Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns it. I'm just playing.
Author's Note: I am so psyched how many people are reading this now. I got a bunch of reviews from people I've never seen before and ten million more alerts (about 60). I don't know how you guys heard about this story, but thank you to anyone who's recommended it. I've been ordered to say hello to Maylin. I don't know who she is or if she reads this story but hey. As always, I need a beta. If you find any errors, I'm so sorry...I try to beta myself but there are some things that are just better when another person is involved. Kinda like sex.
The Offer
There was absolutely nothing to do in the house.
For the past three days I had been sitting in complete solitude from sunrise to sundown, with nothing to occupy me and no one to keep me company. If I had thought I was lonely before, back in New York, I had been sorely mistaken.
The day after the funeral Edward had knocked loudly outside my room at quarter past seven in the morning.
Stumbling out of bed, very nearly falling on my face as I got tangled in the sheets, I flung the door open. I squinted up at him, willing the pounding in my head to go away long enough to stand up straight and stare him down. I didn't quite manage it.
"What?" I had snapped, placing my hand against my left temple as I clung to the door frame with the other. It was far too early to be awake after the amount of gin I had consumed last night in the presence of his family.
"I'm going to Colorado Springs today. I'm meeting friends, and I'll head down to the hospital to talk to a couple of my dad's colleagues at some point," Edward explained flatly, not reacting to my haggard appearance. "I probably won't be back until later tonight."
I had mumbled something about that being good to know and had waved him away.
I closed the door, listening to him pad down the hallway in bare feet before I slumped against it, covering my eyes and fumbling around until I hit the mattress again.
I promptly collapsed and didn't resurface until noon.
When I woke up, I decided to take a walk outside, and explore the grounds. It had been so long since I had been anywhere but Manhattan. I remembered having so much fun when I was younger, playing outside. Forks was such an ideal place for it, playing in backyards, climbing in and out of trees, swimming in the ocean, going on hikes.
But when I ventured onto the ranch house's property, the air was cold and my shoes were almost instantly muddied beyond all recognition. I remembered precisely the reason why I had been so desperate to leave my small hometown.
I didn't venture outside again.
The following days were exactly the same, without the early wake up call. Edward stopped telling me where he was going and what he was doing when he went to the city. All I knew was that I was alone from the time I woke up until late at night and that I had fucking nothing to do.
I paced the house for most of the day.
There wasn't a television or a computer, nothing that allowed me any contact with the outside world.
I would go to the little library room with the piano and flip through books from time to time. Nothing held my interest for very long, most were old musty classics and dry medical books.
This place, this house, was everything that I had always wanted to avoid in my life. I felt like I was back in Forks, a trapped child in a place that was too small to hold her. I was so familiar with this restlessness.
Although, there was one major difference. When I had lived in Forks, I had friends.
I had Jacob.
As I grew older, I became less of a tomboy, slowly growing into the awkwardness of my body in high school. I spent more of my time indoors than out, but I was still the same lively girl I had always been. I simply focused my energy into shopping for beautiful things to wear and kissing boys and going to social events.
Forks did not change with me.
I began to resent it, resent the fact that I had to stay there, and I couldn't wait to escape to college. It was a tiny town with nothing to offer me anymore, just full of nature and memories and the same old people. Despite that, I always managed to suffer through my time there because I knew I would move one day. And I had Jacob. It was enough.
I wasn't as broken as I was now.
Marrying Edward and heading to New York with him was supposed to be the start of such a wonderful adventure. I would finally be free of every restriction of Washington and small town life. I would get away from my mother who resented me and from my father who didn't care. I would have the city to distract me from memories of Jacob. And I would have a husband who worshipped me.
The city had been everything I thought it would be and more.
Such life and intensity saturated every part of it. There were parties and dance clubs and the most interesting array of people to meet. I never got close to anyone there, and I never had to. There was always someone new, someone better to meet the next night. During the day I could go to museums and art galleries, go for endless shopping sprees on Fifth Avenue. In the evenings there were plays on Broadway.
