Chapter 8: August 2010 Part 3.

A/N: Firstly, a huge thanks to everyone who has been reading, and especially to those who have reviewed. It breaks my heart that so many of you can relate to Bella's situation. But the fact that you've all spoken in past tense gives me hope. No one ever deserves to be made to feel they are nothing, especially by the person who has promised to love you above all others. If you are in an abusive relationship, you do not deserve it, and you do not have to put up with it. Please, please seek help!

Secondly, please be advised, this chapter contains guilt-induced, non-romantic sex.

Thirdly, whilst I have visited Vancouver, I'm claiming artistic license for anything I get wrong ;)

And finally, this is the last August '10 chapter. I don't want the story to seem like it's dragging, but I needed to establish the characters. The next few chapters will take us forward in time at a faster rate.

I sleep for a few hours, and then, all too quickly, I'm on the road back to Portland. I'm scared of the reaction I'm going to receive from Jacob, and I'm still dead tired from having stayed up the entire night. I can deal with the tiredness though, there's no amount of sleep I would trade for the evening I got to spend hanging out with Edward. I stop when I pass a Stumptown café, breathing out a sigh of relief that I won't have to force myself to endure subpar coffee just to get a caffeine hit. I jump out of my SUV to grab myself a doppio espresso that I swallow in one mouthful, as well as a pour-over brew of one of their Panama geisha lots.

As I drive, sipping on the gloriously aromatic coffee, I practice what I ought to say to Jacob in my head. I decide I need to be firm, tell him that if he can't control what he says when he's drunk, that maybe he ought not go out drinking. I need to tell him that he's hurt me and betrayed me by sharing such intimate details with his workmates. I need to tell him how much it hurts when he tells me I'm not attractive: that as his wife, I ought to be his standard of beauty, rather than him constantly comparing me to every other woman around.

When I'm half an hour out of Portland, I remember I need to call Jacob's sister, Rachel, to see if their flat in Vancouver is free. The phone only rings a few times before her cheerful voice comes on the line.

"Hi Izzy."

"Hey Rach, how are you?" Jacob's twin sisters Rachel and Rebecca are a few years older than I, so they had already moved away to college when I first came to Forks. However, we've spent enough family holidays together that Rachel and I have established a reasonably cordial relationship. Rebecca is much more reserved, and I get the feeling she's never really approved of my relationship with Jake.

"I'm good sweetie. What's happening?"

"I'm just on my way to Portland. Jake and the boys are working there for a few weeks so I'm going to spend the afternoon and night with him."

"Geez, that sucks Iz – that's a long drive just for an afternoon. How long are they away for?"

"Um, probably three weeks, but possibly up to a month."

"Are you going to be okay home by yourself all that time?"

"Yeah, that's partly why I'm calling. I was wondering if your flat in Vancouver is free? It's still school holidays so I was thinking of spending the week up there, rather than sit around at home by myself."

"Ah, yeah it is actually. When were you thinking of going up?"

"Well, if it's possible, I'd like to drive up tomorrow, and I'll probably head back down to Forks on Friday. Then I'll be heading back to Portland for the weekend."

"Yeah, that's fine babe. Do you still have a copy of the key?"

"Yeah, I do." Jacob and I spent our honeymoon at Rachel's flat in Vancouver, and the key is still attached to my car keys.

"Cool, well, you know, help yourself, have fun and all that."

"Thanks Rach. How are you going?"

"Eh, can't complain too much. Though I broke up with Brady a few weeks ago. Stupid bastard thought it'd be okay to sleep with other women whilst he was seeing me. I'll tell you what Isabella; you're so lucky to have a good man like Jacob. They're few and far between. I know Jake's not perfect, but he'll never cheat on you, so don't you take him for granted."

"I know Rach."

"I'm serious Izzy. You do what you have to do to keep my brother happy, okay?"

"I do my best Rachel."

"Good girl. Okay, I gotta run honey, but enjoy your time in Vancouver, okay?"

"Sure. And thanks again."

As Rachel hangs up, I feel all my carefully mustered up bravado drain away. Guilt starts to creep in in its place. Rachel's right; Jacob is a good man. He'd never cheat on me. It's a particularly painful subject for the Black's; their mom left their dad for another man when they were teenagers. Rachel's forced nonchalance about Brady's unfaithfulness is merely a cover for the hurt she must be feeling, and is also the reason behind her stern warning to me to hold on to Jacob.

