No Matter What

Chapter Four

*X*—Bella Swan—*X*

"I don't like it."

"Is that so?" Bella crossed her arms over her chest and raised a questioning eyebrow at Laurent. "I don't remember asking what you thought of it, actually."

"You don't even know the guy."

"Which is why I got his number—so I can get to know him."

"And that's another thing! What kind of a guy can't man up long enough to ask a girl for her number?"

"The kind whose head can still fit through a door. Not everyone can be as cocky as you."

"Well …" Laurent brushed an imaginary bit of dirt off his shoulder. "That's understandable. But if you ask me, that was a bitch-ass move on his part."

Even though Bella knew she was off in the backyard playing with Grandad, she looked around to see if Briella was within hearing range. The last thing they needed was for her to start repeating any of Laurent's choice words at daycare, or worse—when she hung around her grandmother's church friends. "You need to start watching your mouth. And as far as Edward goes, you don't even know him."

"Neither do you."

"Laurent." Bella sighed, ready to end this unnecessary conversation. There were a few ways she thought about shutting it down, and each of them started and ended with her reminding him that her love life, or lack thereof, was none of his damn business.

But something made her stop.

And that something was the look in his eyes.

Fear.

In all the years Bella had known Laurent, she'd only seen that look on his face twice before. The first time was when she went into labor early because Briella decided she didn't want to wait another month. The other was when Briella, then four months old, had gotten so sick she had to spend the night in the hospital.

Laurent was a lot of things, Bella realized. Some good and some bad, but first and foremost he was a father.

"If you're worried about Briella, don't be. It's not like I plan on sending her off with him or leaving them alone, or anything like that."

"Damn right you won't."

But Briella—his little Bree—wasn't the only girl Laurent worried about.

Since the third grade, Bella Swan had been a constant fixture in his life. That was the year they shared a table in Mrs. Stanford's class, and she gave him a Valentine's Day card despite him calling her 'Bella Bella so Smella' all year.

To be fair, she purposely addressed the card To: Laura. Yet the gesture somehow ended the mini-feud.

Their bond had evolved on many different levels throughout the years; from friends to lovers, and back again. And though some thought it odd for him to view her in the light he did now—given everything they'd been through together—Bella was, in a way, the second sister he never had.

Therefore, his protectiveness of her knew no bounds. He didn't care if anyone were to ever misconstrue that into something else. He knew her—sometimes better than she knew herself—and he didn't want some punkass coming around and taking advantage of her in the vulnerable state of mind she was in.

Bella never said out loud how she felt, but she didn't have to. Laurent and his family were all she had left. She'd always had a lot of friends and family surrounding her while they were growing up. Without that extra support system now, she was in a perpetual state of feeling lost.

He saw it in the way she walked, how she talked, and the way she tried to act indifferent when he mentioned he'd started dating a women by the name of Irina a few days ago. He knew she was jealous. Not because she wanted him, but because she wanted what she thought he had. But he didn't have anything, yet. Things with Irina were new, too new to be taken seriously. And at his request they'd agreed to take things slow.

But that's not how Bella worked. He saw firsthand that when she fell for someone, it came on fast and furious. She gave them everything, whether they deserved it or not. Things were different now. If she got hurt, it would hurt Bree in the process, and he'd raise hell if that happened.

Irina hadn't even met her, and she wasn't going to until she held a more permanent place in his plans. Yet this guy, whom Bella admitted to only exchanging first names and telephone numbers with a few hours before, had been around and interacted with his daughter twice.

"Just be careful, okay?" Laurent spoke with nonchalance. It betrayed everything he had just said a minute ago, but he would say almost anything to rid Bella of the look of annoyance and disappointment she sent his way. "I don't like it and I won't pretend otherwise. Just … don't … I don't know, go falling in love with the guy or anything."

"Whoa! Who's falling in love?"

"What's going on?" Senna asked, walking into the room with a smile.

"Your son—" Bella pointed "—has already married me off to a man whose number I just got."

"The man on the bus?"

"Wha—?" Bella's jaw dropped, wondering how she knew, but then it dawned on her that Senna must have found out the same way Laurent did.

Briella blabbed it.