Occasionally I could convince Edward to come with me, to take me to a show or an opera or a concert. His willingness to comply was always due more to his desire to make me happy than a shared interest in what I enjoyed. At the time, I really didn't care that we had nothing in common, as long as I got what I wanted.
But that, inevitably, had faded.
The novelty of the city began to wear on me, and the novelty of his lively, energetic wife seemed to wear on Edward. He became distant and I became dissatisfied.
And that was what had set a chain of events into motion that had led me here, to this awful place. This place that was everything I had spent my life trying to run away from.
It had been three days of utter boredom in this house and I was sitting the living room at three in the afternoon, trying to sleep a little but finding it exceedingly difficult. All I had done was sleep and pace and laze around, wallowing in self-pity. I really couldn't sleep anymore.
I could close my eyes and drop in and out of consciousness, remaining in a hazy dream-like state for hours at a time, but I couldn't sleep.
Instead, I remembered.
I ran through the pages of my life like it was the most interesting novel in the world, letting them flicker up before my eyes like a waking dream.
I thought of New York and Forks. I thought of my time in school at the University of Washington. I thought of Sundays, going out with Jessica and Lauren to the small little coffee shop just outside of campus for breakfast, devouring fried eggs that would nurse hangovers. I thought of that one Sunday I had been picking at my toast when I heard someone call my name from across the cafe.
"Bella?"
I looked up to see a young man staring down at me, a wide, surprised smile on his face.
I took in his tucked-in shirt, his messy array of copper hair, the long lines of his body, and his grinning face blankly. My eyes dropped to his black tie. I had the strangest sense of déjà vu looking at that tie. I saw my own hands loosening it with a laugh. Did I know this man?
"Hello…?" The greeting was more a question.
"Edward," he responded easily, holding out his hand. I took it as I struggled to remember who he was. My eyes fell to his pale, thin lips and I remembered them: warm and simple.
It immediately came back to me.
His shy advance; alcohol that tasted of holidays; his nervous laugh; self-disdain mixed oddly with confidence; our ordinary kiss. I had met him at a bar on the UW campus over three weeks ago when I had been out drinking with my friends.
"Of course," I said with a smile. I was unsure of what he could possibly want, what he meant by approaching me again. "How are you, Edward?"
"I'm fine," he brushed my question away, his smile was still so wide.
It was ridiculous, the way he was grinning at me, as if we were old friends, as if he knew me intimately. The way his eyes crinkled and the white, straight line of his teeth…he was much more attractive when he smiled.
"I'm glad to hear it," I replied, pulling my hand away from his. I was acutely aware of Jessica and Lauren, staring back and forth between us curiously.
Edward swallowed slightly when I released his hand.
I fully expected him to excuse himself in some characteristically awkward manner. Instead he shifted from foot to foot in front of our table. I saw him clench his teeth slightly and noticed the strong line of his jaw for the first time.
When he said nothing, Lauren, Jessica and I all exchanged glances.
"Are you done, Bella?" Jessica asked, motioning to my plate. I looked down at my half eaten egg sandwich and back up at Edward quickly.
"Yes," I said quickly, moving to stand. The abrupt motion caused my shoulder to bump up against Edward's chest. I felt him recoil slightly, but he still remained completely quiet as he watched my friends and I gather up our things.
Finally, I turned to him, my coat slung over my arm, and granted him a small smile. "It was nice to see you again, Edward."
I brushed against him again as I moved past him towards the door, Jessica and Lauren following after me with small conspiratorial smiles on their faces.
"Bella." Edward said my name with a practiced deliberateness.
He said it so loud, so firmly that I couldn't ignore him or pretend I hadn't heard him. I turned around, once again, to face him. He was still standing in front of our table, his arms clenched tightly by his sides.