Suddenly, I feel sickened by all my blustering and planning for how I'm going to set Jacob in his place when I reach Portland. I should be thankful I'm married to a man I can trust to spend a few weeks in another town and know with certainty that he'll continue to be faithful to me. I'm ashamed of my self-centredness and selfishness. If Jacob doesn't find me attractive, then maybe it's because I'm not. Maybe I need to take more care with my appearance, maybe I do need to lose a few pounds. It can't be easy for Jacob to be having to work long hours and be stuck in the city a long way from where he considers home. I resolve to show him how much I appreciate the hard work he puts in so he can give us security for the future.

By the time I'm close to the house the boys are renting in Portland, it's nearly lunchtime, so I stop at the grocery store to pick up some food. The chances are that they'll all just be beginning to crawl out of bed, nursing massive hangovers, so I grab all the ingredients I'll need to fix them fried chicken.

I arrive back at the house, and as I carry the bags from the grocery store inside, I notice that the lawn really needs to be mowed. As I predicted, most of the boys are all still in bed, though I find Jacob in the kitchen brewing coffee. He greets me with a slight look of surprise and a soft kiss, and groans in appreciation when he figures out what I'm preparing for their lunch. As the smell of cooking fills the house, first Embry, then the rest of the guys, drag themselves into the kitchen. Two women I don't recognise also appear, and watching them discreetly, I gather that the blonde came home with Jared last night, though I'm not sure about the tiny dark-haired girl.

I shoot Jacob a look when the girl saunters past me and wraps her arms around Sam's waist. Jake shakes his head at me, his mouth set in a grim line, and I know that he is pissed off. Sam's wife Emily is at home in Forks, six months pregnant with their second child. I focus on my what cooking, rather than the disgust that's churning in my stomach. Rachel couldn't have been more right, Jacob would never cheat on me, and he'd certainly never parade it around in front of his mates so brazenly. Poor Emily, busy at home with their daughter and another baby on the way, whilst her husband screws around in another city.

I fry the chicken in batches, and quickly throw together a few different salads. Embry grabs plates, glasses and cutlery and sets the table, winking at me as he does so. When I finally place the fried chicken and salads on the table, talk ceases, and soon the only noises are the sounds of chewing and hums of appreciation.

When the boys' appetites are sated, conversation slowly begins again. Embry asks me a bit about my time in Seattle, and I ask how things are going at the construction site. Their chatter is lively, and they rag on each other constantly. The two girls don't seem to take too kindly to being excluded from the conversation; both throw me contemptuous glances, but it's the blonde one, who I think is named Kimmy, who speaks up first.

"So, Elizabeth, is it? I can't believe you cooked this chicken yourself. That's so, like, domestic, of you."

"It's Isabella, and yes, I suppose it is. But I don't think the boys mind too much though, do you?"

Jacob laughs at my response, slinging his arm across my shoulder.

"Izzy's very domestic, aren't you babe? Not only can she cook, but she can clean, and she sews and knits." He smirks at the girls and they giggle in response.

"Aw, what a good little housewife," coos the dark-haired girl. I'm not sure, but I think her name is Claire. Jacob merely chuckles in response.

I'm feeling a little wary. I'm not stupid, and I know these girls are making fun of me; I get that they clearly consider me inferior, and find the fact that I can keep house pathetic. What I'm uncertain about is Jacob's responses; I can't tell if he's poking fun at me or defending me.

I stay in my seat whilst Jacob and Embry start stacking the dishes and taking them back into the kitchen to load the dishwasher. Kimmy and Claire giggle and whisper together, occasionally shooting glances at me. When Jacob comes back to gather the glasses, Claire smirks at me, before following him into the kitchen. I ignore Kimmy's snickers as I gather up the salad bowls and follow after my husband.

As I'm about to walk into the kitchen, I hear Jacob's voice and I pause. I recognise his tone immediately; he's annoyed, really annoyed.

"Look, Claire," he says harshly. "I am aware Izzy's not beautiful, nor does she have a bangin' body, and that she's not the most fun person to spend time with. But she is my wife. And, unlike Sam, I. Do. Not. Cheat. So fuck off, and leave me alone. I won't ask you again."

I continue into the kitchen, my heart pounding in my chest. Claire flounces past me, pouting, but refusing to look me in the eye. I shake my head in disgust. It's obvious she intended for me to hear her attempt to seduce Jacob, probably assuming he'd be flattered when offered the choice between her and my boring, 'domestic' self. The fact that Jake turned her down ought to comfort me, reassure me, but his dismissive words about my shortcomings leave a bitter taste in my mouth.

