------------| Sold, Sight Unseen, continued |------------

In three hours, Mike wakes up for work.

He's surprised to see me dressed and ready to head into work as well.

Although we should reduce our carbon footprint by carpooling, we don't. Mike likes to work too late. I like to be at home. Recently, it's because I've been wanting to talk to Edward.

Wednesday at work, I surreptitiously start cleaning out my office. I've been working here for four years; there's a lot of crap to clean out. I save the electronic files I'll need.

Thursday at work, I finish cleaning out my office. I get a few odd looks into the window beside my door, but people can't put their fingers on what is different, I guess. My shelves and walls are empty.

On Thursday evening, I break up with Mike. I'd cooked him his favorite meal—meat and potatoes—and I hand him a glass of wine when he walks in the door, late as usual.

When he notices the single place setting, I say, "I'm not hungry. Still jet-lagged."

I sit across our huge table and watch him eat his final meal. Or at least, the final meal that I will ever see him eat. As I sit, I notice that he doesn't ask me about my day. He doesn't tell me that I look nicer than normal. He doesn't compliment the food I have prepared for him.

Instead, he complains about how his day went. How his boss isn't taking him seriously despite the fact that his father owns the company. How his peers all laugh at him behind his back.

The usual.

I don't tell him that his boss doesn't take him seriously because his father owns the company.

When he's done complaining about his job, I cut him off before he can start complaining about me. I know that he'll probably complain that I didn't support him in our shared meeting today when his boss was laying in to him for something that wasn't exactly his fault.

Mike works at his father's company, too. We're in different departments, but we have to interact sometimes. When we do, Mike complains.

As they say, those who work together don't stay together.

Before he can start complaining about today, I say, "Mike, this isn't working for me."

"What isn't? If you're talking about that project we're on, then I completely agree. Maybe I should ask my dad to make sure we're assigned to different projects from now on."

I wasn't talking about the project.

"Mike, we're not working."

"Baby, you're going to have to be a little clearer than that. I've had a long day."

How's this for clear? "I don't like it when you call me baby."

He frowns. "What? I thought you always liked it when I called you baby."

"No."

He's gotten distracted, so I need to make myself even more clear. "Mike, I'm breaking up with you."

That's clear enough. Mike's blue eyes meet mine in shock. I used to think those eyes were beautiful.

"What?" he breathes.

"You can't," he says.

"Where will you live?" he says.

"What about my parents?" he says. His parents love me. They absolutely adore us as a couple. Always have. It's one of the reasons why we've lasted as long as we have.

"I don't know where I'm going to live," I answer quietly, honestly. "And your parents will get over it."

"But…" he starts again.

I cut him off.

"Mike, it's over. This isn't fair to you. This isn't fair to either one of us. We've been together for so long, we're just going through the motions. We started dating before we were old enough to know what love was."

Those once-beautiful blue eyes stare at me.

"If you could go back to high school, if you could talk to your 17-year-old self, would you tell him to pick me? Would you tell him to devote nearly a decade of his life to someone who he would only love like a sister?"

"Yes," he says.

I stare back at him.

"No," he says.

"I don't know," he says.

But he does know. He knows I'm right. For the first time, I can see him thinking about what it might feel like to love someone as more than a sister. As more than a girl you grew up with, as more than a girl his parents had picked out for him when he was in diapers.

There's a reason we've never gotten married.

For the first time, I see him alive.

"I'm doing us both a favor," I say gently.

"But what about your job?" he sputters. "It's going to be too weird working together…"

Lucky for me, I hate my job.

I know that by breaking up with Mike, I'm breaking up with his whole family. I no longer want my job at his family-owned business. I will miss my team, but I will not miss my job.

So Friday, I don't go to work. I send my supervisor an official e-mail that I've resigned, effective immediately. I know that I'm being unprofessional about not giving my two-week notice, particularly since I'm at the manager level, but I can't care.

