A/N: A huge thank you goes out to Kristina for working her beta magic and to cejsmom for prereading. Words cannot describe how much I appreciate you guys! And as always, thank you so, so much to all you readers for being hilarious and discussing and forming clubs. And oh yeah, for reading :D

Chapter 11

Fall 2010

-nine months before the wedding-

I'm back in the crowed halls and I'm trying to pretend like I belong. In my dreams there are less people but otherwise every thing else is the same. It's so loud and sweaty and I'm struggling to remember what I used to do back here. I check that the all access pass Edward left for me in the envelope is still in my back pocket. My hands feel clumsy and awkward and I'm sure that I look so out of place I'm in danger of getting my ass kicked out. But no one really looks twice at me as I maneuver my way through the crewmembers and screaming, rabid fans.

And I mean rabid. Someone must have dumped crazy in the water because I've never seen people act like this before. I want to stop and yell at them – tell them that those guys up there, they're just people, chill the fuck out. But I don't because there's something about the girls here that make me fear for my life. Instead, I carry on quietly and slip past security without a second glance.

I guess they can tell I have done this before, even if it has been a while.

I find the right door and lean against the doorframe when I knock even though I don't really expect it to open. I'm surprised when it slips open a crack at first, and then suddenly the heavy door is thrown wide open. When I see who stands on the other side my face breaks out into a grin.

"Bella?" The band's manager and an old friend of mine, Jasper Whitlock, stands next to a burly security guard. His mouth is hanging open in surprise as he pulls me into his arms and squeezes me so tight my feet leave the ground. I laugh as he kisses my cheek and holds me back at arms-length when he sets me down. "Holy fucking hell. I thought Cullen was shitting me when he said you might be here. I owe the cocksucker a hundred bucks now."

"It's good to see you too, Jas," I laugh as he releases me and pats me a few times on the back and just kind of blinks at me.

"Well, shit. Can I get you anything, girl? Beer? Stella?"

"Sure," I say as I follow him into the dressing room and begin to relax. He slips off the beanie that is covering his blonde curls and runs his hand over his head a few times as he digs out a beer from the mini-fridge. He pops the top and passes it over to me and we relax back in the leather couches. Concrete walls muffle the activity outside the doors and I sip my beer. This is more like what I remember, and I feel a little bit at home.

And I wonder, just for a fraction of a second, why Edward still keeps his fridge stocked with Stella when I was the only one who ever drank it.

"E's just in the shower," Jasper says, nodding towards a closed door at the back of the room.

"It's fine," I tell him. "I'm not in a hurry."

He raises his eyebrows and lights up a joint. "You got a sitter tonight?"

"Garrett."

"Oh." He exhales a cloud of smoke and coughs. "Shit. I forgot you two were…" He points at me awkwardly and then shrugs. "You know. Anyway. How's he doing these days?"

"He's great," I tell him. Garrett swears getting mono and being left behind was one of the best things to ever happen to him. But I see the look in his eye every time he has to be reminded about the accelerated success of his old band and I notice the way he changes the station ever time one of their songs comes on the radio. But I know how it feels to be left behind too.

"Good." Jasper nods. "You want?" he offers me the joint and I shake my head. "Right." He looks awkward again like he really doesn't know what to say.

"Are those yours?" I ask, nodding at a pack of smokes sitting on the coffee table. Without answering, he leans forward and tosses the pack into my lap followed by the lighter. I can't remember the last time I had a cigarette. But I had a few stadium beers during the show and I'm feeling pretty good. I light up the smoke and toss the lighter and the box back on the coffee table between us.

"The kid's cute," he says, holding his hand up to about Masen's height. "Came by the sound check with E this morning. He'll be old enough to start coming to shows pretty soon, hey?"

I roll my eyes as I exhale. "Not for a while yet."

"Oh you're going to be one of those moms," Jasper goads.

"He's hardly even four years old, Jas."

"Jesus. Has it been that long already?"

I just shrug and Jasper kicks his feet up on the coffee table. "So, what'd you think of the show?" he asks me.

"It was great," I tell him. Truthfully, it was the best show I'd ever been to, period. As cliché as it sounded, the band truly came alive on stage. And beautiful was truly the only word I could think of to describe Edward when he performed. He was just… perfect up there. The crowd's reaction to him had floored me – every single woman wanted him and every single man wanted to be him. I knew Black Velvet Kings were doing well, but actually witnessing it firsthand was something else entirely.

"Just 'great'? Really? Three platinum records and all I get is 'great'?"

