A/N: Hi! Hope everyone's doing well. Enjoy!

Chapter-10: Swiss Heart

"Talk."

One word from her seems to breathe life back into me. "Bella?" I ask, holding my phone in a tight grip as if by some miracle I'd be able to feel her through it.

She doesn't bother to use any preamble and gets right to the point instead. "You said you were sorry and that you didn't want this to happen," her voice comes through the piece of plastic in my hand. "So speak. Tell me exactly what this is."

"I can't," I whisper, closing my eyes and picturing her face. "Bella, I'm sorry ..."

"Don't," she cuts off my apology. "I don't need an apology. What I need is an explanation."

I start to nod because of course she deserves an explanation. Hell, she deserves to have her life unshadowed by me. She deserves everything that I can't give her. "Phone lines are not really safe," I say, hoping she'll agree to meet me one more time. I'm a masochist, I know, but I couldn't resist the temptation of seeing her beautiful face one last time before I go away from her life for good.

She's quiet for a moment before answering my silent plea, "All right. Where do you want to meet then?"

"Meet me in one of my restaurants? That way you'll have your car with you in case you want to leave." The words feel like they weigh a ton as I speak, but I need her to know that she has a way out if she wants it.

"No," she says. "In somewhere neutral … where no one will know us. Someplace public."

That brings the memories of last night to the forefront of my brain, making my blood boil in anger. "The fair was public, Bella. Do you remember what happened there?"

When she responds, her voice is barely audible. "Maybe it wasn't the place that was dangerous."

She means me! I realize, feeling like I've been sucker punched by those few words. I'm the dangerous one.

"Please, I want somewhere we can talk without being afraid of who might start shooting at us."

"Where then?" I ask.

She's quiet for a moment before answering. "There's a café a block down the road from my home, . Meet me there?"

"Today?"

"Yes," she responds. "I can be there in an hour if you can."

I carefully let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Bella. I'll see you then."

Standing outside Café Grinder, I look through the window. My eyes find my Beauty immediately. Sitting alone in a corner booth, she nurses the cup in front of her. Even though her face is hidden by the book she looks to be reading, the way her shoulders slump forward tells me just how much the events of the night before must have affected her.

Not everyone is used to being shot at, I remind myself, finding another reason why I'm a bad idea for her.

When I enter the café, the tiny bell on top of the door announces my presence, making her look away from her book. I can see the exact moment she senses my presence. Her body stiffens infinitesimally, and I hate myself for bringing her such pain.

"Bella," I say her name softly when I reach her.

"Edward," she greets me, granting me only a fleeting glance before looking down at the closed cover of her book.

For the first moment since I've known her, I feel unsure about myself. "May I?" I ask, motioning to the seat opposite to her.

She nods before signaling one of the busboys to come take my order. Once I'm seated across from her with a warm cup of coffee in my hands, I speak. "Thank you for meeting with me."

She looks at me for a long moment, not responding. Then she asks quietly, "Who are you?"

Dreading her reaction to my words, I say, "I can't tell you."

I anticipated her anger and even frustration in reaction. But because she is my Bella, she catches me by surprise. Sweet sound of her laughter surrounds us, shocking me. It's only when I look at her to find her beautiful eyes brimming with unshed tears that I realize her laughter is for anything but happiness.

Once she's calmed down enough to breath, she says, "I can't tell you how many ways I've tried to justify what happened that night, but nothing seems plausible. So please, Edward, tell me. I need to know."

In silence, I shake my head, denying her what she wants and knowing in my heart that I am ruining the best thing in my life.

"You won't tell me?" she asks in a shocked hiss. "I was fucking shot at, Edward Cullen, just because I want to be with you. I think I deserve to know why."

"I'm sorry," I murmur, feeling like a broken record already with my apologies. "I can't tell you. Please, Bella. Forgive me."

"I don't want your apologies," she answers, the corners of her lips turning downward. "If you weren't going to tell me anything then why did you want to talk?"

Because I did want to tell you all about it, I want to say. But I was reminded of the promise I made to my grandpa. Instead of telling her the truth, I lie … again. "I needed to tell you to move on."

"What?" her breathed out question is like a suppressed roar to me. "Move on?"

Taking a deep breath, I nod. "Yes. I'm not good for you. You don't belong in my world, Bella. Life with me will not be easy. You should stay away from me while you can." I look right into her eyes as I deliver the line I had been practising to say without letting my voice betray me. "You and I should never had met."

The way her face contorts with pain is enough to bring me to my knees. For a second, I wonder if I can leave it all—my life in the family so that I can be with her. I watch as she reaches for the glass of water next to her and … splat!

Blinking away the water from my eyes I see a fuming Bella as she stands facing me, the now empty glass clutched tightly in her hand as she looks down at me. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" she asks through gritted teeth. "You think you can just waltz into my life whenever you want to and then push me away when you feel like it? Why the hell do you get to make all the decisions?"

"Did you really just throw water at me?" I ask dumbly.

"You need to wake the fuck up, Cullen," she says, slamming down the glass on the table. "The world doesn't revolve around you. You don't get to decide anything about my life anymore." She gathers her book and her purse, throwing down a couple dollar bills on the table. "And you know what?" she asks as she steps out of our booth. "Fuck you, Edward Cullen! You wanted me to move on? I am now. This ..." she stops to motion between us before continuing. "... is over."

Without another word to my sorry ass, she turns around and walks toward the exit. As I watch the woman who could have been the one walk out of my life with water dripping from my hair, it feels like a giant Bella-shaped hole has formed in my heart, making it look like a swiss cheese.

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Ann