I send individual farewell e-mails to all the members of my team and to some of my other co-workers I am closest to. To some, I send a carefully neutral e-mail about the fact that I had some personal matters to attend to. I wish them the best of luck. To others, I give a few more details about what, exactly, the personal situation entails. I tell them I've had to make a tough call, and that, in the end, I had to do what's best for me. When they hear the news about my breakup with Mike, which I'm sure is already circulating through the company's gossip mill, they will understand.

I know some of them will be sorry to see me go. Others, not so much.

The rest of the day on Friday, I box up what little is mine in this huge house that Mike and I have shared, and I move out. I leave those pink silk pajamas hanging in the closet, Mike's Christmas present to me last year.

As I walk out the door, I feel ten pounds lighter.

I sit in a room at the nearest hotel and count down the minutes until Saturday. I watch a re-run of the show Cougar Town.

On the show, Courteney Cox calls some random guy and asks him if he wants to have sex with her.

I laugh.

He says yes.

If Edward asked, I'd say yes.

Saturday morning, I get ready for the afternoon, the afternoon in which I will see Edward.

I'm so eager that I'm ready by 9:00 a.m. I've been up since the crack of dawn and have already washed, dried, and curled my hair. I've even applied a bit of makeup.

I don't have anything else to do.

I don't need to leave until after noon, at the earliest. Edward and I aren't supposed to meet up until 4:00 p.m. I plan on getting there thirty minutes early, so I can sneakily wait in the car and watch his car pull up.

For some reason, I want to see him before he sees me.

I don't need to leave for another four hours. At the earliest.

So I sit on the edge of my hard, small hotel room bed and think about calling Edward.

I think about starting my drive early.

I think about calling Edward.

I think about the fact that 9:00 a.m. is entirely too early to start my drive.

I think about calling Edward.

I think about using my laptop to see if there are any bookstores around the little coffee shop.

I think about calling Edward.

My phone rings.

It's Edward.

I am nearly speechless with happiness.

"Hello?" I say.

"Hello," a voice says.

A voice that isn't Edward's.

Because it's female.

"Uh, hi," I repeat.

"So you're Bella." The woman's voice is flat, but not angry. Instead, she almost sounds resigned. She sounds sad.

I hazard a guess. "And you must be Tanya."

"Yes."

"Where's Edward?"

"He's in the shower."

I'm numb. Why is she there while Edward is in the shower?

Tanya continues, "I hope you don't mind I called. I've been hoping to talk to you about something." She speaks lightly, almost as if we are old friends. I can't believe that Edward has told her about me. I can't believe that Tanya has called me from Edward's phone.

He's hinted that she's a little overbearing.

I can see why.

But then she says something that completely destroys my gleeful mental image of her as a domineering, overprotective girlfriend.

"I wanted to thank you," Tanya says quietly.

Thank me? "For what?"

"For giving Edward someone to talk to these last few months. For making him happy."

I'm absolutely floored. Tanya voice is sincere, without a hint of snark. She seems to genuinely mean what she's saying. I don't know how to reply, so I don't.

I didn't know that Tanya knew Edward was speaking to me.

Mike hadn't known that I was speaking to Edward.

Although at one point, I implied that Mike did know.

Maybe that's when Edward told Tanya.

I'm starting to feel sick.

She keeps talking. "I've been going through some stuff over the last few months; it's made Edward question whether he wants to be with me."

I'm confused. Three days ago, Edward had told me he had flat-out broken up with Tanya several months ago. Not that he is merely questioning their relationship.

"I'm sorry," I say lamely, as she pauses to let me say something.

"It's not your fault." She takes a deep breath. "You see, Bella, I'm pregnant."

I'm sick.

I'm very, very sick.

This conversation is quickly spiraling out of control. Tanya seems rational. She seems nice. Her voice is beautiful, just as I'm sure she is.

I'm sure she's radiantly pregnant.

