Chapter 3

Sitting in the small café, he tried to distract himself from watching the door. With little to occupy his attention, he found thumb tracing paths between the drops of condensation forming on his water glass. It had only been three days since she'd packed her bags and moved out of the house—temporarily, they both hoped—but he'd already started to understand the torture of waiting.

He was early, he knew, but that didn't stop him from wondering what it would feel like if she didn't show. She wouldn't do that though; she always followed through with her promises. The new perspective with which he'd been viewing every situation, however, led his imagination on new and frightful journeys that always ended up with her deciding it wasn't worth it—deciding he wasn't worth it.

At the sound of the bell over the door ringing yet again, he lifted his eyes to see her glancing around the room before finding him. He sagged in relief as she wound her way through the tables, closing in on him with each step.

"Hey," she said, a little breathless as she draped her purse strap then jacket over the back of the chair.

He reached across the table to brush his fingertips over hers, needing the touch like he needed to breathe. Being without her had been hard, seconds stretching for hours and hours stretching for days. Even though he'd spent so much time away from the house—and by extension, her—he hadn't realized just how much he had relied on simply knowing she was there, that she was waiting for him when he did get home.

They made small talk as they tried to adjust to this new reality. Though they'd talked every night on the phone, and occasionally they'd speak during the day, this was the first time they'd been face to face since that night. As much as he didn't like it, he understood her reasoning. It would be too easy to fall right back into old habits if everything else stayed the same. So now, instead of the easy conversation they'd had from the start, they awkwardly transitioned from one mindless topic to the next.

The waitress came over to take their orders, and as soon as she left, Edward reached out for Bella's hand again. Boundaries were unclear but this one seemed to be okay so he'd take it and every other opportunity she'd give him.

"So I have an appointment to look at a couple apartments after work," she said, fidgeting with nervousness as she spoke. He tensed, wary of this line of conversation and its potential implications.

"Where—" His voice cracked and he cleared his throat before trying again. "Where are they?"

They had trouble looking at each other, never lasting more than a few seconds before finding something off to the side to focus on.

"Close to work," she said. "They're all month-to-month. Furnished. Not really permanent commitments, you know? Just something to get me out of a hotel room for now."

He wanted her to move back home but knew better than to bring it up. Nothing had been resolved yet so there was no point in setting himself up to get shot down. But knowing she was looking at temporary housing was a small relief.

"Good. That's good," he said, not even managing to convince himself.

She hated feeling so nervous around him. It was something she hadn't felt since they'd first met. He'd caught her attention not long after she'd walked into the dorm room hosting that night's party. He was the kind of guy that people gravitated to, as evidenced by the crowd surrounding him and hanging onto his every word. He was pretty—a description that, to this day, she'd never share with him—but still masculine. She could tell by the way he held court in the center of the room that he had no problems with confidence.

Not that she suffered from self-image issues, but she had been used to falling under most people's radar. Comfortable with it, in fact. In high school, she and her friends were perfectly average—part of that group that suspended somewhere in the middle of the all the others. A year ago, she never would have crossed paths socially with a boy like that, so when he left his friends to talk to her, she couldn't help but wait for the punch line. When he started off with the corniest pick-up lines, she was certain that she had been correct. Surely there was a joke being played. Not willing to fall for it, she rolled her eyes and brushed him off. But he was persistent, and after a while she realized he was sincere.

She quickly learned that although he was naturally charismatic, he didn't tether himself to any one social group. He was friendly with everybody, geek or greek, stoner or straight-laced. He was also eager to make her happy, spoiling himself by spoiling her.

Looking at him across the table, she still saw traces of that boy, though time had worn away some of the innocence. He was now carrying the world on his shoulders, trying to do everything himself instead of asking for help. She couldn't pinpoint when the small gestures turned into claiming total responsibility, but somewhere along the lines he took it upon himself to make sure their futures were secure . . . to the detriment of their relationship.

She appreciated what he was trying to do, but she hated that he felt the need to do it. She took a good portion of the blame herself. He'd always done so much for her that she wanted to be able to reciprocate, so when he decided to start his own company rather than work for someone else, she supported him. When plans were interrupted in those early days, she understood that she would have to sacrifice time with him now until he had the business up and running. When he worked later and later, promising that things were looking up and that one day soon he could expand his staff to take some of the burden, she believed him.

Looking back, she could see where she went wrong. Every disappointment at having to alter plans, every night spent alone, she kept quiet about how much it bothered her in an attempt to be the perfect, supportive partner. Even as he put the futures he worked for on hold, she had been too afraid to voice dissent, and now they were paying the price. While it would have no doubt caused some waves if she had put her foot down back then, they might've been able to prevent the problems they currently faced. Now they had to deal with cracks in their relationship and the organizational nightmare of restructuring his company.

