A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful thoughts.

Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. So do all mistakes.

BREAK – Chapter 7


"Bella, you're making this really ugly."

"I'm making this…? You want to see ugly?"

"Bella, put the shoe down!"

"Miss- Bella, I know you're angry, but if he cheated on you, he's not worth-"

"Go ahead, Alice; keep hiding behind Jasper! I'm still going to stick this fucking heel so deep into your eyeball-"

"Jasper, the baby! Stop her!"

"Jasper, get out of my way!"

"Damn it, Bella, stop this! Keep that other shoe on!"

"Get out of my way, you cheating sack of shit before I use it to chop your balls into a million pieces!"

"Hey asshole, you're gonna hurt your wife. How 'bout you let go of her arm before I-"

"Holy fuck! You see, dude? That's why I was holding her arm! Look at what she did to the window! Damn it, Bella, now the cops are sure to come!"

"I don't give a damn! They can come and take away her dead body and yours once I'm done with you both!"

"OW! Goddamn it! Stop it, Bella! Stop hitting me!"

"You cheating bastard!"

"Bella, stop!"

"Bella? Bella, come here. They're not worth it. I know you're angry, but they're not worth your getting in trouble. Come here. That's right."

"They lied to me!"

"I know, but I've got you."

I've got you…

I've got you…

I've got you…

I sat up in bed with a start.

Tangled in my bedsheets, I twisted and turned out of them, almost falling off the edge. Moonbeams peeking in between the shuttered window blinds landed across the bed, highlighting my heavy breaths, the rise and fall of my chest as my heart slammed against my ribcage. When my hand found its way into my hair and fisted it, the white light sent shadow puppets dancing on the walls. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to recall the dream, tried to understand why it left me with a taste of loss, of hurt, of confusion…yet overwhelmed by comfort.

But as is often the case when a dream wakes you in the middle of the night, soon my shuttered eyes grew sleepy, and if memories of the dream happened to surface, my subconscious buried them once again.

OOOOO

Hey, Bella, it's Edward. Just wanted to say hi.

Hi, Edward. What's up?

Not much. At work getting some stuff together for next week. I was asked to give a last-minute speech next Friday morning, so I'm getting some files together to prepare. Missed you during the run this morning. What are you up to today?

Running errands for the Clearwaters – part of my duties as apartment-sitter entails picking out a weekly arrangement for their living room window, which faces the river. They ask me to text them a picture every weekend with a different arrangement so that they can imagine themselves standing in their living room.

That sounds…interesting.

Lol. They provide the funds, I do as bid.

I hit the send arrow, paused, exhaled through narrowed lips, and allowed my thumbs to move swiftly again.

I missed seeing you this morning too.

I pocketed the phone and resumed my stride, giving up at the end of the block when I felt the vibration of a reply.

Bella, you just made my week, and it promises to be a hectic one in more ways than one.

Before I could pocket the phone, he sent another text on the heels of that one.

I dreamed of our kiss.

Standing at the curb of a crowded, city block, I grinned like a fool. Could I reply openly to that one? I forced my fingers to move before I could change my mind.

I thought of it last night too. But then I think I had a nightmare. Lol.

Again putting away my phone, I crossed the street carefully, looking both ways lest I almost get hit by a cab again while lost in Edward.

What did you dream? I read while I picked out flowers.

I don't remember. What do you think of these flowers – include them or not? I snapped him a picture of what I had so far.

That's gorgeous, Bella. You have an artist's eye in so many ways. Include them. So, do you still have plans for tonight?

Yes. I'm both excited and nervous.

Do you want to know my honest thoughts?

He typed out his thoughts before I could reply.

I think I'm lucky, in so many ways, that you agreed to go out with me next Friday night. I think that now that you're opening yourself back up, your time is going to be in high demand.

Lol. Edward, you're such a clown.

I wasn't joking. All right, have fun, and be careful. May I text you again during the week?

Of course. I'll look forward to it.

Bella, there's SO much I want to say to you, but I want to be next to you when I say it.

My thumbs hovered over the phone's keyboard, unsure how to reply to that one. Either way, he texted again first.

I'll text you soon, okay?

Okay, Edward. Take care. I set the phone in my purse.

"Okay, Gianna," I said to the florist, a woman about my age or so who always helped me with the arrangements. "I think we're done."

