Author's Note: Thanks again to EKSmith and miaokuancha for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Chapter 9

Thank God I wasn't scheduled to work today, a couple of weeks after Easter. I sleep until noon, not wanting to face the day, before finally crawling out of bed and heading downstairs in my pajamas. It's my usual grocery shopping day, but I don't feel like going out, so I poke around in the pantry and finally settle on a granola bar.

The house seems so quiet. Mrs. Cope, Alice and Edward are all out with their families. I have the entire house to myself to do whatever I want. Instead, I sit on the sectional and stare into space.

Did I make a huge mistake in leaving the way I did? Will anyone ever understand, ever forgive me? Will they hate me?

The tears won't stop falling as I contemplate the huge mess I've made of my life. It wasn't such a bad life, was it? No, I wasn't happy, I was going insane…

I turn on the TV but barely pay attention to what is in front of me. When my stomach rumbles, I look at the clock and see that it's nearly 5pm. Where did the day go?

Starving, I head back into the kitchen, emerging moments later with a pint of Ben & Jerry's chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and a spoon. When I finish the ice cream, I set the container on the coffee table, turn off the TV, then stand up and walk over to the piano bench.

I sit on the bench and run my fingers across the keys, remembering the night last month when Mrs. Cope and I watched our very own private concert. I think back to the music that flowed out of Edward's fingers and try to remember anything from my long-ago lessons. I hated taking piano — hated pretty much everything my parents pushed me into. I'm jealous of the passion Edward has for music, passion that even the horrors in his past couldn't take away. I've never felt that kind of passion for anything — always just going along with whatever anyone asked of me, whatever was expected of me.

I spend a couple of hours playing little more than "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" or "Mary Had a Little Lamb" — no Debussy for me — and then head back to the couch. I curl up in one corner and start crying again. Why didn't my old life make me happy? Most people would've been thrilled with my life.

It's nearly sunset when I hear a noise at the door and then footsteps on the hardwood floor in the foyer. It must be Edward; the footsteps just seem like a man's.

He flicks the light switch and then the footsteps stop.

"Bella?" he whispers. "What were you doing sitting down here in the dark?" He walks around the sectional and stands there, staring down on me curiously.

"Bella," he says again, louder, when I don't answer. "Are you all right?"

I look up at him and can't help the fresh flood of tears down my cheeks.

Edward sits down next to me and reaches up, curling his hand around my cheek. "Bella, tell me what's wrong."

I sniffle. I can't hold this in any longer. "I'm just wondering if I did the right thing."

"The right thing in what?"

"Leaving. Coming to Forks. What if no one understands why I had to leave?" I sob.

Edward stares at me, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. "You know, you never do say much about why you left Phoenix. You can tell me, you know. You were there for me when I needed someone to listen. Maybe I can be the same for you?"

I stare up at Edward… could I tell him the truth? Have I found someone I can confide in?

"I don't even know what you did for a living back in Phoenix. Were you a waitress there, too?" he asks.

"Yes. No. I mean, I was, back in high school, but, um, I had an office job."

"And you didn't look for anything similar in Forks?"

"No… the last thing I wanted to do was sit in front of a computer."

"So you left because you were unhappy with your job," he concludes.

"That was part of it. I worked long hours, and it was hard juggling both work and a personal life," I reply.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you came to Forks, but couldn't you have just changed jobs?"

"I — I don't know if that would've helped. I just… I needed to start fresh, I think." I look down and realize Edward is holding my hand. How long has he been doing that?

"I'm sure your family will understand if you explain it to them," he says gently. "Have you spoken to them lately?"

"No," I whisper.

"Well, you should… It's Mother's Day — go call your mom and tell her you love her." Suddenly Edward's arm is behind my back and he pulls me toward him. I tense for a second, wondering what he's doing, but then he wraps his left arm around me and hugs me tightly. I belatedly realize that I'm still just in my pajamas, braless.