I place the bowls down on the counter with a clatter, and Jacob looks up from the dishwasher, startled. He quickly looks past me, then back into my face, and I realise he's wondering how much I heard.

"I heard all of it Jake. They made it pretty clear what they were trying to prove."

"You know I'll never cheat on you, right, Izzy?"

"Of course, Jacob." He smiles at my assurance and sidles up beside me.

"I've missed you," His breath is hot and humid on my neck. "Come on."

Jacob grabs my hand and starts pulling me upstairs towards the bedroom we share in the house. I open my mouth to protest when I realise what he's got in mind.

"We can't, Jake! Everyone's in the house. They might hear!"

"We'll be quiet, babe. Fuck Iz, it's been over a week. I need the release. I mean, come on, babe. I've just proved I'm faithful even when easy sluts proposition me, don't I deserve to have sex with my wife?"

I acquiesce, feeling guilty immediately. Jacob's right, I need to fulfil my wifely duty, he does deserve that of me. When we reach the bedroom, Jacob locks the door and starts stripping down. I follow suit quickly, still feeling the sting of guilt. It's only when Jacob suddenly grabs my arm that I remember that Edward's name is still emblazoned on to my skin.

"What the fuck, Izzy?" Before I can explain, Jacob is laughing.

"Did you write his name on your arm?"

"No. No! I didn't. Edward autographed me. I'm sorry, I didn't think." I quickly explain that I met Edward and that we spent some time chatting whilst I was in Seattle.

Jacob cuts me off quickly,

"Babe, it's fine, I don't care. It's not like you got him to sign your tits or something!"

I flush, mortified by the very suggestion.

"Of course I didn't. Jake, I'm sorry, I -"

Again, he cuts off my explanation, this time by pushing his hot, wet mouth against my own. He's pawing at my breasts, grappling with my bra straps, whilst shoving his tongue into my mouth. His large hands are everywhere, kneading and pulling at me, and he pushes me down on to the bed. My mind frantically searches for an arousing image, knowing that if I can't make my body respond, this could be a painful experience.

Jacob quickly reaches for some lubricant, before pushing his way inside me. I try to enjoy it, try to tell myself I should feel empowered by his neediness and his desperation for my body, but it's hard to get past the stinging sensation. I close my eyes, trying to conjure up something, anything, which will cause my body respond to his, as Jacob's thrusts increase in speed. Concentrating fiercely, I feel a vague wisp of heat start to curl within me; I struggle to cling to it, struggle to let the feeling build, but all too quickly, Jacob is shouting and panting.

"Yes, Izzy. Yes, Fuck! I'm coming, fuck yes!"

I watch, disappointed and embittered, as his face twists and contorts with his release. He shudders and shakes, before his eyes open and he smirks down at me lazily. He pulls himself away from me, disconnecting our bodies, and walks into the bathroom to clean himself up. When he re-enters the room, I'm still lying on the bed. He quickly throws his clothes back on, winking at me before he leaves the room.

I lay still on the bed, listening for any fuss as he re-enters the kitchen, and I breathe a sigh of relief when there is no increase to the level of murmuring I can make out from up here. I hop up, gingerly making my way into the en suite. I decide to shower, since I hadn't had time to before I left Seattle. The hot water is soothing, and I grab up the special soap Jacob uses to remove grease from his hands when he's been playing with engine parts. It makes quick work of Edward's autograph, and I feel a slight pang as I look down at my now clean arm.

I grab my body-wash and apply the lather to the rest of my body, wincing slightly as the bubbles drip downwards. There's a slight stinging that hasn't abated and I realise I must have torn ever so slightly. It's not the first time and it won't be the last, and I'm feeling relieved I'll be in Vancouver for the week. At least that way I can heal properly before Jacob gets frustrated with my reluctance to be intimate with him. I wonder vaguely how women manage to have sex as frequently as I'm lead to believe; maybe I'm doing something wrong. I wish futilely that I had someone I could ask about such things.

When I am dried and redressed, I decide I really need another nap after my virtually sleepless night. I retrieve my phone, intending to use it to set an alarm, and I smile when I see I have a text from Edward.

From Edward Cullen:
Drive safely Bella. Have fun in Portland. Let me know when you arrive in Van. E x

I smile as I respond to his text.

