Hello, lovely readers, here's chapter 3. Chapter title belongs to Noel Coward (Tonight at 8:30). So did last chapter's title, but I forgot to acknowledge. Shame on me.

For those of you waiting for the M rating of my story to justify itself – there will be lemons, but E&B need to talk first. But they (yes, plural) are written.

I don't own Twilight.

UPDATED 10/26/2011 – thank you, .

Chapter 3: False Became True

BELLA

"Edward?"

I may have been obsessing about him over the past twenty-four hours, but my memories didn't give him full credit; he looks even hotter than I remembered. He's standing there in a soft tan leather jacket, wearing a black beanie that covers his hair excepting numerous strands of bronze escaping it.

"What are you doing here?"

He's holding a pink Gerbera daisy, the other hand nervously scratching his ear.

"To see you." He steps closer to me and I am under his spell once again.

"I owe you an apology for last night I think and… an explanation."

My knees are a little shaky and this situation as such is entirely too much for me. What does he want?

He has this super hot young model for a wife for Christ's sake!

"You're under no obligation to me whatsoever," I huff, trying to hide the tremor in my voice. "Granted, you asked me on a date, and, yeah, you said you wanted to kiss me and – oh, yes - you forgot to mention the miniscule fact that you are married but, hey, nobody's perfect, right?" Flaring my nostrils, I start walking away.

"Isabella!" He softly touches my shoulder. "Please let me explain – or, if you don't want to listen to me, my sister can. I know it is an awfully clichéd phrase, but it really isn't what you think…" He trails off, apparently realizing that he's right. It's a terrible cliché.

"Fifteen minutes, Isabella…"

I don't know why I do it, but I turn around to face him. He looks desperate, and for some reason, I can't help but trust him. His eyes are sincere as they beg me to comply.

"Fifteen minutes, Isabella, and if after that, you never want to see me again, you won't."

I think he senses my crumbling resolve, cocking his head to one side ever so slightly, giving me the most heart-breaking crooked smile.

"Please."

I sigh. I want to go on hating him, but I can't. He has switched on his charm and charisma to fucking dazzle me, and like a doe caught in the headlights, I can't think straight. He' s luring me into this, like a freaking male version of the Lorelei.

"Okay. Fifteen minutes."

"Thank you," he breathes, a huge sigh of relief leaving his chest, a tiny, lopsided smile at the corner of his mouth.

"So… would you like to go back to the bar… or… or stay here? It's just… it's pretty cold…"

"No, we can go have some coffee," I say. "There's a bar just across the street which is rather quiet. We can go there."

"Great."

We cross the street and walk side by side. I can feel how nervous he is and actually it's a little… flattering.

When we reach the bar, he opens the door for me. It's one of my favourite spots in the neighbourhood, cosy and small and friendly. We sit down in a booth overlooking the street, and Edward takes my coat and puts it on a hook next to his jacket. He pulls off the beanie and his hair is… unf… A complete, perfect, tousled mess. I just want to ravish it with my hands and mess it up worse.

Get a grip on yourself. He's a cheater. You know what that entails, right?

This sobers me immediately.

Tom, one of the waiters, comes over and greets me with a huge smile.

"Hi Bella, good to see you!"

"Hi Tom," I smile back.

"What can I get you two? Tonight's special is the –"

"Just coffee," I say.

"Yeah, me too," Edward says.

"Okay." Tom leaves.

"Oh." Edward clears his throat nervously, reaching for the flower next to him on the bench.

"I… I got you this. A little offering of peace, or…" he mumbles as I don't make any motion to take it. Instead, I check my watch.

"You have twelve more minutes, Edward."

He looks horrified.

"I didn't realize the meter was running already."

"Just shoot."

I sigh, toying with a small packet of sugar.

He's silent, and after a few moments I look up into his face. His expression is heartbreaking as he's trying to find a start, wrecking his brain, his eyebrows drawn together.

Tom sets down two mugs of steaming coffee in front of us.

Great, again why did I order coffee? Now I'll be awake all night. I stir in some milk and sugar and watch the fluids blend together.

"I am married," Edward says suddenly, startling me. I look up, but his eyes are glued to his own mug. "But I left my wife six months ago. We're legally separated, and filed for divorce."

I can see his jaw line tense.

"I could have punched my sister when she told me that, after we left, she just said that Tanya was 'my wife'. She was flustered, and drunk, and surprised, she said, but still…" He runs a hand through his hair. "She knows better than anybody that I no longer regard Tanya as my wife."

He's silent for a minute or two, and my mind's reeling.

