The Twilight Twenty-Five
thetwilight25 dot com
Prompt: # 10
Pen Name: GemmaH
Pairing/Character(s): Edward, Bella
Rating: K
Word Count: 495
Photo prompts can be found here:
thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts
To hell with wishes.
Is it possible to cancel a wish out if you make it more than once? If I hadn't tried so hard and wished that second time when I was sitting at the beach bonfire and the shooting star flashed across the sky, if maybe things would be different by now? Or when the Marks' black cat darted across the street in front of my truck and forced me to slam my foot on the brake to avoid plastering it all over the black top? It definitely had luck on its side.
Do wishing-well wishes take a long time to come to fruition, or do I give up hope? Five years seems an awfully long time to wait.
This isn't an accurate snapshot of me, by the way. I'm not superstitious by nature, but sometimes, when the alternative is to give up all faith, we'll cling to whatever ridiculous sliver of hope we can.
I thought they'd all moved on permanently. That's what I heard around town. I guess I was never going to hear it from the horse's mouth after everything that went on.
And this is the exact reason why, when I spot a familiar figure ahead of me on the main street, I convince myself I'm seeing things. But no, he's instantly recognisable; tall, slim and an unmistakeable shock of bronze hair. He stops, attention caught by something in a store front. I slow down as much as I dare without tripping anyone up or drawing attention to myself. Still, it's not nearly slow enough and just as I consider ducking into the next doorway I come to, he turns to enter the store. To do this he has to face me, and the moment he does, I'm right in his line of vision. He falters, but something about him lights up, as recognition sweeps across his face.
He greets me warmly, making a point of asking how I am, what I've been doing, filling me in on his own life. There's only one thing I want to hear from him, but he avoids it, carefully circumnavigating, the way you might edge carefully around a deep puddle on the sidewalk. In the end I crack and just ask.
"Edward, how's Em?" He just looks at me, and if I wasn't so desperate for any snippet of news, I might regret asking.
"He's good." I can hear the hesitation in his voice and I know there must be more he's not telling me.
"Is he…?"
"He married Rosalie."
He looks like he might say more, but he stops and bites back whatever words were dancing on his lips, waiting to be spoken.
It should have been me, I think. I'm still bitter. I regret never wishing that away.
"It should have been me," he blurts. I don't know, of the two of us, who is more shocked.
"With Rosalie?" I ask. A shake of the head.
"No, Bella. With you."