From Bella Black:
I'm safe in Portland. Leaving for Van 2moro morning. B x

I plug my phone into its charger, pull the covers over myself and quickly drift off into a restful sleep.

When I awake two hours later, it's to find Jacob sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Hey babe," he smiles as I open my bleary eyes.

"Hi," I rasp, my voice thick with sleep. I sit up, trying to orient myself. I think it's late afternoon, but I could be wrong.

"What time is it?" I wonder aloud.

"Ah, it's about 4:30." Jake replies. He pulls the covers off the bed and extends his hand to me.

"I love you, Izzy."

"I love you too Jake."

He pulls me into a hug, and I realise this is his apology for last weekend's drunkenness. Jacob doesn't ever verbalise his apologies, and I have to be content with what he does offer me instead.

"You don't mind cooking dinner for everyone do you, babe?"

"No, that's fine Jake. I'll just have run into town and grab some more groceries."

When we head downstairs, I'm relieved to see Kimmy and Claire have left. Jacob is still visibly furious with Sam, but is keeping his mouth shut. I assume he's trying to respect his boss, and I follow his lead, though there is a large part of me that wants to let him know exactly how disgusted I am by his actions.

Instead, I climb into my SUV and head off to procure the groceries I'll need for this evening's meal, as well as enough food to stock the pantry for the next week.

I'm on the road to Vancouver by lunchtime on Monday. I plan to leave earlier, but Jacob asks me to mow the lawn, and clean the bathrooms and kitchen, before I leave. I'm slightly annoyed, until Jacob points out that I'm flitting around the Northwest on my holidays, whilst they're all working six-day weeks. Feeling slightly ashamed of my selfishness, I bite my tongue on my objections and set to work.

It's about a six-hour drive from Portland to Vancouver; depending on how many breaks I take. Fortunately, I really enjoy long drives; I enjoy the quiet, the opportunity to think, and in this case, the opportunity to surround myself with music that makes my soul soar. I set my iPod to shuffle, and my car is filled with the various voices that keep me company along the way. My mind keeps trying to return to my dissatisfaction with my marriage, but I firmly push the thought away each time, refusing to indulge that selfish, discontented side of myself.

When I reach Vancouver it's already after 7pm, and I stop quickly for groceries, before making my way to Rachel's flat, which is across the Burrard Inlet, in North Vancouver. When I arrive I open the place up, letting some fresh air in, before texting Edward. He calls me back almost immediately, telling me he's got to do a few radio interviews and performances early tomorrow morning, and then he has sound check for tomorrow night's gig. He is apologetic and I tell him not to be silly, he has to do his job after all. I tell him I'll stick around after his set tomorrow night, and wish him luck, before we end the call.

I sleep late the next morning, and take my time getting ready for the day. I eventually wander down toward the harbour to enjoy coffee and an early lunch at a little café. I spend a few pleasant hours exploring the north shore before I decide to take the Seabus across to the Downtown area. I spend a few more hours wandering around downtown, stopping occasionally for a coffee, or to just sit and watch people going about their day.

Edward's playing at a venue on Granville Island, and when the afternoon starts to fade; I jump on a bus that will take me down there. Whilst the bus is making its way down Granville St, I'm surprised to receive a text from Edward.

From Edward Cullen:
Just about to start sound-check. Leah wonders if you want to meet her at the GI brewery?

I respond quickly, grateful for some company.

From Bella Black:
I'm on a bus to Granville Island. Tell her I'll be there in about 10. B x

From Edward Cullen:
She'll meet you there. I gave her your no. Hope that's ok. P.S. Pick a song, any song, for me to play for you 2nite.

My fingers hover over the keypad as I contemplate his request. About forty thousand different ideas all tumble into my head at once. I contemplate making a ridiculous request just to make him laugh, but decide I can't squander the gift he's giving me like that. Inspiration hits and I quickly respond.

From Bella Black:
Is a cover okay? How about Bob Dylan's 'A Simple Twist of Fate'?

It only takes Edward a few seconds to respond.

From Edward Cullen:
Perfect.

Leah is waiting for me when I reach the Granville Island Brewery. We share a tasting paddle, sampling the different beers and chatting like old friends. It's simple, surface level conversation, but it flows easily. We agree that we favour the Kitsilano Maple Cream Ale, and end up drinking several more glasses of it, before we decide it's time to wander back to watch Edward's set at the lounge he's playing in.

