-Chapter 10-

Chicago, 2012

"I met Edward for coffee last week." Rose drops her fork and I lean over the table to grab her water before she has a chance to repeat her last performance. "You know, you really need to get your reflexes figured out."

"You did what?" There's an equal amount of irritation and astonishment in her voice. Thankfully, I'd prepared myself for her reaction before even leaving for our lunch date.

"I met Edward for coffee. He wanted a chance to explain some things to me, and I wanted a chance to pick his brain about life after Bella." I shrug. "It was nothing, Rose. It meant nothing."

"I've been your best friend for years, Swan. I know when you're lying and right now, it's a good thing you're not Pinocchio, because your nose would have poked my eye out already."

I roll my eyes and dig into my pasta. "It really wasn't a big deal. We drank coffee, he told me about his life over the last ten years, and then we went our separate ways."

"What was there to tell you about? The accommodations at various rehab facilities in the Midwest?" Rose is a fiercely loyal friend—and a fierce bitch when she feels like one of her friends might need protecting.

"Ha ha, very funny. We talked about his time in rehab, yes, but we spent more time discussing his art and why he's in Chicago."

Rose stares at me for a beat, and then goes back to her salad. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, Bella. It's not like this is some new guy you met on Match that you're infatuated with. This is the one man who has the power to completely wreck you, and he's already done that once."

"I'm well-aware of that sweetie, and please don't blow this out of proportion. We had coffee, we caught up a little, and that was that." I stab a piece of cavatappi with my fork. I can feel my friend's stare, but I refuse to look at her. I have no interest in receiving a lecture today, regardless of how well intentioned it may be.

Rose pushes her plate away and takes her water back. When I look up at her, she has her fingers steepled beneath her chin and her eyes have softened. "I would never want to trade in my best friend role. Ever. But it's so hard sometimes. Like when I had to sit on the sidelines and watch you get your heart broken repeatedly by the same guy." She slides one hand across the table and covers mine with it. "We're adults now, and I know this. We were technically adults back then, although sometimes I wonder if we really grasped that concept. In any case, you can make your own choices and you'll be the one to deal with the consequences of those choices. Just … please don't let any sweet nothings he might whisper drown out everything that he did before. He treated you awfully, Bell, and I know it's in the past. I know everyone always preaches about the importance of forgiveness, but please don't forget what happened."

I squeeze Rose's hand and smile. "I love you for sitting on the sidelines. I had to learn those lessons for myself, but don't you ever for one second think I didn't appreciate the support I got from you and Kate. And as far as forgetting goes, I could never forget all the bad things that happened. But if I'm being honest, after talking to Edward and reading some letters he wrote to me during rehab, it makes the blow from all the bad things just a little bit less intense."

Our mushy moment ends, and we get back to our lunch. Just when I think we're about finished, Rose orders a dessert and settles down further in her chair. I raise an eyebrow and she smiles mischievously. "All right, Swan, let's hear the details about this chat. I'm sure you're dying to spill the beans."

This is precisely why I love my best friend.

.

.

.

I spend the next hour telling Rose all about Edward's letters and the things he shared with me during our chat over coffee. She's just as shocked as I was to learn that Kate had something to do with his recovery. I make myself a promise then, that if I ever see my old friend again, I'll be nothing less than gracious for what she did to help him.

We wrap up lunch, so Rose can get back to work. I have the day off and plenty of errands to run, but I find my feet carrying me in the opposite direction than I need to go. Before I know it, I'm standing in front of the building that houses Edward's studio. I have no idea what I'm doing here, but I creak the door open and step inside anyhow.

I wander through the halls until I find the space with his name next to it. The heavy door is already ajar, and I can tell Edward is in here. I poke my head in and look around. Loud music fills the air and all the windows on the far side of the room are open, letting the fall breeze waft around the space. Edward has a large canvas stretched over one of the walls, and that's what he's working on. I slide the door open enough to step inside and then close it most of the way again. I'm a few feet away from him when Edward turns around.