I turn to the sound of Edward's voice behind me. He's standing with a towel in his hands, a pair of jeans hanging from his hips and nothing else. He's beaming as he teases me, the lingering stage high evident on his face. And the smile on his face makes me soar.

"Well, it wasn't terrible for a bunch of sell-outs," I grin slyly. He runs the towel over his hair and throws it at me. When I try and block the towel I drop what's left of my cigarette on the floor and pick it up, tossing it in the ashtray. It tastes gross anyway.

"Sell-outs? Ouch. Remind me not to give her free tickets again," he says, addressing Jasper as he jerks his thumb in my direction.

Jasper holds up his hands in surrender as he gets to his feet. "Don't you guys go getting all domestic on me already. I'm staying out of it. I gotta go find Ty anyway. He's got that interview to do."

Edward already has his head stuck in the mini-fridge. His voice comes out muffled but he holds up a hand as he waves at Jasper. "Cool. Peace, dude."

"Bye, Jas." I wave as he slips out the door past the security guard and slams the door behind him. I sip my beer and watch as Edward kicks the fridge shut and picks a t-shirt up off the floor. After carefully bringing it to his face sniffing it a few times, he pulls it over his head and comes to settle down on the couch beside me. He pours some whiskey in a glass with ice and sets it on the coffee table. Throwing his arm over the back of the couch, he twists in his seat and calls out to the body guard still standing inside the door.

"Hey, Dem. You mind chillin' outside for a bit dude?"

"No problem." The gigantic man nods towards us before making his exit. I watch the spot where the man was standing for a bit longer than normal, my brain too busy just trying to process why the hell Edward would ask him to leave and just what exactly that means.

"So fucking unnecessary," Edward mutters, jerking his thumb towards the door as I slowly turn back around.

I shrug. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. Personally, I'd be more afraid to mess with Emmett than any of these roided-out body guard fucks."

I smile. "Where is Emmett tonight?" I say the words before I really think about it. And it's just because I'm feeling at home back here – the dressing rooms might be bigger and nicer – but it's still home. And backstage was rarely ever home without Emmett there too. Although they talk more now than they did for a while, things are still tense between the two brothers.

"Dunno," Edward shrugs. "I sent him and Ro some tickets, though. You didn't see them?"

"Actually, I didn't even tell Rose I was coming."

"Really?" Edward raises his eyebrows and grins. "Why not?"

"I didn't even think I was going to come."

"Are you glad you did?"

"Very," I smile.

"Me too." He smiles all shy and raises his glass to cheers it with mine. I watch him, smiling, and yeah and get it. I understand why he chose his music. He's never happier than when steps on that stage. I see it. I understand it. But damn if it doesn't still hurt.

When I finish my beer, I help myself to a second and Edward laughs as he watches me.

"What?" I shrug innocently. "I don't get out much these days. I have to take advantage of this." Winking, I twist off the top.

When I sit back down on the couch, I notice he's frowning. And I see the guilt in his eyes and hear it in his voice when he speaks, "Trust me, Bell, I really do wish I could be home more. I told you I'd pay for sitters or nannies or whatever you want and I know it doesn't make up for it but I just hate leaving you with the responsibility of Masen all the time—"

I hold up my hands to stop him. "Edward, you realize you can't just throw money at a kid and expect him to raise himself, right?"

His face falls. "You know that's not what I mean. I just wish I could do more to help."

All my replies are bitter, and I sigh. It's such a touchy subject. But I tell him, "I love being a mother and Masen will never be a burden. Ninety-nine percent of the time, there's no where I'd rather be than with my son."

I can see the anguish and regret cloud his face with my words, and I have to wonder if it's because he feels the same way… or because he doesn't?

"Except for right now?" he asks, trying so hard to mask whatever it is that he's thinking.

I look up at him and offer him a small smile. "Except for right now."

He still looks guilty but I try to ignore it because I don't have the energy to waste on being angry. Honestly, when it comes down to it, the fact is that no matter how much he says he wants to be here, he's not. He's just… not. Maybe we'll never be first in his life. But it breaks my heart when Masen cries for his Daddy and I have to tell him it's 3 a.m. in London, or he's in the studio, or he's on stage somewhere, or he just can't be reached right now.

Music is why I fell in love with the boy who lived down the street. Unfortunately, it's also the reason why I fell out of love with him, too.

"Edward…" The words are on the tip of my tongue but I swallow them down at the last minute. "So, um, that apartment…" I say instead, "Your apartment. In Seattle. How'd that happen?" I watch him, trying to act like it hasn't been on my mind since he left my house yesterday.

And he smiles like he's been expecting me to ask about it since he left my house yesterday. "My accountant is always encouraging me to invest in real estate," he shrugs casually.