Edward is already on stage when we make our way in, still giggling, He looks up from where he is tuning his guitar, and I can see him smirk and roll his eyes at us as we stumble in. We find ourselves somewhere to sit, though Leah bounces off almost immediately, declaring she needs chips - it takes me a moment to realize she means fries.

Edward starts to play, and I'm immediately captivated; his voice is sin and silk, honey and grit*. His hands move skillfully across the strings of his guitar and time loses all meaning for me. At some point Leah returns with a basket of fries, and I shush her when she tries to make conversation. This is the fourth time I've seen Edward on stage, and each time he brings something different to the performance. He has the crowd captivated, and cheerfully takes a few requests; though when someone calls out for him to play Walking Home, he shakes his head and tells the girl "not tonight, sorry".

All too quickly, he's wrapping up his set.

"Uh, thanks for being such a great crowd tonight. It's great being back in Canada," he grins.

"I'm playing here again on Thursday, so bring some friends and come back then. Okay then, uh, this last one is for my friend, Bella." He sends a wink in my direction before he begins to play the Dylan tune I requested. As I had expected, he makes the tune his own, though he does manage a hilarious Dylan impersonation for the first verse. He brings the song to a close, thanking the crowd once again before he disappears through the curtains at the back of the stage.

"He'll be back out in about fifteen minutes," Leah observes.

"He'll sign shit for about an hour, and then I'm sure he'll come looking for you."

"Uh, okay then."

Leah looks at me appraisingly before she speaks again.

"I'm going to take off, darling. I'll see you later, okay?" She blows a kiss in my direction before sauntering out of the club, leaving me slightly stunned, and a little lost.

I watch Edward re-emerge from backstage, only to be immediately swamped by his adoring fans. I wonder briefly at the flash of annoyance I feel; but I suppress it instantly. If I'm going to be friends with Edward, I'm going have to get used to the fact that I'm not his only fan.

As it happens, it's only forty-five minutes before Edward signs the last autograph, and his eyes start to scan the room. When he spots me, his green eyes light up, and he immediately begins to make his way toward me. He greets me with a kiss on the cheek and a gentle squeeze of my hand.

We exchange greetings, briefly catching up on the last few days, before we are interrupted by Edward's phone chiming at him. He reads a text message quickly, before cocking his head at me uncertainly.

"That was Lee. Some of my friends are in town, and they want to know if we want to go meet them for a few drinks. I completely understand if you don't want to, but I'd love to introduce you to them all."

"Really? Are you sure? I mean, you only just met me ..? I'm fine with just heading back to my flat if you want to go spend time with your friends." I say, staring at my hands. I'm nervous about meeting Edward's friends, and I'm not sure about tagging along if I'm not exactly invited.

Edward gently puts a finger under my chin and tilts my face to force me look up at him. He frowns at me, his green eyes showing concern.

"I'd love for you to come, dearest." He looks away, and scrubs at his beard. "I know it's weird, I know we only just met, but I dunno, I feel like I've known you for ages, yeah? I already consider you a good friend, darling. And I'd love you to meet some more of the people who are important to me." He trails off, looking unsure of himself, and I feel bad for making him worry.

"Okay then."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I feel the same Edward, like we've known each other for ages, even though we don't know a lot about each other. So, sure, I'd love to meet your friends. I have to warn you though, I tend to get overwhelmed in unfamiliar social situations, so I'll probably spend a lot of time blushing and stammering and generally freaking out."

"Don't worry Bella, I won't leave your side all night if it will make it easier for you. They can seem a bit intimidating, and they're all slightly mental, but they're good people, you'll see."

Half an hour later, Edward and I are stepping out of a cab in front of a palatial looking hotel. Shit. Why didn't I make that connection about Edward's 'friends'? All too soon, I'm being ushered into a stunning penthouse suite, the plush fittings of which are oddly contrasted by the loud, brash conversations being had in predominantly British accents. Edward introduces me to a few people, and I'm greeted with easy familiarity. Someone shoves a beer into my hands at some point. It's a little overwhelming to be honest, and I forget most people's names as soon as they introduce themselves.

Edward's gentle touch on the small of my back suddenly disappears as the largest man I have ever seen envelops him in a hug.

"Emmett!" Edward pounds on the giant's back and the big guy merely grins in response.

"Aren't you supposed to be shooting?" Edward asks, still looking shocked from having the breath squeezed out of him.

"Aye, but some of the lads in the, uh, actually I dunno which department they're in … anyway, someone is pitching a fit about something so we've been delayed by about a week. And as Lee-lee told us you were playing up here this week, we thought we'd take the chance to visit."