He releases me and lets out a chuckle. "Did you really finish that whole pint of ice cream?" he asks, nodding his head toward the empty container.

"Yes," I say defensively. "I was starving."

Edward laughs. "Hey, I'm just saying. Look, Bella, you should go upstairs and take a long bubble bath or something, isn't that what women do to relax?"

I roll my eyes. "Thanks, Edward… for returning the favor," I say as I stand, self-consciously crossing my arms in front of my chest.

"Anytime, Bella."

"Friends?"

"Friends," he agrees with a small smile.

"Bella, are you almost ready?" Edward calls through the bedroom door.

"Be out in a minute!" I shout back.

Today, a week after my meltdown, is my first day working with Tyler Crowley, the high school student who needs tutoring on the oboe. I finally let Edward talk me into trying to work with him. I'm nervous that I won't really remember any tips on playing, as it's been so long.

I look at my reflection in the mirror above the sink and smooth my blouse. I don't know why I'm primping, for God's sake — it's just Edward and a high school kid.

Finally I open the door and make my way downstairs. Edward is seated in the living room and looks up as he sees me enter the room.

"'Bout time," he teases.

Before I can think of a snappy comeback, the doorbell rings. Edward jumps up to answer it, while I stand awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs.

Moments later, Edward and a tall, thin teenage boy with beautiful cocoa skin enter the room. The boy is carrying a long, narrow black case. "Bella, this is Tyler. Tyler, this is Bella; she lives here, too."

"Nice to meet you, Tyler," I say, extending my hand.

Tyler shakes my hand briefly and nods, smiling. "Nice to meet you, too."

"Why don't we sit down," Edward suggests.

We walk around to the seating area and Tyler sets the case on the coffee table. He opens it up and pulls out his oboe before taking his seat.

"That's a beautiful instrument, Tyler," I say. "How long have you been playing?"

"Since ninth grade, about a year and a half."

"Well, I'll try to help you out, but I played clarinet when I was in high school. The two look very similar, but the clarinet is actually much easier to learn. Why don't we start by having you play something for me so I can see where you need help."

"Ok," Tyler agrees.

Tyler plays a lively piece of music that I actually remember from my own days in band. I can see that his problems stem mostly from finger placement. I suggest a few exercises that I remember will improve dexterity.

When the hour is up, Tyler has a big smile on his face. "Thank you so much, Bella. I knew there had to be something more that I could do to practice than just what our teacher was telling us."

"No problem," I smile. "I'm glad I could help. Remember — you need to practice at least an hour a day. I don't think you've been doing that."

"You're right, I haven't, not since baseball season started. But I'll make more of an effort to work it in. Do you still play your clarinet?"

I shake my head. "No. It's back at my parents' house in Phoenix. I haven't played in years."

Tyler closes the case and readies to leave. "Thanks again, Bella. Thanks, Edward."

Edward laughs. "I didn't do anything except listen. Come on, let me walk you out."

Moments later Edward reappears with a smirk on his face. "I think someone has a crush on you."

"Huh?"

"Tyler. Didn't you notice the way he smiled at you? I think he likes you."

"Oh please, he's too young for me."

"Tell him that," Edward chuckles as he pulls out his phone. "Oh hey, it's almost 12:30, did you wanna grab some lunch with me or something? I have a couple hours until my next lesson."

Well that was unexpected. "Um, sure, just let me run upstairs and get my purse and jacket."

Edward and I settle on lunch at the deli down the street. It's a beautiful spring day as we walk the couple of blocks.

"Thank you again for helping Tyler. You had a lot of good advice for him. I'd bet you were the best in your class at clarinet."

I feel my face heat up. "I was pretty good," I hedge, not wanting to boast.

"Why did you stop playing?"

I shrug. "Even though I love music, I never really liked playing music all that much. I only played because my parents pushed me."

Thankfully, we arrive at the deli before I say too much. After ordering our sandwiches and taking our seats, Edward changes the subject.

"Are you ever going to tell me the real reason you came to Forks?"