"I'm so, so sorry about how that went. After everything I said last night, you must think I'm the greatest asshole on the planet."

His green eyes look miserable.

"Well, yes," I admit. "My thoughts were running along those lines."

He snorts bitterly. "And I can't blame you." He closes his eyes for a second.

Man, his lashes are long! I'd kill for those lashes!

"I like you, Isabella," he says. "And I'd like to get to know you. Am I too blunt?"

I like you, too.

"I don't know. I don't know you at all. I don't know what to make of this. I don't know if –" I stop and bite my lip.

"If?"

If I can trust you. My heart won't survive being broken again.

"Never mind."

His eyes search out for mine, but he lets it rest.

"I think I would like to tell you a few facts about my… marriage," he says. "I probably shouldn't, but I feel that it's necessary so you can understand where I am standing. Can I… Would that be okay?"

These eyes will be my undoing. And those lips… and the soft stray hairs peeking out of his black V-neck…

"Yes."

I stop fidgeting with my hands and fold them in front of me on the table, studying my nails while Edward gathers his strength so he can tell me what he needs to.

"Tanya left her family when she was sixteen. They're originally from Moscow, but they moved to Alaska before Tanya and her sisters were born. She was 'discovered', apparently, at an ice cream parlour when she was fourteen. She became a model, and travelled throughout the States, and a couple of years later, Europe, and Asia for fashion shows and photo shoots and everything. She was, of course, way too young to be doing all that more or less on her own; but her parents, especially her mother, pushed her into it, wanting their daughter to have the wealth and success they never had…

"As it seems, the modelling business is exactly what it's depicted to be, and probably even worse for a woman who's basically, just a kid." He grinds his teeth at whatever thoughts go through his mind. "She was exploited in so many ways; by her parents, agents, photographers…"

He stops briefly and closes his eyes again.

"She told me stories I don't even want to think about. And, at the time it happened, she thought it was normal."

He stops again.

"Is it okay for me to tell you this? I mean, I guess my fifteen minutes have been up for some time…"

"Go on," I say, my voice oddly hoarse.

His eyes lock with mine for a moment.

"Thank you."

"No, I mean it. Go on."

"Tanya and I met three years ago at some silly fashion event that Alice dragged me to because Jasper couldn't go. There was a large party afterwards, and somebody introduced us. We dated for a few months, but never really got to know each other because I was working overtime all the time, and she was always travelling. I only realized that, though, way too late. After about six months, we took a trip to Venice, and I proposed to her. I was convinced that we could build a future together."

He laughs a dry, bitter laugh.

"I really only have myself to blame. She was twenty-two by the time we married. It was her dream wedding, complete with the white dress and veil and only three hundred of our closest friends."

He shakes his head slightly.

"We should never have married in the first place, but that, too, I only understood with hindsight. Her family was up in the skies, it was exactly what her mother had always wanted – a nice husband from old money for her youngest."

Old money?

"My family, on the other hand, were against our relationship from the word go. No one liked her, though I must give them some credit, especially Alice and my Mum. They tried. But, apart from Rose, no one liked her."

"Rose?"

"My other sister. She liked Tanya. At first. But that changed as well, after a few… episodes… But apart from that – nada. Tanya never wanted to attend any family events or holidays and shit, which was rather difficult for me, because I'm really close to my family. That was one of many problems, and in addition to this, we were living pretty much separate lives."

He falls silent again.

"And then, after a few months, I began to notice that she was having… massive problems…"

He trails off again, losing himself in thought. He looks so sad that it hurts, and it's only now that I notice the shadows under his eyes.

"Problems?"

"Well, I guess you heard her last night." He sighs, his eyes darkening again. "Tanya is your typical model. Eating disorders, drug abuse, you name it."

"Oh."

I don't know what to say. He's so devastated. I just want to put my arms around him and kiss his worries away.

"She hid it well in the beginning and of course, with all the travelling and working, and my own schedule, I didn't get it at first. But then, I'm not that blind, and I am a doctor, and the signs were hard to miss."

His eyes meet mine again, beautiful and haunted and green.

"Is it okay if I go on, Isabella? I'm sorry if…"

"No," I cut in. "I want you to go on."

Something like a small light in the dark crosses his expression before he turns serious, very serious, again.

"She became even thinner than before. Ran to the toilet all the time. She couldn't concentrate even for a small space of time. Then she'd have incredible energy, and feel, you know, on top of things…"

"Oh," I say again. I think I should make a better contribution to this conversation in which Edward Cullen is showing me his vulnerable, broken heart other than saying, "Oh" all the time.