"Great choices, Bella. I've noticed you're moving away from the basic red roses and white tulips lately," she grinned.

"Was I that predictable every week?"

"Well…"

I snorted and shook my head. "Poor Mrs. Clearwater."

Gianna laughed. "Well, I don't know about 'poor.'"

I sniffed the arrangement and sighed. "I guess…I'm more inspired lately."

Gianna chuckled knowingly. "Oh, I know that type of inspiration. Should I have these delivered?"

"Yep. Same address as usual."

"Cool. I'll get these out for you and then I'll go grab my lunch next door."

"I noticed that place just opened," I mused. "Do they make good food? I'm sort of hungry."

"They make the best damn sandwiches. Why don't you join me and you can tell me all about this recent bout of inspiration?" she teased.

I laughed. "I do love sandwiches." "

OOOOO

That Friday night was an evening full of surprises.

When Makenna's cousin leaned into me and spoke close to my ear, it startled me.

"Ready for another beer?"

Surprisingly however, his sudden proximity didn't disturb me; not the way someone's abrupt proximity would've annoyed me just a few months earlier.

Looking down at the proffered bottle, I accepted it with a smile.

"Sure, thanks…Brady, right?"

He grinned in acknowledgment and held up his bottle so I could clink mine to his.

"Cheers." As he drank, his eyes remained fixed on me.

Makenna wasn't joking when she said she knew some good-looking guys. There were three of them in our large party that night. One was her cousin, Brady, who had strikingly pale blue eyes framed by a smooth, ebony face. When Brady first arrived, the bar's smoky haze and the dim lighting shadowed him, while the loud music and conversation eclipsed him. However, while those in our group stood to either order another round, for a trip to the restroom, to make a call, etc., Brady had apparently played a game of musical chairs.

Now, this close to me, and despite the green eyes, stubbly jaw, and soft lips which filled my thoughts for the past couple of days, Brady's handsome face was no longer quite so veiled.

Brady set down his bottle. "So what do you do for a living, Bella?"

"Right now? I'm writing a novel while I apartment-sit for some friends and take the next four months, before those friends return and kick me out, to decide what to do with the rest of my life."

"Apartment-sitting, novel-writing, and the possibility of homelessness in the next four months." He nodded and took another drink. "That actually sounds like the life of someone destined to write a worldwide bestseller, and it deserves another toast. Cheers."

"Uh…okay." I chuckled as we clinked our bottles together yet again.

"You're like that author who was about a dollar away from declaring herself bankrupt before she published what's arguably the Bible to some today."

"While I thank you for the vote of confidence, the author to whom you refer is British, so it's more likely she was a pound away from bankruptcy, not a dollar."

He conceded with a broad-shouldered shrug. "Good point. And I believe the pound was almost double in value to the dollar at the time, so it's an important distinction, which deserves another toast. Cheers."

I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing as we toasted once more.

"They say it's all a matter of chance anyway, don't they?" Brady said after another swig. "Our entire lives are chapters waiting to be written by good strokes of the pen or by bad strokes of the pen."

"I've heard something similar," I said. "Though, the way I've heard it, most chapters fall somewhere in between good and bad."

He raised his bottle in acknowledgment, and I was somewhat disappointed when he didn't suggest another toast.

"Yes. Yes, you're right. Not everything can be classified into such rigid categories. Flexibility is something I try to instill in my students, especially nowadays."

"So, you're a teacher?" I asked as he held my gaze through those wintry-blue eyes.

"Yep. I'm a history teacher at a middle-school uptown."

"My dad's a big history buff."

"Hey, so is mine. That's too much of a coincidence. It deserves another toast. Cheers."

We drank.

"But yeah, when I was growing up," he said, "every sentence my dad and I shared had to contain a date and a historical reference."

"That sounds like an interesting childhood."

"It was immensely stimulating, and it had the side benefit of making me quite popular with others as I grew older."

"So, you spout historical references at random?" I asked.

"Only when I'm trying to impress people."

"You haven't spouted any during our conversation."

"Maybe I'm not trying to impress you." He grinned, showcasing a set of perfect teeth.

"Ahh," I said, hiding my amusement by taking another drink.