Although she thought about him on and off all week, Bella never thought she'd actually see Edward again. After all, what were the odds? So when she saw him sitting down on the bus bench again, immersed in his phone, she knew she had to take the chance she had been given.

Like before, he was kind and gentle with Briella. He appeased her when most would have brushed her off. Deep in her heart, she knew exactly how Laurent felt —she knew she should have been worried at his quick and easy rapport with her daughter, but instead Bella found it endearing.

Scratch that—she found him endearing.

When he didn't ask for her number, she decided she would take a chance, not talk herself into thinking she'd only imagined the spark of interest in his eyes, and would find a way to ask him for his.

Briella couldn't decipher the difference between the way she played telephone and the way her mom and her new friend had. So when she ran through the doors of her grandparents' house and told her dad all about her day, she had no idea the can of worms she just opened.

It took some time and a lot of deflection, but Bella finally ended the interrogations and made her way home. They'd asked her to stay for dinner, and Laurent had offered—as he usually did—to give her a ride home, but Bella declined both. She wanted Laurent and Briella to get a head-start on their weekend together and she needed some time to think.

She talked a big game in front of Laurent, but the fact remained: she still had no idea if she would actually call the man who intrigued her so much.

If Edward had wanted to stay in touch with her he would have asked her for her number first, wouldn't he?

But he hadn't, and now she wanted to know why.

Maybe she had imagined that spark of interest.

Maybe he only gave her his number out of pity.

Once upon a time, Bella would have never been so insecure. Most days she wasn't. But getting accustomed to her post-baby body, even four years later, hadn't been easy. She had gained almost 60 pounds during her pregnancy, and had only managed to lose about 40 of those pounds. In her mind, the extra weight mixed with her short height pushed her closer to the edge of chubby, even though no one around her had ever made her feel that way.

Especially not Laurent who, admittedly, liked his girls to be thicker than the average.

But did Edward feel that way, too?

*X*—*X*

"She's such a whore."

Bella's ears perked up at the same time her stomach clenched and spine straightened.

Along with a handful of other nurses, she was in the break room quickly shoveling food in her mouth and hoping not to choke. They were supposed to get at least 30 minutes lunch, but that didn't always work out. And since she was assigned to the ER today, she was lucky to be getting even that.

Her head was down, but when she heard the comment coming from her co-worker, Angela, her head snapped up and her fork stilled in the air. She knew they weren't talking about her. They knew nothing about her. So at best, or worse, they could call her a bitch, stuck up, or maybe even a prude because she didn't indulge in ogling the doctors and males nurses with them. But as far as they were concerned, a whore she was not.

She scanned the room but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. No heads were bent low to avoid the gaze of Angela and her friend. No one was on the verge of tears, nor did anyone look murderous.

Seconds later, a nurse by the name of Jessica Stanley walked in. When Angela and her counterpart silenced their gossiping to snickers, Bella knew who they were talking about. By the look on Jessica's face she knew they'd been talking about her as well. But if she was bothered by it, she didn't let it show.

A few days ago, Bella had thought Jessica was slightly nosy and pushy. Today, she looked at her with a sense of camaraderie and pride. She'd had to bear the brunt of gossip and nasty looks while she walked around her high school with a huge belly. She knew first hand that keeping your head up high and ignoring it all took a massive amount of strength. And without her closest friends, whom she missed dearly, she wouldn't have been able to make it through.

When she saw the opportunity to be that for someone else, Bella waved to Jessica, and said, "This seat's not taken."

Grateful, Jessica returned the pretty brunette's smile and slumped in the chair across from her. "What a day, huh?"

"I think this is the craziest it's been since I've started here."

"Is this your first Monday in the ER?"

"Yeah." Bella nodded, and chose not to add what else she thought—that she hoped it would be the last. She didn't want anyone to think she didn't want, or appreciate, her job, but at that moment she felt overwhelmed and overworked.

"I almost quit my first day working the ER." Jessica shook her head as she remembered that day. Bella was doing great; Jessica had watched her as had many others, but she could still see the anxiety in her eyes and wanted to reassure her. "You're doing a good job."

Bella knew when she was being placated, and mumbled out, "If you say so," not believing it for one minute.

A chair scraped across the floor and they both looked up as Angela walked by—glaring at Jessica along the way. She could be so pretty, Bella thought of Angela, if she wasn't clearly so petty.