"You mean cocaine is her drug of choice?"

That didn't come out the way I meant it.

"Yeah." He nods sadly. "Coke, booze, weed, uppers, downers, you name it."

"That's awful," I whisper. "I'm so sorry you had to go through this, Edward."

I reach out for his hand and squeeze it quickly. Once again, I feel this immediate connection, as if our skins are meant to touch.

"I know I have no one but myself to blame. I had no right to marry her in the first place. I was a stupid, horny bastard."

I swallow.

Tom comes to our table and asks if we need anything, but we both shake our heads.

"Tell me, Edward."

"Tanya's a lovely person, but she has tons of problems, and she won't face them. She wants to keep up this façade of success and perfection. She won't even admit that I left her, that the divorce is coming up. She's in complete denial."

He laughs without humour.

"Which is rather ironic, considering her name is Denali."

My heart aches for him.

"I moved out of our apartment in September and worked out the details with the lawyers. There have been several… situations as the one last night. Her sisters are trying to come here as much as possible, but still, it's often me she'll call. "

He looks up at me, and his eyes are lost and haunted.

"That's the story. Not a pretty one, but maybe you can understand now where I'm coming from."

"I'm so sorry for you. For what you're going through."

"I can't abandon a person who needs me, can I? There's a thing called responsibility. Even if that includes driving your almost ex-wife to a hospital in the middle of the night."

"I see."

I lightly touch his hand.

"Do you think… um… she'll be able to move on?"

"I hope so. I dearly hope so. After last night, her sister Kate said she'd come here, and try to convince Tanya that some time at a clinic will be best really. If only she'll do it, for once."

"You're very brave, I think."

"I'm not." He lightly shakes his head. "I'm a selfish bastard. It was just… I knew I had to get out of it, or I'd go under with her."

He slightly cocks his head, eying me doubtfully.

"Was this too much? I know I shouldn't have burdened you with this shit, but I felt it was necessary so you could… understand."

"I'm glad you told me. But, Edward?"

"Yes?" He looks up with alarm in his eyes.

"I think now I need something stronger than this." I gesture between our coffee mugs, noticing he's not had any of his, either.

He gives me a rueful little smile. I never really drink coffee at night", he admits. "Unless I'm working. It would severely mess with my sleep."

"Me, too."

"Well, then… Care for a beer or something? You're not too young for that, are you?" He smirks.

"A beer would be great."

=====oOo====

Luckily, Chipmunk is open late. As Tom brings us our second beer, the atmosphere has completely changed from where we were an hour ago. The Edward I met last night is back, and he is funny and sweet and entertaining. And so, so sexy.

"So you're basically telling me you're a Momma's boy?" I'm still giggling at the story he just told me where he threw himself on the floor, screaming because his Mum wouldn't let him go to school in his Halloween lion costume.

"I have to admit it, yes." He's toying with his hair. "But can I say in my defence that I grew up in a house full of women. My Mum, my sisters, their girlfriends…"

"And your dad?"

"Hm." Edward takes a swig of his beer. "He's a doctor as well, you know, and he wasn't around much when I was younger, always working at the hospital, off to some conference… So it was always me and the girls. And I'm the youngest, which doesn't make it much better. They'd dress me up all the time – you have met Alice, so I guess you can picture it."

I giggle. I can.

"You know what?" There's a glint in his eye. "At one point, Alice started taking ballet classes, and as she was my hero, I persuaded our Mum to let me go as well."

"You did?"

"Uh-huh. I' d jump around in my black leotard all the time, even at home."

I smile. He is so cute, making fun of himself all the time, but also letting me get little glimpses into who he is.

"How long did you go?"

He shrugs.

"Until I was about ten. At some point, I guess, I just realized I was a guy, and the only guy in class, at that."

He laughs sweetly, and for a second, I consider telling him that I thought he was gay, but I decide against it.

" I had ballet lessons for years, you know."

"And I am sure you were far more talented than me." His eyes are warm as he eyes me through long, dark lashes, green eyes twinkling.

"Actually, before I decided to become an actress, I wanted to train to be a dancer. But I was just a wee bit too klutzy, I guess."

"Can't imagine that." His voice is low and velvety.

"You haven't seen me dance."

"Doesn't mean I don't want to," he says cockily, and I quickly take a large gulp of beer, which then gets stuck, and I choke on it.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I croak. "Just a minute-"

But I continue coughing, tears springing to my eyes as I gasp for air.

Edward swiftly stands and slips into my side of the booth. Gently but firmly, he slaps between my shoulder blades for a few times, clearing the airway. I wheeze a little.