"Are you ever going to tell me the real reason you moved back to Forks?" I counter.

He winces. "Touché. All right, no heavy questions." He grins. "What's your favorite color?"

"Green," I answer without thinking, as those expressive green eyes of Edward's stare into mine.

"Mine's blue," he says. "Favorite food?"

"Mexican, definitely. You can't grow up in the Southwest and not fall in love with Mexican food."

Edward's face takes on a shy, contrite expression. "Yeah, um, that reminds me… sorry if I was rude when you and Alice asked me to join you when you made chicken enchiladas a couple months back. I'm not used to getting good Mexican food around here. I'm pretty much a meat and potatoes guy."

"It's fine," I say with a small smile.

Our sandwiches arrive then and I watch as Edward takes a huge bite of his Philly cheesesteak. I laugh as I see cheese sauce dripping down his chin. Without thinking, I reach up and wipe it off with my finger. I stare at the gooey yellow cheese on the tip of my finger before popping it into my mouth.

Edward's eyes seem to darken as he watches me. Oh shit, I really didn't mean to do something like that, something so… suggestive. I give him an embarrassed grin. "Sorry."

"If you wanted to share, all you had to do was ask." He gives me a crooked smile and I am sure that I turn an even brighter shade of red.

"Your blush is cute," he blurts out.

"Umm… "

"Never mind, sorry. Where were we?" He continues our "game" of 20 questions, "Favorite band."

"Um, Matchbox Twenty."

"Dave Matthews Band. Seriously, Bella — Matchbox Twenty?"

I shrug. "I haven't listened to much new music in the last 10 years."

Edward's brow furrows and I hold my breath, hoping he doesn't probe further into that.

"Favorite movie?" he continues.

"Dirty Dancing."

"A chick movie?" he groans.

"Well, Patrick Swayze was hot," I counter, chuckling.

"Hmmm… if you say so. I prefer action movies, myself. Do you like to read?"

"I do. I just don't have much of a chance to read for pleasure. Or didn't," I add.

"Right, that inability to balance work and a personal life back in Phoenix."

I just nod, again hoping he drops the subject.

"Were you… dating anyone before you left?"

Thank God I have just taken a bite of my BLT, as it gives me time to think of an answer as I finish chewing. I swallow and finally answer, "No, I wasn't dating anyone."

"No time for that?"

"Right," I agree with a sigh.

"So you didn't leave a trail of broken hearts behind you?"

"Hardly," I say. "I've only dated a handful of guys."

"So what's your ideal type of guy?"

"I don't know that I really have one, I guess. I never really thought about it. What about you?" I ask.

"I used to have a thing for blondes, but that never seems to turn out very well for me, so I think I've switched to brunettes." He grins at me.

I nervously finger my brown hair, feeling for the first time that Edward might be flirting with me.

"Are you finished with your sandwich?" I ask. Edward nods and I continue, "We should probably be getting back. I still need to go grocery shopping and figure out what I'm going to make for dinner."

"You know, you don't have to shop for all of us, Bella."

I shrug. "It's fine, I'm used to it. What would you like for dinner?"

"Turkey and stuffing with all the trimmings," he replies with a grin as we get up to throw our trash away.

"Maybe for Thanksgiving dinner, now how about tonight?"

He laughs, holding the door open for me. "It was worth a shot. I don't know, can you make, like, pork chops or something?"

"Sure, my dad loves stuffed pork chops."

Edward throws his arm around me then as we walk back. "I sure am glad you moved in, Bella."

"You just want someone to cook for you," I say, elbowing him in the ribs in a desperate attempt to keep this flirtation from taking flight.

A/N: A big thank you to owlsarebirdstoo for pimping this story! Also thanks to moosals, JenEsme and gjficfan for their faithful reviews of every chapter. Now what about the rest of the 43 of you with this fic on Story Alert and the 24 who have marked it a Favorite? Can I shame you into reviewing? I reply to all reviews, and will send along a teaser for the next chapter! :)