"So now, though I try to keep up with current events so that I can remain relevant in a world full of Kardashians and Kombucha, I try to instill my undeniable love for history and the attractiveness it conveys into my students as well as into my own kids; though, mine are still so young that I'm not so sure how well I'm faring."

By then, I'd given up the struggle not to laugh, and Brady laughed along with me. He had a deep, contagious laugh.

"So, you have children?" I asked, inwardly marveling at how naturally, how conversationally the question had erupted from me.

"Yep." Brady reached into his back pocket and pulled out his cellphone, grinning as he scrolled. He stopped at a none-too-shabby image of himself wearing black board shorts while strolling down a white-sand shoreline, blue waters lapping at his bare feet and palm trees swaying off to the side. But none of those images were the picture's main focus. On either side of him, Brady held the hand a beautiful, golden-haired and caramel-skinned child.

"Anna is six, and Quil is four. This is one of the most recent pictures we have from this past summer." The entire time he spoke, Brady's voice was infused with the same sort of pride and joy he radiated in the picture. "I took 'em to the Bahamas for a week, to that resort with the waterpark and the Aquarium? We had a blast."

"They're seriously adorable. Congratulations, Brady. You and your wife make beauties." I smiled softly.

"Thank you," he replied, repocketing the phone, "and while their mom and I will undoubtedly agree with you on the beauties part, she's my ex-wife."

"Oh. I'm sorry." I offered him a contrite smile.

He waved off my condolences. "Don't be sorry. Things don't always work out, right? We're all much happier now. Doesn't benefit anyone, least of all the kids, if the parents remain in a relationship that's not working."

"I suppose," I murmured. At the question in his raised brow, I explained myself. "I'm recently divorced as well, but we had no kids; although he has one now."

"Ah, okay. Should I offer my condolences for the divorce?" he asked with a soft smile of his own.

"Not really; no."

A shared chuckle dispelled the hint of tension. When Brady's laughter faded, the grin remaining showcased a perfect set of dimples.

"Yeah, divorce takes getting used to. For one, you've got to learn how to be out there again when you thought all that bullshit was behind you."

I chuckled heartily. "True."

"Not that it doesn't give you the opportunity to meet interesting people." He smiled.

"Also true. Cheers?" I raised my bottle, and he raised his.

"Though, my ex-wife lucked out and remarried a year ago. Her new husband is a decent guy – thank goodness," he stressed. "The kids are the most important beings in our lives, and whoever shares our lives has to love them as much as we do."

"Then I'd say you and your ex-wife definitely have your priorities set straight."

"Thank you," he said softly. "And I think that deserves a toast. Cheers."

"Cheers," I laughed.

OOOOO

Brady and Makenna walked me home, the three of us promising to meet late the next day for brunch after we slept off our hangovers. Makenna and I shared warm hugs. But then Makenna had a sudden coughing fit which necessitated her walking away as quickly as her uneven steps could carry her.

"So, it was really good to meet you, Bella," Brady said, hands in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "I had a great time tonight."

"It was good to meet you too, Brady," I grinned, "and I had a wonderful time with all of you. It's been a while since I was out with such a great group."

The city lights shone off of Brady's ebony skin, making him almost ethereal. Then again, I was buzzed, so everything glowed. He was about average height so that when he stepped closer, I didn't have to tilt my head as sharply to hold his gaze as I did with Edward. A good thing because I swayed slightly as he neared.

"Whoa, are you okay?" He reached tentatively, but I backed away, chuckling.

"I'm fine. I just haven't gotten buzzed in a while."

"Well then, I'm glad you chose our crazy group with which to get drunk. Hey listen," he cleared his throat, "I know we're all getting together later for brunch, but I was wondering if…" another throat clearing, "you wanted to get together later on in the week? Maybe Friday for dinner or something?"

"Uhm…" I scratched my head. "I might have something Friday."

"Oh. So, how about Saturday? I've got the kids early in the day, but maybe dinner?"

My prolonged silence must've clued Brady in to my hesitancy. He stopped rocking on his feet.

"I'm sorry, I assumed from our conversations tonight that you weren't involved with anyone? Did I assume wrong?"