"I have an appointment with the accountant tomorrow," he said, interrupting her wandering thoughts.

"Oh?" she said.

Her attention was drawn to his hands. Seemingly without realizing it, he was tracing the pale line left behind where her ring had been. Her heart clenched and she held her breath as she tried to will the tears away before they could form. The mark wasn't obvious to anyone not looking for it, but to her it may as well have been a neon sign. She felt naked without the ring, but circumstances prevented her from asking for it back. She wasn't sure what the proper protocol was for something like this, and by the solemn look on his face, even when it was clear that he wasn't aware of what he was doing, told her that he was just as confused.

He cleared his throat, pulling his hand away from hers and resting his chin on his fists as he looked off to the side. "Yeah, I need to know what I have to work with financially before I make any big decisions."

She nodded when he glanced at her.

"I just . . . I have no idea where to even start. There's so much to think about, so many decisions to make. So many changes." He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, tilting it onto its back legs. "I can't think straight. I'm afraid of screwing everything up."

His frustration tugged at her. "I'm sorry," she said.

"No, I should've done this a long time ago," he said as the chair slammed back onto all four legs.

He glanced at his watch and pulled a face. It wasn't until that moment that she realized just how long they'd been there. She'd have to be back to work soon, something he'd most likely noticed when noting the time.

"Can we do this tomorrow?" he asked, then shook his head. "No, not tomorrow. I have that meeting. The day after?"

She nodded and touched his hand. "Definitely."

"This one's a little smaller, but newly renovated," the realtor said as they entered the small, but cozy lobby. "It's also closer to your work."

Bella nodded as she looked around. It was nicer than the last two, at least from what she could tell of the entrance, but her heart wasn't in it. It was back in a four bedroom house out in the suburbs. But she knew this was for the best. They needed space while they worked out their issues.

"And you said this one is available to move in immediately?" she asked as they stepped onto the elevator.

As they began to ascend, the realtor flipped through the stack of information she'd been carrying all day.

"Yes, and they'll prorate the rent rather than charge you the full month," she said, tucking the papers away once more. "This really is a great place. I've had a number of clients choose this building and I haven't heard a bad thing from any of them. The neighbors tend to be quiet, the views are spectacular. This apartment is on one of the upper floors, so just wait until you see."

Bella offered a half-hearted smile. She was sure the apartment was nice, just as the others had been, but it was hard to get excited about moving into any of them.

Just as the realtor had promised, the apartment was the nicest one yet. It looked brand new, as if no one had ever lived there, giving it a showroom feel. It wasn't a large apartment, but it was plenty big for her. The highlight of the living room was—no surprise—the view. It overlooked the city with a nearly unobstructed view. She imagined it was beautiful at night, all lit up, but the thought of sitting alone on the balcony to enjoy it seemed hollow.

She tried not to wonder whether Edward would be comfortable visiting her there. Logically, she knew it would be nearly impossible for him not to if they were going to make an honest go of fixing their relationship, but every symbol of their separation felt like a landmine ready to be triggered.

Distracting herself, she turned to the kitchen. It opened to the living room, the two rooms separated by a bar. It was small but more than functional with shiny, new appliances and sleek marble countertops. Once again she felt a twist in her gut wondering if she'd ever cook for Edward in there.

She only allowed herself a quick glance at the bedroom, not wanting thoughts to linger. She knew she was thinking too much about her situation and not enough about the apartment itself, so she did another once-over with her mind focused on the decision and not her personal life. In the end it really was the nicest of the three, and the fact that it was only two blocks from her office was a huge bonus. Add in the fact that she could move in right away and her decision was made. She followed the realtor to the main office where she signed the required paperwork and wrote a check for the security deposit and first month's rent, all the while trying to hide her shaking hands.

Outside the building a short while later, her realtor left with one last congratulations. The sentiment tweaked at her. Congratulations meant there was something to celebrate and there was certainly none of that here.

With a heavy heart, she packed up her hotel room and checked out at the front desk. Unable to have this conversation, knowing how much it stung both of them that she no longer lived in their home, she took the coward's way out and texted her new address to Edward.

She had just hauled her two suitcases into her new apartment when he texted back. Whether he'd been busy or had needed the time to craft a response, she didn't know. She glanced around at all of the things that weren't hers, that didn't feel like home, before looking at his response once more as tears began to prick at her eyes.

I'm sure it's nice, but don't get too comfortable. You'll be home soon. I'm working on it.