"Thanks…"

My breathing returns to normal and I notice he hasn't taken his hand off my back, his large, warm palm resting there, and then starts rubbing light circles.

"Better?"

He's so close that I can feel the warmth radiate off of his body.

"Yeah," I murmur self-consciously. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he says, and his voice is soft and low.

"Thank God you're a doctor. You always could have performed a Heimlich manoeuvre on me, right?"

"Yes." He chuckles. His hand never leaves its place on my back, and if I have difficulty breathing now, it's not from choking on my beer.

"Hey guys." Tom is standing by our table. "Sorry to bother you, but we're closing up."

I check my watch. It's three a.m.

"Sure," I mumble while Edward nonchalantly takes care of the check. I take a look around and realize that we're the only patrons left. Edward helps me into my coat and after we've said goodbye to Tom, we step out into the street. I shudder and yawn at the same time.

"You're tired, little actress," he murmurs gently. "Let's get you home."

"Yeah, well, it's been a long day…"

"I'm calling a cab. Where can I drop you off?" He's dialling on his cell.

"Actually, I live only two blocks from here. I can walk…"

"Nonsense. I sure as hell won't let you scamper across the city at this hour of night."

As we wait for the taxi, the strain and enormity of the day eventually hit me. I didn't get much sleep last night and it's cold. I'm shivering.

Edward rubs my arms, making comforting noises. His body feels so good this close; we're merely inches apart. I sense that he's about to pull me closer when the taxi stops at the curb.

Dang it.

Edward opens the door for me and I get in before he slips in next to me, telling the driver his address and announces a stop two blocks away at my place.

There's soft music playing, some Spice Girls stuff, and his proximity is unnerving. I don't even know what I want to be happening now. But I know I want to see him again. I want to touch him. After about three minutes, I say, "This is me", and the cabbie pulls in at the front of my building. Edward gets out on his side and pulls my door open, taking my hand as I climb out. We're facing each other on the sidewalk. His eyes shimmer in the light of the lantern and he never lets go of my hand.

"Isabella," he says, his voice a little thick. "Thank you. Thank you for hearing me out. Really. I'd have understood if you'd told me to go fuck myself."

I smile timidly.

"But you didn't," he whispers, pulling me a little to him.

"No I didn't," I murmur, and then, Edward closes his arms around me and draws me into him. My whole body tingles and relaxes at the same time. It feels natural, and oh so exciting. I smell him, the leather of his warm jacket, and his clean shirt, and something like vanilla, or honey, and that manly smell of Edward which drives me crazy and which I remember from last night.

"Thank you," he whispers into my hair. "May I… give you a call?"

"Yes…"

I'm drowning in the delicious security of his arms.

"Okay."

He softly kisses my temple, and then lets go off me, my body instantly crying out for his. I can see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows and I wonder if it's the same for him.

"Bye, beautiful little actress."

And with that, the cab's door closes, and he disappears into the night.

=====oOo=====

I hardly sleep that night, twisting and turning in my bed as I repeat every little detail of what happened over and over again. The haunted look in his eyes when he told me about his melodramatic marriage, and his laughter when he made fun of himself. His crooked smile, making him look boyish and cocky when he'd say something with a double-entendre, and the way his fingers ran incessantly through that silky mess of hair. The way he would talk with his hands all the time, and how he'd incline his head to one side when he'd listen to me. His smell, and the feeling on his soft, warm lips on my temple.

It is seven when I finally doze off, falling into vivid and colourful dreams.

I'm jumping off a cliff and I'm drowning, but I'm not afraid; I'm floating and completely free and secure, utterly secure.

Three hours later, Cedric wakes me by jumping on top of me and meowing loudly, and directly into my ear. He weighs thirteen pounds, so there's no way his presence can go unnoticed, but I moan and keep my eyes shut, thus animating him to lick my face.

Can cats have morning breath?

"Meow! Meow! Meow!"

He taps my shoulder with his paw as he presses his damp nose against my cheek. He's a juvenile at the ripe old cat age of eight.

Finally, I surrender and shuffle to the kitchen to fill his bowl.

Cedric instantly begins munching away, making loud noises as he purrs with content. For a few seconds I watch him with a mixture of love and amusement. He's so bad mannered. But he's a good one, and his instincts are flawless, and I love him. He disliked Jake from the word go, and I'd never seen him (Cedric) behave that way except when he was around dogs. We spent most nights at Jake's place after their first meeting. I should have listened to Cedric, I know.

I grab a container of orange juice from my almost empty yet distastefully grubby fridge, and crawl back beneath the sheets for a few more hours of sleep.