"Jesus Christ—Bella! Wow, you're here!" He drops his palette on an overturned milk crate and turns down the music. His hands and the front of his jeans are streaked with paint. He has the top four buttons open on his shirt and part of his chest peeks out. I used to think there was no way Edward could get any more attractive than he already was, but age has done wonders for him.

"I'm sorry I startled you. I was in the area and thought I'd stop by…" my words trail off and I look down at my hands. Edward grabs a towel and wipes his fingers, then strides over to the mini fridge across the room. He comes back with two Cokes and hands me one.

"It's okay. It's a nice surprise." He takes a pull from his soda and I can't take my eyes off him. My eyes follow the sharp lines of his jaw to his neck where his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. I bring my own bottle to my lips just as his eyes find mine. A smirk spreads across his face and I feel my cheeks warm.

"What are you working on?" I ask, hoping to hide my embarrassment over being caught ogling him.

"It's a watercolor rendition of The Bean," he explains. "There's a new PR film opening in Lincoln Park and they commissioned me to paint it. I'm not sure I like how it's coming together so far, however."

"I love it," I tell him with sincerity. I step closer to the canvas and point to an area with many bright colors. "I love the excitement you've created in this area, just by using the colors you did. I know you aren't finished yet, but looking at this the way it is now reminds me of the picture-perfect summer day in Chicago. Blue skies, sunlight, food vendors, and tour bus ticket sellers running all over, while tourists try to navigate their way around and natives curse them under their breath. It's all here, in just this one part of the canvas."

He looks at the canvas again and shakes his head. "I can't see it. But, I'll take your word for it." He motions to a small table he has set up in the corner of the room. "I don't have any real furniture in here, because it's always just me, but you're welcome to camp out there for a bit if you'd like."

I take another sip of Coke and look around the room. There's an open space against the wall, just below one of the windows, with a perfect view of the canvas. "Mind if I sit over there?" I point and Edward shrugs in response. I drop my purse to the floor and sink down, sitting crisscross-applesauce style on the concrete floor.

Edward picks his palette up once more and starts working on the same section of the canvas I just referenced. "So, were you really in the neighborhood, or is there a purpose to your visit? I'm not complaining either way, I just wanted to ask."

I look down at my bottle and blurt out the first words that come to mind. "I'm divorced." The paintbrush stops moving and Edward slowly turns around to face me.

"Okay?" The confusion in his tone matches the expression on his face, so I continue quickly.

"You shared your last ten years with me over coffee, so I thought it would be nice to share my last ten with you as well."

A small smile plays on his lips and he turns back to the painting, brush strokes resuming. "I'm all ears."

"When you didn't show up for my major project showing, I wasn't just angry, I was mortified. It was so embarrassing for me. I always had my shit together, my ducks lined up perfectly in a row, and to have all that ruined because of poor decisions on your behalf, well, it was awful. When I went to Mrs. Cope, I was honest about everything—including your addiction." Edward's hand stops moving and his shoulders bristle. "I'm lucky that she had as much respect for me as she did, because I think that's the only reason she gave me a second chance. Well, that and because she knew I had no control over the things you chose to do.

"I had a meeting with Mrs. Cope the morning I saw you outside of her office. There was an internship opportunity at a gallery in Nashville, and she got me an interview with the gallery owner. I didn't have to think twice about the opportunity. I knew if they took me, I'd leave in a heartbeat given everything that had just happened between us." I close my eyes and think back to the day that things ended between us. "I was so mad at you, but I felt more hurt than anything. When I saw you in the hallway, part of me wanted to fling myself into your arms and the other part wanted to punch you. I probably should have at least heard you out, since I hadn't taken any of your calls up to that point, but I just couldn't. I needed to get away from you, so I could start fresh. I knew if I gave you any time, even just a few minutes, I'd lose all the momentum I'd built up and fall right back into the roller coaster we were on. So, I shut down your attempts to apologize and I got away from you as quickly as I could.

"I had the interview for the internship and the gallery owner offered it to me right there on the phone. We graduated, I filled my Nissan with as much as I could fit inside of it, and then I left for Nashville and told myself I'd never look back."