I frown. "An investment? That's… great," I say but my voice lacks sincerity.

He looks amused at my reaction. "Bella… that was a joke," he says slowly. I think he might be a little hurt that I believed him so easily.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was speaking to Edward Cullen the comedian," I say dryly. "Maybe if you actually had a sense of humor I wouldn't take everything you say so literally."

"I happen to think I'm hilarious."

"Well that makes one of you."

"You're so full of it, Swan. And actually, a friend of mine was selling, and I figured it was a good idea for me to have a place here. A place of my own. Now that I'm taking Masen overnight, I figured it would be nice to actually have somewhere to, you know, take him. And eventually he'll have his own bed there and his own room." His eyes light up as he speaks, and his excitement at creating his own home for Masen warms my heart. "But the place is pretty modern and not exactly kid friendly yet."

I grin. "Mase came home and told me he slept in a spaceship last night," I tell him.

Edward bursts out laughing. "Oh my god, that's what he was talking about! He kept asking if we were going to the moon… I just figured it was all the chocolate I gave him before bed talking—"

I open my mouth to scold him but I catch the smirk playing on his lips and realize he's joking. Again. Such a comic. I snap my mouth shut and just shake my head. "Gotta admit I'm a little disappointed you didn't actually buy a spaceship. But will you be keeping your place in L.A. too?"

He sighs and sets his glass down on the coffee table. He runs his hands through his hair as he nods. "Yeah. I have to. I mean, it doesn't necessarily mean I'm going to make it back to Seattle as much as I'd like, but I'll have a place to stay when I do. It's a step in the right direction."

"I think it's great," I say earnestly. "And now Masen won't think you're some homeless musician. Or that you still live with your mother."

He makes a face as he picks his drink back off the table. "Homeless? I'm going to have to start reminding him more about how famous and successful I am," he says. "Better tell him to watch who he talks to or that'll end up in the tabloids next week."

"Shoot… I probably shouldn't have programmed that number for TMZ into his cell phone then."

Edward chuckles. "Yeah that might have been a bad idea – they always say it's the ones closest to you that end up selling you out."

"You probably won't have to worry about that for a few years yet," I say. "But wait until he's a teenager and wants to make your life miserable…"

He mouth falls open, a look of mock horror on his face. "We've created a monster."

"But a pretty darn cute monster, you have to admit."

Edward's face morphs into a grin. "You're not kidding. The guys were falling all over him when I brought him to sound check. And I think Jasper's girlfriend is completely in love with him. Takes after his old man," Edward grins, puffing out his chest.

I laugh into my beer bottle. "Obviously," I snort.

"But hey, I was thinking about something today," he says, and the nonchalance in his voice instantly makes me suspicious.

I pull my bottle from my lips. "Oh?"

"Masen was saying that he wants to see what I do, you know, how I make music and all that. We're going to be back in the studio this spring, and I know it's still a ways away… but maybe you and Mase can fly out to LA and visit for a while. I can show you guys around, Masen can see the studio and we can all spend some time together. I've got plenty of room and you guys would be welcome to stay for as long as you'd like."

I feel my heart deflate at his innocent request, because he has unknowingly brought up a topic that I had wanted to avoid tonight. Or forever, were it possible.

"I can't, Edward," I say softly.

"Garrett can come too, if that's what you're worried about," he offers even though I can tell he doesn't really mean it.

"That's not exactly it," I tell him.

He slides closer and looks genuinely concerned, which makes this even more difficult. "Why then?" he asks. "Is it money? Because I told you, Bell, you don't have to worry about that kind of stuff."

I get to my feet to try and get some distance from him, to try and clear my head of him. But it's so stuffy in here, and he's everywhere. I see a belt on the floor that I swear he's had since he was fifteen. I can taste him in the air and can even tell he still uses the same shampoo that he did when he was a high school.

It's fucked up that he can somehow manage to be this famous, successful Edward and the humble, shy one I grew up with all at once.

This shouldn't be so hard. He's messing with my brain.

"Bell?" he asks again, with even more concern laced in his voice.

Finally, I blurt it out.

"I'm getting married, Edward."

Before I can blink he's on his feet and moving towards me. I step away from him, trying to outrun the words while he hurtles right though them. I move backwards until my back bumps the concrete wall and I'm cornered. His eyes are downcast and his eyebrows furrowed and I don't think he meant to corner me but he has.

His palms touch the wall on either side of my head and I try not to breathe.

He so close.

Too close.