I smiled sheepishly. "Brady, I'm sorry. There sort of is someone, but it's very recent, and…I was giving off mixed signals." I raked a hand through my hair. "I apologize, and although I do find you attractive and interesting, I…"

Brady chuckled good-naturedly. "Well, it's definitely gratifying to know you find me attractive and interesting."

"I must be drunk to have admitted that so easily," I laughed.

"I think we're all somewhat drunk," he chuckled, "so, I'll use that excuse to admit I'm a bit disappointed since I find you immensely attractive and interesting as well. Still, I hope we can be friends?"

"Of course," I agreed quickly. "I really did enjoy your company tonight."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that then." He grinned broadly, showcasing those dimples yet again. "I'll see you later today, Bella?" he double-checked as he began a slow turn.

"I'll see you later today, Brady."

OOOOO

"I'm going to kill them both!"

"You have to try to stop saying that, okay? Security called the cops."

"I don't give a fuck!"

"Shh. Come here. They're not worth it, Bella. If they did this to you, they're not worth it."

"They're assholes!"

"Yes, they are. Come here. That's right. Shh. It'll be okay. I promise you."

"I promise you…"

"I promise you…"

"I promise you…"

Again, I awoke with a start, my only memory was the realization that I'd awoken with a name on my lips…and with the feel of a warm set of arms around me.

OOOOO

Unofficial Notes taken during session between myself, Dr. Rosalie Lane-Stevens, and Isabella Swan, patient.

Bella and I have met weekly for fourteen months. Her therapy has progressed with advancements and setbacks along an overall normal pattern. She has a sharp mind and a strong will, which are advantages, though they sometimes mean past erroneous beliefs and thought processes take longer to work through. However, her resolve also means that when triggers are acknowledged, Bella shows a wonderful ability to turn to coping mechanisms. That being said, as I continually remind all my patients, cognitive awareness is a lifelong endeavor.

Over the past six sessions, Bella's self-awareness has progressed by leaps and bounds. There are numerous reasons for this burst of forward progression, i.e.:

The clinical stages of grief, which can't be avoided, have presented themselves and been given acknowledgment;

Time, which always proves itself one of the best healers, has elapsed;

Friendships are being formed;

And, of course, a romantic interest should never be discounted in importance.

In this case, Edward (aka Yeti), has re-sparked Bella's interest in the opposite sex (I did tell her she wasn't a lesbian, lol). Bella's overall mood improves considerably as well; she advances from acutely distrustful at the onset of our sessions fourteen months earlier to cautiously optimistic as she begins to reconstruct her life, work through issues, search for solutions to problems and to triggers, accept the past, find enjoyment in previous activities (writing), in new activities (exercise, running, socialization), and anticipate (though somewhat still guardedly) future activities (friendships, the aforementioned Yeti).

Side Note: The past couple of sessions with Bella are like running a marathon. This vibrant, young woman, who fourteen months ago believed the best days of her life were behind her, literally gushes today.

Okay, enough side notes; Bella is on a roll, and I must focus!

We begin the session with a discussion on the new friendships she's building:

"…on Friday night, Makenna met me outside of the apartment building-"

"She picked you up?"

"Yeah, which made it less awkward for me to walk into the bar and meet her friends, especially since I was nervous, Doc," Bella admits.

Though I'll never add to her anxiety, I'm admittedly nervous as well. Yes, making new friends is a wonderful step in the right direction, but after her previous experience, I hope she only ever makes good ones.

"But it turned out I really didn't have to be uneasy. We started out at a bar where we met with four other people: Maggie, who's at NYU with Makenna; Bree, who own the sushi place where Makenna works; Bree's boyfriend, Diego; and Diego's best friend, Sam."

"It was a nice-sized group," I point out.

Positive, social group interactions – Win.

"That's what made it so comfortable. Makenna and I had a great time talking one on one on our way to the bar. She's such an open book; she told me all about her family, growing up in Brooklyn, her parents' wary acceptance of her career choice. But then, at the bar, I had so many interesting people to meet, and I felt as if I already had someone in my corner."

When Bella pauses, I allow her time to process her own words. I wonder if she realizes how our past few sessions are led more by her than they are by me?

"Anyway, they were all the nicest people, really friendly and down-to-earth, who went out of their way to make me feel welcome."

Bella hugs her favorite pillow. Her eyes sweep around the room. When she smiles, I follow her gaze to one of my framed quotes, which appears to catch her attention even more recently.

