I take the straw basket from her.

"Hi Alice," she smiles shyly at me, blushing a little. "Yeah, I couldn't sleep last night, so I baked some blueberry muffins for this morning. I'm sure they're not as good as what you or your brother would make, but I think they're passable."

Hmmm... self-deprecation.

"Oh don't be silly, Bella, I'm sure they're delicious! And I am definitely digging into one as soon as I can – I'm starving!"

Bella removes her shoes by the door and follows me into the kitchen.

"Wow, Alice. This kitchen is fantastic! Not that I'm surprised, of course, but it is really something!" Bella is looking around at our marble countertops and professional appliances with real appreciation in her eyes. Edward would be pleased at her reaction. Edward would be pleased at her reaction! Oh my, I am starting to feel my inner matchmaker awakening!

"It's one of the benefits of living with an executive chef," I gloat. "I get to impress my friends with a shit-hot kitchen in which I can do nothing more than make coffee and toast bread!" We both break into giggles. "Really, Bella. I don't cook at all. So, I'm positive your muffins are way better than mine." I smile widely at her, and Bella smiles back – a big, shining smile that changes her whole aura. Gosh, she's got the potential to be stunning. An idea occurs to me as I pour coffee into our mugs. I'll broach it with Bella a little later, after we've talked and I can gauge her receptiveness.

"What do you take in your coffee, Bella? I have raw sugar cubes, honey and Splenda. And, I have skim milk and half-and-half."

"Just Splenda is good, thanks." She grabs two packets and stirs them in. I place the muffins, two small plates, butter and two small spreading knives on a tray.

"Shall we go sit in the living room? I hate sitting in a hard chair at the table for my morning coffee. I like to curl up on the couch."

"That would suit me just fine, Alice. I slipped in my bathroom this morning and I think I have a bruise on my butt, so I'd like a soft seat too." She's grinning at her mishap and I can't help but chuckle at the image.

We sit down and I grab a muffin, break it open and spread a pat of butter on it. Wow, this is excellent. "Bella, this is the best blueberry muffin I've ever tasted," I spray crumbs as I rudely talk with my mouth full. I swallow with the aid of a sip of coffee. "Oops, sorry, I couldn't wait to swallow because I was too eager to compliment you!"

"Oh come on, Alice. I'm sure your brother, the executive chef, makes better muffins!"

"Actually, I couldn't tell you. Edward is a genius with savoury dishes, but baking sweets is not something he enjoys. He mastered the theory, of course, and he has produced his fair share of delicious cakes and things, but he's just never been terribly interested in mixing sugar with flour and leavening agents."

"Really? Wow. That seems kind of... fucked up. For a chef, I mean."

"Hah! Edward came tops in his "fucked up" class, believe me." I'm only half joking. Poor Edward – he was dealt a totally shit hand in the relationship game. But I'm determined to help him break out of his self-imposed sexual prison. And I am starting to think I may be having coffee with the key to his escape.

"So, Bella. Tell me all about how you decided to move Seattle from Port Angeles." I am so curious about why her appearance has changed so drastically in... what... seven or eight months?

"I actually lived in a small town called Forks; I only took cooking classes in Port Angeles."

"Forks. Huh... I was about to say I'd never heard of it, but now that I think about it, the name sounds vaguely familiar. Why would I recognize Forks?" There is something emerging from the back of my mind, a memory of something dark and horrible. Oh. My. God...

"Probably because about six months ago, four people, including two police officers, died in a hostage situation there." Gone is her smile. The sadness I am sensing from Bella is overwhelming. It all just fell into place. This is what put out her fire – she was somehow connected to the tragedy that the media dubbed "The Forks Massacre." I can sense that she wants to talk about it.

"Bella, what happened to you? Why don't you tell me about it." I grasp her hand and hold it tightly in both of mine. I try to make my tone as soothing as possible. "Please, I'm a good listener. Talk to me."

She takes a deep breath...


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