Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.

On Tuesday at 2:45pm, I lead the way into Seth's office. The woman operating the desk upfront spots me and smiles.

"Bella," she greets warmly.

Mrs. Cope is in her mid-sixties.

"Hi, Mrs. Cope," I say sweetly.

She smiles.

"What brings you around, dear? I haven't seen you since, gosh, since you stopped seeing Seth!" She laughs.

Her comment can be taken two ways, but the way that she meant it is since Seth and I stopped going out—he didn't feel it was right to continue seeing each other if he was going to keep treating me, and I'd agreed with him.

I nod.

"I know. That's actually why I'm here; I have an appointment with him at 3:00."

She nods and types away at her keyboard.

"Oh yes," she says, looking back up. "Why don't you have a seat?"

I nod and go to sit down, but she says something else that makes me pause.

"You know, I picked up your book the other day," she says.

I turn back to the desk and smile.

"Oh, really; which one?" I ask.

"Traffic Lights." She gives me a smirk.

I bite my lip.

"How do you like it?" I manage to ask.

I had never once pegged Mrs. Cope to be for reading something like that series; it's centered more around people in their twenties and college years, maybe late high school.

"It's very good, sweetie!"

I smile.

"Well, thank you," I say.

"Oh, and I also read your first book as well," she tells me.

I try to act pleasant at hearing this.

"Really," I say.

She nods.

"I liked that one, as well—although, I must say; sometimes I just want to knock that girl over her head for how much she puts up with that boy and his ways! I hope she grows up not to be so understanding and trusting—young love, though! Jake and I enjoyed it; you should come by sometime and see Jake!" She smiles.

Jake is her dog; I swear he's part wolf.

"Well, thank you; I'm happy you enjoyed it. You should really pick up a copy of its sequel, The Aftermath; it explains what happens afterwards, and you might just understand the guy a little more."

She nods and I step away, blowing out a breath. When I sit down next to Edward, he smirks at me.

"I take it you caught all of that?" I say, putting my bag on the floor.

He nods, still smirking.

"So, this Jake; should I be worried?" he asks.

I roll my eyes.

"Only if you think I'm into bestiality," I mutter.

"I told you your writing was good back in high school—you never did listen, though," he tells me.

I shrug.

"It wasn't until everything happened that I started to take it seriously," I say.

He nods.

A few minutes later, the door to Seth's office opens and he steps out.

"Isabella," he says, looking around.

"I'll be back soon," I tell Edward.

I stand up and take the short walk to the room, and he closes the door behind us. We both sit down and I sigh, running a hand through my hair.

"So," Seth says, leaning back in his chair. "What brings you 'round again?"

"Um . . . it's a long story," I say.

"Well, let's start with an easy question – why did you call me? There are thousands of other therapists—better ones—than me in Seattle alone, and still you chose to come back to me; why?" he says.

"'Cause you know me," I begin. "You know my story, what I went through, and now I just . . . I just need some advice."

He nods and tells me to proceed.

"I actually made this appointment because I wanted to get your perspective on someone," I say.

"Would it be the guy that's sitting right outside?" he asks.

I nod.

"Yeah," I say, and pick at my nails.

"Okay, and who is he?" Seth asks.

"Edward," I answer without looking up.

When I do peek up, I see that Seth is looking at the door, recognition in his expression. He knows about Edward, about what happened.

"Oh," he says. "I see; and what, exactly, did you need my advice on?"

I sigh slowly.

"Considering you know our history from start to finish, I was hoping you could tell me about reoccurring episodes," I say.

"Such as?" he asks.

"Well, he's better; episodes usually—and I use that term loosely, mind you—only come on when he's been stressed out, and when the pressure of something builds up and then the thought of pills enters his mind, and so on. But, sometimes—especially this latest one—nothing seemed to trigger it, not that I know of . . . unless he's just not telling me, then I don't know. It's when there doesn't seem to be any explanation at all is when he worries me the most," I tell him.

Seth clears his throat.

"Did Edward ever see a therapist of his own, Bella?"

I nod.

"I believe he did, once he was out of rehab, he continued with one until they couldn't help him any longer—that's what he told me, anyway."

"He never brought up the random episodes with them?" he asks me.

I shrug.

"I don't know; I didn't ask, and he didn't say anything about it. I'm guessing not, though," I say.

Seth hums in response.

"I would have to speak with him directly, see what his . . . condition is like; get his thoughts and ask him what goes through his mind when they pop up," he says.

I grin.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

He rolls his eyes.

"Of course you were."

I smirk.

"Honestly, it would also give him someone to talk to—like an outlet?—while I'm away coming up," I say.

He frowns.

"Where are you going?"

"Book signings in major cities," I tell him.

He nods and our time is up. We both stand up and he looks me over quickly.

"What?" I ask.

He shakes his head and says, "You look good."

I roll my eyes but grin.

He stops me as I go to open the door.

I look at him.

"You do understand that I can't tell you anything that we'll be talking about, right? That's completely up to Kyle with what he shares and doesn't share," he tells me.

I nod and then walk out, telling Edward that I'm done.