Healing doesn't mean the damage never existed. It means the damage no longer controls our lives.

"A few minutes after we arrived at the bar, Makenna's cousin, Brady met us."

Here, Bella proceeds to give me a run-down on her time with Brady.

Comfortable enough to flirt – Win.

"Sounds like some fun flirting," I say with a grin.

Competition for Yeti?

Bella sits up and turns to me.

"I was flirting with Brady, but…"

"But?" I prompt. "Bella, there's nothing wrong with-"

"Edward and I kissed the other morning."

Do you see what I mean?

What do I even classify this one?

WIN? Huge WIN? Step forward? Nonetheless, an imminent discussion on ensuring all relationships are nurtured not to the exclusion-

"Doc Rose?"

"Hold on, Bella," I say, holding a finger up in the air. "I won't even pretend I'm not writing some serious notes up on this one."

When I look back up at her, she's smirking, and I laugh openly.

"Holy heck, Bella," I finally say, choking back the rest of my overjoyed laughter. "Holy. Heck."

Bella laughs as well, but when she goes on to explain what prompted this kiss, my admitted elation at her progression is somewhat extinguished.

"There are a couple of biggies there."

"Yes, there are."

"First and foremost, that's twice Jasper has appeared at your apartment unannounced and uninvited, Bella. I tend to agree with Edward's opinion as it relates to your ex-husband: the man is full of shit, and if he appears at your doorstep again, let him know you're seriously considering getting the cops involved."

Bella sighs and lays back down. "You should've seen Edward's expression, Dr. Rose. He was so angry on my behalf. He said my anger at Jasper was justified."

"Your anger definitely wasn't wrong, Bella, and it's understandable how hearing Edward say it was a relief. His opinion is becoming important to you. I am…a bit uneasy, however, that he claims he has something he needs to tell you and hasn't told you yet. Delays usually lead to more trouble."

Bella is quiet.

"Bella?" I prompt after a couple of minutes.

"Dr. Rose, do you know that in the few days I've known Makenna, I feel as if I know her so much more than I ever knew Alice?"

Talk about delays; she's clearly changing the subject. But that's how life works, right? Two steps forward, one back.

"How come?" I ask softy, even though, from fourteen months of sessions, I more or less know the answer. But Bella needs to verbalize it so that she can know it for herself.

"I think…" she begins hesitantly, "from the beginning, Alice fed my ego."

She pauses, and I wait.

"I've always felt like I have to put on my best face, the best side of me, even for my husband when I was married; the way I'd been doing all of my life, with all of my relationships."

Self-awareness, by leaps and bounds. WIN! Step forward!

"Go on."

"Alice allowed me to take the lead, to be the mentor, the one in charge; at least," she snorts, "that's what I thought." Bella rakes a hand through her pretty, new bob. "In reality, she was studying me, observing my life; though, I still don't know why."

Another step back.

Here, I must speak.

"I think…you're mostly correct, but please don't discount your leadership abilities or your ability to be a mentor simply because someone took advantage of the fulfillment that role gave you. As to why Alice Cullen (the whore) may have been studying you and observing you, the answer might be as simple as it sounds. Envy."

Bella snorts in a self-deprecating manner. "Envy what, my weaknesses? My inability to have a child?"

See why cognitive awareness is a life-long endeavor? Two steps forward, one step back; everyone; always.

"Bella, some women have so much going for them: financially, career-wise, education-wise, families, etc., yet inside, they still feel empty. The reasons for this are as varied as are personalities, and in this room, it's not our job to explore the motivation of others. Yet, it's how we as women choose to fill those voids which either empowers or weakens us. Alice Cullen (the whore) chose to go beyond emulation, and she crossed a line into envy. Then, she crossed a further line. That doesn't make her stronger than you in any way; it makes her weaker."

"And my infertility as compared to her fertility?"

It's my turn to pause for a moment. This is a topic she rarely broaches, and she's brought it up twice in one session. I have to make sure I approach it with the sensitivity yet forthrightness it deserves.

"We haven't touched much on the subject of your fertility."

"You mean my infertility," she corrects.

"Your medical records indicate you're not necessarily infertile, Bella."