This is the first time that I have ever let myself think about the fact that maybe Edward isn't what he seems, either.

I say the first thing that comes to mind. I fight not to let my voice shake. I desperately don't want her to know how much she is affecting me.

"You're pregnant?" I say this like I'm asking her if the sun is shining today. "Does Edward know?"

"Yeah. He found out several months ago, the day he decided to call a random number. I think maybe he was trying to escape the reality of his life. We've always discussed kids, but not this soon."

Tanya keeps talking to me, but all I can think about is that Edward is going to be a father.

"He's been pretty distant ever since he found out. I think he's been in denial."

Forget my original mental image of Tanya the seductress drinking expensive wine and running her beautiful feet up Edward's beautiful leg. Now I picture Tanya dressed all in white, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, with a delicate hand resting on her slightly swollen belly.

Edward is a god after all—a god who's impregnated the Virgin Mary.

"I thought you should know."

Edward hasn't said a word to me about Tanya being pregnant. Not even a hint. Not even a well-timed pause. I could always tell that he was leaving something out on that front, but I never would have guessed how big of a something.

"Had Edward told you about this?"

"No." I can't trust my voice.

"I didn't think so. He's been having a hard time adjusting to the idea. It didn't quite fit in with his life plan." She laughs, a beautiful sound of tinkling bells. Even Tanya's laugh is beautiful. "I'm sure you know how anal he can get about his life plan."

I don't, not really. We haven't exactly discussed our life plans because that would have likely involved breaking some of our ground rules. But I at least know that he is anal about sticking to our ground rules. And about his peanut butter, banana, and honey sandwiches, which he's described to me at great length.

"Well, now that you know, I wanted to ask you something."

This was it. This was the point where Tanya was going to tell me to back off.

"I wanted to talk to you woman to woman and find out what your intentions are toward my fiancée."

And the other shoe has just dropped.

Edward is engaged?

Edward has a pregnant fiancée?

"I have no intentions," I garble out. "Edward and I have just been phone buddies."

"A way to blow off steam," I say.

"I don't even know his last name. I don't know where he lives," I say. It's mostly true. Portland is a big place.

Tanya lets out a breath that she'd been holding. Clearly, she hasn't heard anything about our ground rules. Maybe Edward hasn't told her everything after all.

Just like he hasn't quite told me everything.

"That's good to hear," Tanya says. "I was afraid…" Her voice trembles. I can just see her shaking like a precious little lamb.

Then she says the last thing I ever expected to hear. "I'm glad he has you as a friend, then. You seem nice."

Tanya is a saint.

There is no way in heaven I am going to let Edward leave his saintly, pregnant fiancée for me. Edward isn't the kind of man I want if he is even considering doing so.

The Edward I know doesn't exist.

I've just left my friends, my job, my life for a man who doesn't even exist.

"You still there, Bella?"

"Yeah, sorry. Just thinking."

Dying, actually. But she doesn't have to know that.

"I know it's a lot to take in. I'm sorry that Edward didn't tell you."

Tanya is apologizing for him now. I think I might faint. I think I might throw up.

"Oh, he's done with his shower."

For some reason, I panic. Tanya is the one who'd made a call from Edward's phone and is currently spilling all his secrets to the random stranger that Edward has been lying to for months. But she seems to be the picture of calm and composed.

And why shouldn't she be? She's holding the ace in the hole. Literally.

I say, "Please don't tell him we talked."

"What?" Tanya seems shocked.

"Not yet, at least. There's something I need to say to him first."

"Okay," Tanya says slowly. "I can respect that. It was nice to meet you, Bella."

"Yeah." She seems nice, but it hasn't been nice to meet her at all. So I don't lie and say it was.

"Bye."

We hang up.

I go into the bathroom and throw up.

In six hours, I'm supposed to meet Edward for coffee. We are supposed to have our big discussion about us.

I laugh darkly.

There will never be an us.