I cocked my head towards him questioningly.
"Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?" he asked, the question such a quick jumble that I barely caught it.
I could hear Jessica and Lauren trying to stifle giggles behind me.
Trying to hold back a laugh of my own at his awkwardness, I smiled at him. "I'm sorry, Edward. I have a boyfriend."
I watched his face flush in embarrassment, but when his eyes met mine they were that odd mix of shy and confident. I thought he looked a little angry.
Then I heard him, his voice so dejected, "If you don't want to go out with me, just say so. You don't have to make up excuses."
I blinked back at him, slightly surprised. His words would have been confident and angry, but his body language was so meek. I knew he was intimidated by me because he wasn't the first. I knew that by all conventional standards I was out of his league. But everything he said to me, every time he looked at me, seemed to be laced with an importance that bordered on desperation.
And I pitied him.
True, I wouldn't have gone out with him regardless of whether or not I was in a relationship. But I supposed that he didn't have to know that. I didn't want to be wholly responsible for crushing him.
So I walked back up to him, closing the distance between us in four little steps. Looking him square in the eye I said, "His name is Jacob Black, he's got black hair and brown eyes, he hates mushrooms and chicken, we've been dating for three years, and I'm in love with him."
I didn't think it was possible for Edward's face to turn more red than it already was.
Leaning up, I placed my hands on either one of his shoulders and, standing on my toes, brushed a soft kiss on his cheek.
"I'm sorry, Edward," I whispered, not meaning it at all.
I heard the back door creak and my eyes snapped open, rousing me from my memories abruptly. I immediately recognized the weight and the pace of the footsteps coming towards me.
I straightened up on the couch, smoothing my hair down and wishing I had a mirror.
It was strange to know that I was the same girl who had thought Edward so inconsequential once.
Now he was all I seemed to be aware of. Just the sound of him approaching filled me with such dread – with such fear – it was hard to imagine ever being nonchalant towards him. I wanted so badly to feel nothing again. The irony of it all didn't escape me.
I glanced out the window behind me, surprised to see that it was still light out, the sun just beginning to set over the distant blue mountains. The past few days he hadn't come home until well after dark.
"Bella?" I heard him call out.
I flinched, startled and instantly panicked that he was looking for me.
I sprung to my feet and began to walk towards the door out to the main hall. I had almost reached it when he turned the corner. I ran directly into him, smashing into his chest with a gasp. I felt his arms curl up reflexively to steady me, but I had already darted back away from him, my eyes wide.
He looked almost amused by my reaction.
"I brought dinner," he said, his voice steady, not giving anything away.
"I'm not hungry," I replied quickly, even though I was.
"Regardless, I need to speak to you."
Without saying anything else, he turned on his heel and made his way towards the back of the house and the large, bright kitchen. I could feel my palms growing sweaty as I followed him, my steps small as I trailed behind.
He stopped at the table, pulling sandwiches out of a brown paper bag and setting them onto two paper napkins silently. He pushed one towards me and kept the other at the head of the table. I watched without speaking as he walked into the pantry and pulled out a bottle of scotch, pouring it into a plastic cup. He placed a second cup on the table in front of me but left it empty, placing the bottle down in front of it and raising one eyebrow in expectation.
I walked forward, pulling out the chair beside him and then, second guessing myself, I pushed it back in. I poured myself some of the scotch and grabbed my plate, moving it to the other end of the table so that we were facing each other across the long, wooden expanse. I sat down, my eyes never leaving his, and remained perfectly still. My fingers itched to reach for the sandwich in front of me, but I resisted.
He stared back at me for a moment, unreadable, before lowering himself slowly into his own chair.
"Eat," he commanded, as if he could read the desperation on my face.
Without hesitating any longer, I grabbed at the sandwich and took a large bite, chewing it vigorously and stifling a moan.