"No. My eggs are just hard-headed, literally, which kind of makes it difficult to make a baby in the biblical manner." She sighs, and when she next speaks, it's barely above a whisper. "My ex-husband and I spent tens of thousands of dollars on in vitro, and…nothing."

"Bella-"

"The point is, Doc, I don't want to transfer my shitty modus operandi to another man now."

Ahh, so here's the heart of today's session. She's scared about her growing feelings for Edward; elated, but so damn scared. Yet, she doesn't see what this acknowledged fear actually means!

I suppose, once more, my prolonged silence makes Bella suspicious. She turns again and finds me grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Isabella Swan," I chuckle, "let me point out a few things to you because they're just too wonderful not to point out." I enumerate each with a finger. "You're making friends, you're flirting, you're kissing, you're bringing up subjects you used to completely shut me down on. And now…Bella, don't you see? The fact that you recognize so much of your coping process was a modus operandi is a huge win!"

"Yay, I recognize I have a bend toward codependency. Huge win for me, indeed."

"Let me tell you why I abhor that term. Both men and women can get stuck in a frame of mind where their happiness depends on another, yet the term tends to judge and classify women for a modus operandi which has been thrust upon us since the dawn of ages."

Bella lies perfectly still, and I lean forward.

"Bella, this is why, while I'd never suggest you should be thankful to Jasper and Alice for what they did, I have said their betrayal gave you an opportunity to stop, breathe, examine, and study yourself in a way many women never stop to examine and study themselves."

"Then how do I stop this from being my modus operandi when…when if I'm being honest, Doc, I already see Edward as an important person in my life, and it's beginning to scare the hell out of me. My morning runs with him, our coffee breaks, our texts…that kiss…they're the best part of my day. And even the fact that I know something's off, the fact that he's told me himself that he's got something huge to tell me…not even that makes me stop looking forward to seeing him. I…don't want to set myself up like that, the way I did with Jasper, all over again."

Sigmund, baby, help me find the right words here.

"Alright, honey, it's metaphor time."

When she groans, I chuckle.

"Consider that you've been napping for the past year, Bella. Sometimes we need a nap, right?"

"Yes," she moans suspiciously.

"Our day becomes too hectic, and our bodies and minds need a few minutes of rest. So, we close our eyes and rest for a bit. But when you nap, Bella, do you set an alarm?"

"Not usually, no."

"Alarms tend to jar us out of our sleep before we're ready. No; with naps, we're usually woken by a combination of internal and external stimuli. Internally, our bodies and minds are ready; they've rested enough, recovered sufficiently so that an external voice suddenly penetrates that state of mind between sleep and wakefulness, or we suddenly sense movement around us, or a certain scent permeates the air around us, or a bright light fills our heavy eyelids."

"Or a touch jolts us back into the world of the living," Bella breathes.

"Yes. Perhaps…perhaps Edward is your external stimuli; the one which wakes you either because his volume is louder, his music better, his light brighter, his touch more stimulating. Bella, there's nothing wrong with allowing people to be important in your life, to allow that their voice is a little bit louder, that you're attuned to their movements a little more than to others, that their scent is more pleasing, their light a little bit brighter, and their touch a bit more stimulating. It's wonderful to have that one or two or three or whatever number of people who are important. But when you allow your life to be filled by so much more, allowing one to be most important doesn't feel as frightening."

"So, don't ignore other parts of my life to the exclusivity of just one person."

"There's a whole world out there, Bella. Not everything is red or green, not everyone is an asshole or an idiot, and Life isn't fair but neither is it unfair. It's unpredictable, and so we must always be preparing for it. Does that make sense?"

"It makes a little more sense every day."

OOOOO

"My phone is just blowing up lately."

Sitting on the Clearwaters' leather couch with my legs propped under me, I grinned at the sight of Edward's laughing face. It was Monday night. We'd texted back and forth a bit over the past few days, but this was the first time Edward actually Facetimed me. We talked for a long time. I told him about my week so far, about Makenna, Maggie, and I mentioned Brady. I told him how we all had plans to get together again during the week, about my thoughts and reflections as I jogged alone, and about how great my writing was going. In turn, Edward shared with me the first day of his conference, about jogging alone around Atlanta, the sights he saw, and he teased me about how busy my social calendar had gotten overnight.

"What did I tell you about your attention being in high demand?"