Completely unfazed, Jessica carried on, asking Bella if she worked over the weekend.

Bella snorted to herself as she thought about her mix up.

Their work schedules consisted of alternating weekends off, so she had requested hers to fall on the weekends she thought Briella would be with her dad. That way she'd have the whole weekend free to herself, or be able to tag along if Laurent invited her out on an outing with him and Bree. All her planning had been for naught, but she was thankful for it. If she had the weekend off, she would've had two solid days home alone with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company.

"I was off," Jessica offered, despite not having been asked. "But then again, I wasn't. My son was sick with that bug going around. I swear he's more demanding than ten adult patients on their worst days." She knew the feeling all too well; Bella chuckled and continued listening as Jessica rambled about her weekend. She had started to tune her out until the conversation turned to the guy she'd been dating who just broke up with her because he didn't want to date anyone with kids.

"I didn't think that was much of a problem these days." At Jessica's confused expression, Bella elaborated. "You said he ended things because of your son?"

"Yeah, apparently he doesn't 'hate' kids—he just has a problem with other men's kids or something … I don't know. I guess in his defense I should have told him from the beginning, but …"

Jessica's words once again got drowned out by Bella's inner thoughts. Naïve as it may be, it wasn't an issue she thought she'd ever have: not being able to date because she already had a child. And now all she could think about was that handsome green-eyed man who already smiled at her daughter like he'd give her the world if she asked for it.

There was a high possibility she'd never get that chance again, and the idea plagued Bella for the remainder of her work day and during her walk to Briella's daycare nearby.

Finally, on their way home, when little hands frantically started pulling at the sleeve of her shirt, Bella had to snap out of it.

"Mama, are we losted?"

Too tired to correct her speech, Bella sighed. "No, this is the way we go home." If she sounded exasperated to the outside observer it's because she was. Since Briella still had issues grasping what days they took the shorter route to go home, and what days they took the different route to go to her dad's, they'd had this conversation at least twice a week. "We walk more when we go see Daddy, remember?"

But Briella didn't remember, and Bella knew she'd face this question again in a few days.

Later in the evening, her mind still going a mile a minute, Bella sent a silent thank you to whoever listened when Briella didn't put up a fuss when it was time to start getting ready for bed. All she asked, after she got out of the bath and was dressed in her pajamas, was if she could finish coloring the picture she started for her dad.

"Sure." Bella shrugged, looking at the time. She had about ten minutes before they'd start bedtime and about five until ...

The phone rang and Bella smiled, knowing exactly who it was.

"It's for you, baby," she said as she handed her daughter the phone. "It's your dad."

Briella perked up, all thoughts of her picture gone as she pushed the button and answered the phone. "Hi, Daddy."

Bella went on her way, getting their lunch and snacks ready for the next day and listened on as Briella spoke to her dad. She found it funny how, by the time Laurent heard the events of her day, the story always changed. One time, Bella had to physically stop him from driving to the school when Briella's retelling made her teacher sound like an abusive tyrant. Meanwhile, she'd merely gotten a time out for not getting in line after recess.

There was a brief moment of silence before she heard her phone ringing again.

"Mama, your phone!"

Since she hadn't heard them say goodbye, she knew their call must have been disconnected and it was Laurent calling right back. "You can answer it."

"Okay!" She sounded excited.

While Bella finished with their bags, Briella seemed immersed in her conversation. When she made her way back to the living room, it was in time to hear Briella say, "Uh, coloring." Then she paused and looked down, her brows furrowed, before she looked back at her mother. "Mama, what's my favorite color?"

This week … "Pink."

"Pink," Briella echoed, then giggled. "What is yours? Red like your hair?" And by the way she said it you could tell she wasn't asking; as opposed to repeating something she was just told.

Red like his hair?

Red?

Red hair?

Suddenly on high alert, Bella had to stop herself from lunging for the phone. She didn't want to scare Briella. So as calmly as possible, she asked, "Sweetie, who are you talking to?"

"Umm … who is this?" She paused, waiting. "It's Mr. Edward."

And just in case there was any confusion, as Bella reached for the phone, she heard a deep voice saying, "From the bus."