We ate in silence for several minutes. He didn't comment on the fact that I had said I wasn't hungry. Eating one meal a day, of whatever he brought home in the evening, was obviously wearing on me. He never apologized for it, never asked if I needed anything for the morning, or what I did for meals throughout the day.
"I've been talking to my father's friends in the city these past couple days," he said at last, placing his own sandwich down on the napkin he had spread in front of him to use as a plate. I wondered idly why we didn't just use his parents' dishes.
"People from the hospital? Doctors?" I wondered aloud.
"Mostly," he nodded. He took a sip of his drink and then leaned forward, as if he needed to be closer to me. "They've offered me a job."
"A job?" I said with a slightly baffled chuckle. "You're not a doctor, Edward."
Edward's eyes flashed a little with annoyance. "I've been to medical school."
I shrugged and took a sip of my own drink. The scotch burned my mouth with a strength I wasn't expecting and I spluttered and coughed reflexively. I saw Edward smirk at me as I gasped, trying to catch my breath.
When I looked back at him, he was leaning back in his chair. "Anyway," he said, his voice easy now, "I'll be working in the lab."
"You will be?" I managed, a sinking feeling beginning to stir within me as I registered what he was sitting there telling me, completely calm. "You sound like you've already decided."
Edward shrugged, the slight trace of a smirk still visible on his lips.
"W-what about New York?" I asked, my voice quiet and meek.
"What about it?"
"We live there," I spluttered, suddenly very nervous at the blankness of his face. "Edward, you have a job there, a house, all our things…our lives."
He didn't respond.
He simply sat there, leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest, as if he was waiting for me to do something. Maybe he was waiting for me to start yelling or crying or to launch myself over the table and attack him.
Instead, I felt myself start to shake.
Not with fear or sadness, but with someone excess of indefinable emotion.
"Edward, we can't move to Colorado Springs," I pleaded, unsure of what I expected his response to be.
"I can do anything I want," he replied coolly, his words mirroring what he had told me that day in his office. He was done doing anything for my benefit; he was taking what he wanted without any consideration for me.
He stood suddenly and picked up the rest of his sandwich. He threw it into the trash before I could stop him; ask him if I could have it for breakfast.
Then he turned back to me, his eyes hard.
"Besides, I'm not moving to Colorado Springs. I'm living here, in Hartsel. In this house."
My eyes swept the kitchen before I could stop myself. The empty, dark, slightly run-down house we were sitting in. The house where the heat didn't work in my room and we weren't allowed to use the dishes and there wasn't a television. He wanted to live here.
I noticed he hadn't said "we".
"And what about me?" I asked quietly, afraid of his answer, afraid to hear him tell me that I would be forced to stay here with him.
He looked at me for a long time without speaking, his ice green eyes holding me. I hadn't stopped shaking and I was sure he could see it, even from across the room.
"You are, of course, free to do what you want," he shrugged at last. "You're not a prisoner."
I felt a gasp escape my lips as I heard the words that I had not expected, but that I had hoped for. He was giving me permission to leave, to go home, to go back to New York and live my life. To divorce him.
My elation was short-lived as I realized what that would mean.
Going back to a home that would no longer be mine, living in a city where I didn't have a job or a means to support myself. And going back without my husband. Going back alone.
Everyone there would see it - see me alone - and they would do nothing. Everyone would watch me, living in that brownstone alone until he sold it or until I was kicked out. And there would be no one who would come to my rescue.
Jacob nuzzling my neck. "You can always come to me, Bella. For anything."
I felt tears begin to track down my cheeks silently, while Edward looked on. I ran my fingers over the small diamond on my left hand, watching the dim light reflect off of it in sparks of yellow and blue.
You're not a prisoner.
I met Edward's eyes, finding him standing and waiting and always watching me.
"Aren't I?" I whispered.
I thought I saw something weaken in him for a moment at my soft question. He looked surprised, almost startled for just a breath. Then he was shrugging and walking out and I wondered what the hell I had just done.