He sat across the hotel room's bland, beige couch, which was set against a bland, beige wall, and I smiled to myself at how, in something as simple as a ratty tee shirt and sweats, he contrasted with all the drabness.

"It feels good to be in demand, Edward," I shrugged, holding the phone close so I could see him clearly…so that he could see me clearly in my tank top and shorty shorts. After all, over a month of exercise had worked some magic on my muscle tone, and as Dr. Rose reminded me, there was nothing wrong with a little self-pride.

"I feel…like I'm waking up from a long nap."

Edward chuckled. "That's a good metaphor."

"It's Dr. Rose's. I can't take credit for it," I grinned.

Edward swallowed. "Bella, I'm so glad to hear you're having a good week. Though, I miss seeing your face in person," he whispered.

"I miss seeing yours too," I admitted.

"And I want to touch that pretty, new bob so badly," he grinned. Yet, the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"There's a wall, right there," I said, gesturing with my hand, "and for once, I don't think it's me throwing it up."

"It's not you," he acknowledged, shaking his head. "Not at all. It's all me. God, I can't wait to see you on Friday." He frowned.

"See, you say that, but then you look like someone preparing for the guillotine. I wish you would just tell me-"

"I should've just told you last time we were together. But now…over the phone…" he shook his head miserably, "not over the phone."

"Are you sure you're not married?" I smirked.

He shook his head.

"Did you kill someone?"

He snorted. "No. Not yet."

Our conversation paused while we simply took one another in.

"Can I ask you something personal?" he asked.

"You can ask. It doesn't mean I'll answer."

"Fair enough. Has your ex-husband bothered you again?"

I frowned. "No."

"Good," he sighed. "I've been a bit…worried."

"My frickin' hero," I smirked, making him chuckle.

"Fucking creeper."

"Yeah," I agreed. "He is. But I seem to attract the type."

When he frowned darkly, I laughed and laughed.

"Bella…I wish I was there with you."

"I…sort of do too."

"Do you know how great it is to hear you admit that?"

"Do you know how hard it is to admit it when I'm not drunk?"

Edward's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Never mind," I snorted.

Again, that miserably guilty expression spread across his face.

"If you allow me, I promise you, I've got you, Bella."

I groaned, fisting my hair. "I just got the strangest sense of- All right, this is getting a bit too cryptic for me, and you need to be up early. So maybe we should say good night?"

He smiled softly, apologetically. "Hey, have a good night and a good day, okay?"

"You too, Edward. Good night."

OOOOO

"I tried! I tried my hardest to be a good wife, a good friend."

"I'm sure you did. But if we're here right now, they obviously weren't worth your effort."

"Edward, you asshole. Why the hell are you comforting her?"

"Because you're still a little kid who can't keep her damn hands out of the- Shh. I've got you."

"I didn't deserve this, just like my dad didn't deserve it when my mom did this."

"Jasper, what the hell is she talking about?"

"Uh…"

"Shh. It'll be okay. This dude, Jasper? Your piece of shit husband? He's not worth your tears. Come on."

"Yeah, get her out of here, Edward! She's a fucking maniac! A fucking lunatic who belongs in the loony bin! Jasper and I would've eventually spoken to her like adults, kept it friendly-"

"Friendly? FRIENDLY?!"

"Bella, don't listen to- Ow, fuck. My nose. It's all right, Bella, but the cops are right outside. Please come here. If you allow me, I promise, I've got you."

"She said friendly! FRIENDLY? FUCK FRIENDLY!"

"No, Bella, No. I've got you; I promise…"

"I've got you; I promise…"

I gasped wildly as I woke.

OOOOO

Thursday afternoon after my morning jog, some writing, and a bath, Gianna texted me to see if I wanted to meet her for lunch again. When I agreed enthusiastically, she gave me the address. Fixing my hair, putting on some lipstick, and throwing on a plush sweater, I left my apartment with a skip in my steps and a smile across my glossy lips.

When I emerged from the elevator, my heart dropped to my feet.

For a few seconds, we simply glared at one another.

"I'm not even going to ask how you know where I live because apparently, it's the world's worst kept secret. But if I'm not allowed around you, that doesn't give you the right to come-"

"So Jasper has been here," she said through gritted teeth.