I have to stop myself from closing my eyes; I can almost taste him on my lips. He's still looking down and I wish I could see his eyes. His eyes would tell me exactly what he's thinking right now.

"Edward?" My voice shakes.

"…You're marrying him?" He finally speaks, his voice breathing sorrow and pain and everything into a few simple words. "Why?"

"Because he asked." And really, yes I wish it were that simple.

He laughs, almost, and shakes his head. "Marry me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. "Edward. Be serious."

"I am," he says, and slowly he raises his head to look me in the eye. "You love me."

"Don't," I breathe and look anywhere but at him.

"It's true," he insists.

"Edward, don't," I beg. "Please."

"Tell me, Bella." His fingers slide under my chin and lifts is up until I meet his eyes. "Do you really believe you belong with him?"

I can only watch him, my eyes wide and filling with tears.

"Bella, I lo-"

He begins to say it but I cut him off before he can finish.

"Edward," I plead, squeezing my eyes shut. My voice is weak, the effect those three simple words has on me is unexpected. But he continues.

"And a part of me has loved you since the first day I met you, Bell. Don't do this. Don't marry him. You don't belong with someone like him."

"You'd rather see me alone," I grind out, "Than happy? Don't ruin this for me. Let me be happy, Edward. Let me have something, for once."

I feel him move away and when I dare to open my eyes his back is to me, his shoulders rigid. I remain pressed up against the wall as I watch him. A warm tear slides down my face and rolls past my lips.

"Where's your ring?" His voice is hollow.

I glance down at my bare hand. "I didn't want… I couldn't. I don't know, Edward. I didn't want you to have to see it… I didn't come here to rub it in your face. I didn't want to have to do this, not now."

He looks back at me like he doesn't believe me. "When were you planning on telling me, then? When I got the invite in the mail? Or – oh wait – I bet I wouldn't even be invited, would I? You could have called me from your honeymoon, I suppose."

"Edward, come on. I came here to see you, not to do this. I didn't come here to hurt you. But I'm also not going to lie to you. You deserve to know the truth."

He shakes his head. "You're making a mistake and you know it."

"Edward—"

"You know this is a mistake, Bella," he says, his voice low. He moves slowly towards me and suddenly I'm not sure what mistake he's talking about anymore. "You should be with me."

"You can't just leave me behind," I say, "And expect me to wait. You don't get that. And I don't love you like that – not anymore."

His eyes change and they're not soft or sad anymore, but they're not angry either. It's a look I remember.

Hunger.

I don't push him away when he comes closer. I can't look away as he moves in, until all I see in his eyes are my own.

"You should go," he all but growls.

My words are a soft flutter between us, hardly a breath. "Fine."

"Then I guess this is good-bye," he says but he moves closer, and I can practically feel his words moving against my mouth. I bite my bottom lip to stop it from trembling and close my eyes. He smells like aftershave and mints. And I try to think of other things, things that don't smell good. Like the pancakes he would burn on Sunday mornings, when we'd come home from a show and were both too buzzed to sleep. Or the sweat in his hair after a show. Or the way his laundry would smell after a tour. I try to imagine these things but I can't. He's rendered my brain useless and I think of things like honey and blueberries, more things that only remind me of him.

Before I know it happened, I'm pinned between him and the wall behind me. I don't move and I don't even think I can breathe anymore. I feel his hot breath on my neck and my head rolls back. He edges closer until I can feel every part of him pressing against me, so familiar but new all at once. It takes every ounce of strength I have to not move against him. My legs shake to support me and I ache for friction and my skin feels like it's burning. And I realize it's been a long time since I've felt this way.

"Just know, Bella," he says, his voice a whisper across my skin. I shudder and he leans down and presses his lips to the curve of my neck, "I won't go down without a fight." He has a piece of my hair wrapped around his finger and I find the courage to open my eyes. He's looking down on me, his eyes on fire. And he's fighting already.

"You won't win," I tell him, but my voice says something else. ""I won't…" my voice dies off as his mouth moves up and places a hot kiss below my ear. I swallow hard, and as I swallow it's like I drag that kiss down my throat to my chest where it settles and it burns and it aches…

I think about that time we played poker in the back of the band's van, when a blizzard stranded us on the side of some highway in Minnesota. When he taught me about bluffing and how to keep your expression neutral so your opponents can't read your face; won't know what cards you hold. Whether your hand is good or bad. Whether you might win or lose. Because with the best poker face, the cards you are dealt don't matter.

"Edward, I won't choose you."

I never won when we played poker.

He begins to back away, and he's shaking his head. "We could make it work," he mutters.