I take advantage of their discussion to study the big guy, who I assume to be Emmett McCarty. He's huge, obviously, built like a wrestler, but his enormous muscles are contrasted by his sweet, dimpled smile. His dark hair is cropped close to his head, and his blue eyes sparkle with mischief. I'll admit, I can almost see why the guy has insane fans following him everywhere; he's certainly very good looking.

"You must be Bella." A softer Scottish accent startles me, and I whirl around to see a tall, blonde woman appraising me. She's easily the most stunning woman I've ever laid eyes on. She has the jealousy-inducing figure of a swimsuit model, her long blonde hair cascades in waves down her back, and her eyes are a shocking violet.

"Yes, I am." I extend my hand to her, and she looks at it disdainfully. Surprising the hell out of me, she pulls me into a tight embrace. Suddenly, I remember my conversation with Edward from a few days prior.

"You're Rosalie, right? Wait! I've seen you in a film!" I say excitedly, "You were in that biopic of Robbie Burns, yes?"

Rosalie looks at me, startled, and I begin to think I've made a mistake. My chagrin must show on my face, and she is quick to reassure me.

"Yes, I was. I'm sorry; you just took me by surprise, dearest. I was just surprised anyone outside o' Scotland had seen it; especially a young American lass like yourself."

"Are you kidding me? Burns is one of my favourite poets!"

I suddenly realise the room has gone silent. I look over at Edward, and he quirks an eyebrow at me.

"Welsh and Scottish poetry, Bella?"

"Irish also; I love Yeats." I tease, and Edward snorts with amusement.

"Well that's just brilliant," inserts Leah, who, I hadn't noticed previously, is sitting across the room in the lap of a lanky blonde guy. His name may or may not have been Alec.

"She had absolutely no idea who Em was, but she recognises Rose from some obscure indie film." I blush at Leah's revelation, but the giant just grins at me, his dimples evident in his amusement.

Edward takes the opportunity to introduce me properly to Rosalie and Emmett, explaining to me that they all shared a flat together when Edward first moved to London.

Just like that, this crazy group of Scots and Brits immediately accept me. Edward, true to his word, lingers by my side, introducing me to the people I've not yet met, and checking I'm not feeling too overwhelmed.

By 2am, Rosalie and I well acquainted and are chattering about the advantages of marrying young. I'm tipsy from consuming all the beers and whiskey shots people keep pressing on me, and the result is that I'm being more honest than I usually would be, even with myself.

"You know what's sad, though?" I say, looking at Rosalie with all the seriousness that can only be mustered by someone who's had a few too many shots of whiskey.

"I'm nearly 24 and I'll never get to feel that fluttery feeling of falling in love again. Those tingles of realising you're attracted someone, and the overwhelming feeling when you realise they return your affections."

"You don't have butterflies anymore?" Rosalie looks surprised, and her almost-purple eyes struggle to focus on me through all the beer and whiskey she's consumed.

"You don't get them when he comes home early from work with a dozen roses, just because? Or when he ignores every other woman in the room because he's so entranced by you? Or when he can't keep his hands off you and you end up having crazy hot sex in a public place and he makes you climax so many times you think you won't be able to take any more?"

I blink at her.

"Uh, I can't say I've ever experienced any of those things. Jake says flowers are a waste of money because they'll just die in a few days anyway. And anyway, I'm anorgasmic." I shrug. I know I ought not be having this conversation with someone I met a few hours ago, but right now I'm too drunk to care.

"No way." Rosalie breathes. "Is that what he tells you, you poor lass?"

"Who tells me what?" I wonder, yawning hugely.

Edward, seeing me yawn, decides it's time to take me home. I agree cheerfully, though it's quite possible I'd agree to just about anything right now. He rides with me in the cab, despite my protests that heading over to the north shore is clearly going out of his way. When we arrive at Rachel's flat, Edward sees me safely inside, reminds me to message him when I wake up, and brushes a gentle kiss on my cheek before he wishes me a soft goodnight.

I slide into bed fully clothed, and I'm asleep before I even manage to pull the covers over myself.

I struggled a bit with keeping this chapter flowing, but rather than spending ages fiddling around with it, I thought I'd post it and keep moving forward. As I've mentioned, the next few chapters will move us forward in time a bit faster.

* I didn't come up with that. I borrowed it from a review regarding another British singer/songwriter whom I absolutely adore.