Thank God it's Sunday.

The next time I wake, it's after two. I make coffee and potter around the apartment in my pyjamas while talking to Seth on the phone. He tells me about Collin at great length, gushing about how smart and witty and cute and well endowed he is. I tell him about Edward and last night, but Seth is not quite as impressed as I wish him to be.

"He still should have mentioned it before asking you on a date."

"Yeah, but that's not the most attractive opening line, is it?" I sit on the little chaise by my window and put my feet on the sill, considering the blood red paint on my toenails. "What should he have been saying? 'Hey I'll be married for approximately six more months to this psychotic woman, do you want to have coffee with me?'"

Seth giggles, but I sigh, wondering whether Edward will call at all. After we end our conversation, I suddenly decide that a run will do me good. It takes me about fifteen minutes to locate my sneakers at the very back of my closet. Feeling quite proud of myself and very wholesome, I start off. After further twenty minutes I need to face the fact that I am as untrained as can be. My ribs hurt, I'm panting for air and my heart is hammering away as I drag my poor bones to the lift. My face is a deep beetroot colour; and I'm not at all that sporty, ladylike elegant creature I pictured myself to be forty minutes ago. Yelping, I close my apartment door and head for the shower. The hot water feels fantastic and I stay in until it eventually runs cold, wrapping a towel around myself and chiding Cedric who has managed to throw all the clean towels off the board. He always does that, sitting there after he's finished the job and licking his large ginger paws. Today, he sits on the toilet seat and smirks.

He does.

The phone rings and, slipping into my flip-flops, I caper into the hallway to get it.

"Yes?"

"Hi Isabella; it's me. It's Edward."

At once, I feel the adrenaline rush through my veins. I bite my lip.

"Oh. Oh, hi!"

"Hi." His voice is low and velvety. "Is this a bad time to call?"

"No. No, not at all."

"How are you? Sorry to have kept you out so late last night."

"I'm fine." I wiggle my toes as I stand there, all nervous and excited. "And you?"

"Very well." I can hear the smile in his voice.

"What are you doing with your Sunday?"

"Nothing much. Hanging out."

Causing myself an almost heart attack after attempting to run for fifteen minutes. Yeah, I know. Attractive.

"Do you…?"

Is that a nervous undertone in his voice?

"Do you have any plans for tonight?"

Yep. Definitely nervous.

"No," I say cautiously, twisting a strand of wet hair that has escaped the towel.

"Well, um… Remember how you told me about your mild obsession with Laurence Olivier?"

"Uh huh."

Where is this headed?

"So… The Two Boots Pioneer Theater is doing some sort of retrospective –"

"You're kidding me!" I shriek.

Edward laughs softly.

"Why should I do that? Anyway, there's a showing of Wuthering Heights tonight, and I was just wondering if you'd care to go…"

Breathe, Bella. It's just the sexiest man on the planet inviting you to go watch the sexiest dead man on the planet. With him. Breathe. Into a bag, if necessary. But say something!

"Isabella? Are you still there?"

"Sorry… I… I think I was just hyperventilating a little bit…"

"The prospect of watching a dead British actor does that to you?"

That, and the prospect of watching him with you, Dr Hotness.

"Um, well…" I bite my lip. "I do have a thing for English guys you know…"

He chuckles, and says in a flawless British accent, "My family is originally from London, did I tell you that? My grandparents came here during World War I. Maybe I should introduce you to my great-grand cousin Bobby. He's British, and very nice looking, too."

A silly giggle escapes my lips.

"You mean it runs in the family?"

"On second thoughts, I don't think I will introduce you two. Don't want him to steal you from me."

I gulp, and there's a short pause after his clearly possessive utterance.

When he speaks, his voice has taken on a different tone.

"So, are we on? What do you say?"

"Yes. Yes, I'd love to go."

"Mhm", he makes happily. "And here I was thinking you'd play hard to get."

"I can't refuse an invitation such as this."

"Okay, the movie starts at eight-thirty. Would you like to have a drink beforehand? We could meet at Elsa's at around seven?"

I check the time. It's ten to six.

"Okay", I say, "But in that case I need to go now to get ready."

"Isabella", he says sweetly. "Come as you are. No need to get dressy."

"Maybe not, but at this moment, I'm standing in my hallway wearing, well… a towel."

There is a small silence. When he speaks, his voice is a little thick.

"Well, then… hurry up. I'll see you there."

Thank you for reading, and please review! I'm happy if it's just a smiley, but I'd like to know if it's worth continuing this story, since there has been such little response… Thanks!