"We can't," I say, and this time I mean it. "I'm not the same person you left behind and you have to understand I can't put myself through that anymore. I can't just have that tiny piece of you that passes through town every few months. Just please let me go, Edward," I beg. "I will never judge you and I will never hate you, but I will never let you break my heart again and I will never let you do that to your son. So please, Edward, let me go – because I let you go four years ago. And now… now we're nothing more than two people that happen to have a son together."

I turn to leave, angry and frustrated that this is what tonight has become. I didn't want a fight and I sure as hell didn't want this. I wanted to spend time with Edward without all of this, but I was kidding myself when I thought it could be like it used to. There is no place for me in this world anymore. And now my emotions are a mess and I'm on the verge of a breakdown and I just need to leave. And as I reach for the door, he makes a sound in the back of his throat that is somewhere between a gasp and a sob.

"Bell," he calls after me, his voice desperate, like he's choking on his last breath. It's enough to reel me back. His hand wraps around my arm and I realize at the last second that he doesn't even have to pull me towards him. I've changed course all on my own. Our bodies crash into each other, and I'm gasping for a breath the same time his mouth meets mine.

Almost the same moment that our lips meet, we both pull away. Edward's hand is cradling my cheek, and his fingers feel cool against my flushed skin. Our faces are hardly an inch apart. My chest rises and falls like I've just spend hours chasing Masen around the house.

"Edward, this is –"

"I know."

I look up slowly and meet his eyes, my lips parted and my breath is still coming out in pants. His hooded eyes look down at me, but neither of us moves. And I don't know what the breaking point is – if it's the beer or the closeness or the high from the show or the fact that I can still taste him on my lips – but in that moment something snaps between us. My mouth meets his again, and this time we surrender to the embers that crackle and pop around us, igniting a fire between our two bodies.

He lets out a heavy breath against my mouth and I can taste the relief and hunger as his body unfolds against mine. My lips move against his in the same way my foot taps along to the familiar beat of an old song. And whatever it was I was feeling when he had me pinned against the wall I now feel that times a thousand. My hands claw at his hair as his clench around my lower back, pulling me closer, closer, closer until our bodies become one. And for one fraction of a second everything feels right and nothing has changed. I can taste the warm sting of salt on my lips as he presses my back against the concrete wall. I pull him harder against my body by his belt loop and a quiet moan passes between us.

My body feels a fire that hasn't burned in over four years, and the only thought on my minds is: there has to be a fucking way to make this work. And maybe that was his endgame or maybe this is really just a farewell.

A good-bye.

Because I don't think it's possible to truly love someone you don't trust. And just because you don't hate someone, it doesn't mean that you love them. Tears well in my eyes with the realization that tonight – that all of this – it was never anything but good-bye.

"Edward," I say, my voice shaking. He lets out a tiny groan in response to his name that makes this even harder. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to stop feeling.

"Edward, stop," I gasp. He has my hair wound around one hand while the other climbs up the curve of my hip, but he freezes at my words.

"I have to go," I say because, shit, what the hell else do I say?

He steps away from me like my skin has burned him. I watch the way his chest rises and falls as he gasps for air and he drags the back of his hand slowly against his mouth. "You don't have to," he says, shaking his head slowly. "You're choosing to." He holds up his hands as if to remind me I'm the one who turned around and I'm the one who came back. And that I'm the one who's leaving.

I can only shrug helplessly. "We all make choices that hurt people we care about," I say sadly. "And I'm so sorry, but I shouldn't have come. I just really… shouldn't have come."

"No, you shouldn't have." His voice is wounded and I can tell that he's going to blame me for this, and if that's what he needs to do then I can take it.

"I'm going to be really busy for a while now," he tells me as I turn to leave, this time for good. "It's going to be a while before I can get back to see Masen." My eyes fill with tears in response to his words. I don't know what hurts me more – the fact that he's already admitted defeat or that our son has to suffer because of it.

"Fine," I say with my back to him, trying to mask the anger in my voice. "Just… make sure and call him every once in a while. Check in."

"I always do," he says, his voice breaking and sounding farther away than it had just been.

"Good-bye, Edward," I mouth the words to the door. And I swear I can hear a soft whisper of a reply from somewhere behind me.

Even though I know I shouldn't, I glance back as I slip through the heavy door. I hesitate for a moment in the threshold, realizing that I now know what it looks like when a man falls to pieces on top of the world.

.x.

A/N: Soooo. Yeah. The whole "I'm getting married" thing was one of the things Garrett wanted her to tell Edward. The other thing? Perhaps we'll find that one out next chapter...

Thanks again to everyone for reading! xoxo