"You need to leave before I'm the one who calls the cops."

"I didn't call the cops that day, Bella," she spat. "Security called them because you were screaming and hitting and threatening and breaking things like a goddamn-"

"You may not have called them, but you were sure happy-go-lucky when they arrived. Alice, get the hell-"

"I'm just here to talk to you, Bella," she cut me off. "If you call the cops, what with the restraining order but the fact that I'm the one here, we'll both have a lot to explain. Yet you're the one with the record, and I'm the one with a baby to go home to, so think twice."

I flinched, trying my hardest not to either howl in pain or punch her in the face because her words cut me to the quick…and were true.

"I swear to God, Alice," I said, choking on my traitorous, shaking voice, "if you don't leave-"

"My dad came to see me a few days ago." She paused, swallowed, glared at me through eyes full of hatred and distrust as if I was the one who'd ruined our friendship by fucking her husband.

"What the hell does your father's visiting you have to do with me?"

"He told me I shouldn't trust Jasper, but he wouldn't tell me why."

"And how's that my issue?"

She snorted, shaking her head, her blond, salon-styled waves cascading over her Burberry-covered shoulders.

"They say 'Once a cheater, always a cheater, right?"

My heart raced. "Yes, I've heard that," I nodded slowly and shrugged, "though again, what does any of that have to do with me?"

"Just tell me if he's been to see you, Bella?"

"First of all, I don't have to just tell you a damn thing. If you have questions about Jasper's whereabouts when he's out of your sight, ask him."

She shook her head from side to side, her top lip curling into a snarl. "You know what? Never mind. I forgot what a bitter bitch you are. No. Jasper wouldn't come to you." She pointed a well-manicured finger at me. "He wouldn't do that to me," she stressed, pointing the finger back at herself. "My father and my brother hate him, and they're trying to turn me against him by making vague suggestions and accusations. The fact that they won't give me details is proof that they're lying. The fact that my brother won't even-"

"Alice, I have no fucking clue nor interest in what you're talking about. I don't know your father or brother or anything about them. You never shared much about yourself beyond basics, did you?" I snorted. "I have no idea why a discussion with your father and your brother would lead you to my door."

My temples pounded - abruptly, all of a sudden; like two violent, inner thuds so acute they threatened to double me over. The blows were like savage, primordial attempts to jolt my brain, to bring every thought, every memory, both conscious and subconscious, to the surface.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right," Alice sneered, thankfully unaware of my sudden disorientation. "There was no point in my coming here and involving you in our lives as if Jasper would ever come to you, as if he'd ever want you back."

Some part of me wanted to goad her, to hurt her, to cause her even a fraction of the mental anguish she'd caused me by telling her that Jasper actually had come around – twice.

But the bigger part of me wanted her gone because with every passing second the throbbing in my head grew in intensity, became more brutal as a feeling of dread washed over me. It wrapped itself around my heart, threatened to choke me with its dizzying notion. Nausea settled like a brick in the pit of my stomach. Fight or flight took over.

"Then, if there was no point, go back home to your family and leave me alone."

Initial directions and plans forgotten, I turned back toward the elevator, which was thankfully waiting. But as I opened the door, my heart crashed against my ribcage and rose to my throat; it cut off my breaths. Even as I turned back toward Alice, even as I chose fight instead of flight, I knew I'd regret it with every successive breath.

"And tell your father and your brother…"

Alice held the vestibule door open, almost through it. At the sound of my voice, she instinctively stopped and turned, poised by the door as she took me in over her shoulder.

I swallowed. "…your brother…Edward, right?"

A lifetime transpired before she replied – a lifetime…or a fraction of a second.

"Yeah?"

My grip on the elevator door helped maintain my balance; kept my legs from folding. When I spoke, my voice was even and steady.

"Tell your father, your brother, your mother, Jasper, yourself, your kid, basically anyone and everyone by the name of Hale or Cullen to stay the fuck away from me because the next time any of you come near me, I will call the cops, and we'll all deal with the consequences."

For one long moment, Alice glared at me. Then, with no acknowledgment one way or another, she walked through the vestibule door and out of my building. When she was no longer within sight, I walked into the elevator and waited for the door to close.

When it did, all my breath left me, and I sank to the floor.

A/N: Uhm…okay. Thoughts?

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