"Nashville?" Edward stops painting and turns around, and I'm surprised when he laughs. "I'm sorry, I'm not making light of things, I just can't see you in the south. You're not exactly the spurs and ten-gallon hat kind of gal."

I can't help but laugh myself. "No, no I'm not. But the longer I was there, the more I fell in love with the city—especially the music scene. I used to frequent a few clubs down on Broadway, and that's where I met Ben. He played guitar in a local band at night, was an accountant by day, and we hit it off right away. He was the opposite of you, in all these ways. He was blonde hair and brown eyes, only a few inches taller than me, and about as straight laced as they come. I threw myself head first into a relationship with him hoping that he could chase away your memory and stitch up the gaping scar you'd left on my heart. It didn't quite work that way, however."

Edward continues painting, but I can tell he's hanging on every word I say "Things seemed to go well for me in Tennessee. Ben and I spent almost all our spare time together and my internship turned into a full-time position at the gallery. A year after we started dating, Ben proposed, and I said yes. We got married six months later and all was right in the world. Ben was a great man, don't get me wrong, he gave me everything and loved me with his all, but I could never stop comparing him to you. You were constantly there, in the back of my mind, and no matter how many wonderful things Ben did for me, he just wasn't you, Edward."

He stops painting and sets his palette down once more. When he turns to face me, my heart jumps in my throat. His eyes are red, and his cheeks are damp with fresh tears.

"Ben and I stayed together," I continue. "We got a house in Brentwood and adopted a dog from a rescue group. We tried to be the couple everyone envied, but the longer things went on, the more unhinged they became. Eventually, we started fighting about everything, from the color of the walls in our dining room to whether we could afford a trip up to Minneapolis to see my mom for Christmas or not. Ben was a fixer, and he would always try to mend things between us, but I'd just push him away. We kept this back and forth, push-pull stuff up for eight years and then he finally asked for a divorce."

"God, Bella, I'm so sorry."

I shrug. "Honestly, it was for the best. I should never have agreed to marry him in the first place, because I was doing it for all the wrong reasons."

He nods and bites down on his lip. "So, you came here after the divorce was final?"

"I did," I tell him. "Rose came to Chicago a few years after graduation, to get her MBA. She met her husband and they settled down here. I wanted to go someplace where I knew at least one person, and she was always talking about how amazing the city is. So, I lined up a job at Alice and Jasper's gallery, got an apartment, and came hauling back to the Midwest. That was six months ago."

His eyes widen. "Only six months? I thought you'd been here longer than me for sure."

I shake my head. "Nope. I'm the newbie of this duo."

Edward grabs his brush and squirts some fresh paint onto his palette. "Thank you for sharing all of that with me. You know you didn't have to, right? I hope I didn't give you the impression that I was expecting an explanation of some sort."

"I know I didn't have to. I wanted to." I push myself up off the floor and stretch my arms high above my head. "If we're going to be friends again, then I think it's important that we put all of this stuff out in the open. No secrets, you know?"

Edward's lips turn up in a smirk. "Friends, huh? When did you decide this?"

"Sometime between last week and today."

"And you're okay with that?" I can tell he's trying to keep his smirk from morphing into a full-scale grin. The enthusiasm coupled with shyness is cute. "Being friends?"

I nod. "I'm fine with it. I mean, we're in the same city now, and even though it's a big city we both run in the art circle. We're bound to cross paths occasionally, and I'd much rather be on good terms when that happens. Wouldn't you?"

The full-scale grin comes out then, along with a deep laugh. "Absolutely. I'd much rather you smile and say hello than spend your free time locked away with Rose, planning how you're going to kill me."

"Oh, Rose might still come up with ways to inflict bodily harm. I promise I'll encourage her to go easy on you though."

We spend the rest of the afternoon in his studio, him painting away and me watching. Sometimes we talk about random things, but mostly the air is silent.

It's comfortable.

It's friendly.

And it's a lot like old times.