Turkey Baster 11
That Sunday afternoon, after church, after I'd played piano like I did three Sundays out of every month, I walked up to the desk in the hotel lobby where Edward and I had our fling on Friday. "Hi," I said to the impeccably groomed young woman in the black suit. "I am hoping you can help me." I told her my boyfriend, Edward Cullen, had left his boots here last Friday evening in room 321. "He may have come back for them…he didn't tell me."
She said one moment, and she called housekeeping. I tapped my fingers on the desk while I waited.
I hadn't heard from him since the shoes left at my door the night before-since the note in the purple box with the black shoes that belonged to my sister. The thick, white piece of stationary which sat beneath the shoes had strong black writing on its face which read, "I had this delivered so don't freak out. I meant what I said, next move is yours. It was hard to give these up. But I want to see them again with you in them. It's only been one day, but I'm tired of trying to stay away from you. Please." Edward Cullen.
He couldn't just keep saying these kinds of things to me. I was human, afterall. He was doing to my emotions what he'd done to my body—relentlessly penetrating me. I was on the brink of coming apart.
I jumped a little when the boots were set on the counter before me. They were worn into the shape of his feet and legs. They looked masculine and sexy even when he wasn't wearing them.
"Great," I said taking them and walking with purpose to my car.
I was still in my church clothes, a long silky skirt and white sleeveless blouse. I wore sandals. My hair was in a braid over my shoulder. I had dangly earrings on. I looked in the rearview and my eyes were bright. I looked like I was up to something and it made me laugh a little, but very little. I'd set his boots on the seat next to me, and I kept looking at them while I drove to the bar.
It was closed. It wouldn't open until four. I looked at my cell and it was 1:30. Then I noticed two cars parked in the far corner, closest to the building. One was a silver Volvo. Why was he here if the place was closed? Didn't he have a home?
Now I was torn. What was I doing?
I was ending this. He gave me my shoes. I'd give him his boots…and give him THE boot. It had to end. I couldn't have him keep trying to contact me. I couldn't live under that kind of pressure. Because if, by chance, I was already pregnant, he could not be around.
I admit I had a soft spot growing for him. I admit I was attracted to him. I admit what I'd said already. He had possibly saved me and ruined me at the same time. But it had to end now. If I wasn't pregnant, I'd have to start over with someone else, and I couldn't think of doing that right now, or ever. But it couldn't be Edward Cullen. For several reasons I didn't want to worry about.
I took the boots and walked to the door of the club. It opened. I stepped in. At first I thought it was empty. Then my eyes adjusted and I saw Edward and a blond woman standing behind the bar. They turned right away and looked at me.
"We're closed," she snapped. "You apply through the website."
They'd been measuring something as she held a tape measure and he held the other end. He must have let go of his end because I heard it snake furiously toward her and snap into place. She let go of the thing and squealed, then stuck her wounded thumb in her mouth and glared at him. He didn't even notice, as he stared at me while I walked up to the bar. Then eyes went to the boots that I set on its scarred wooden top.
She was looking at him like, 'what the heck?'
He seemed to remember her then. "Oh, I'm sorry Tanya," he meant about her thumb. But he was coming around the bar to me. "This is Bella…."
"You caught me by surprise," he said, his hand going to my arm as he pulled me toward the door. "Thanks for my boots," he said, looking back at Tanya briefly, then to me. His eyes, yeah I saw panic.
"Yeah," I looked at her too. "They…." I had no idea who 'they' were, "…asked me to bring them to you, so…it was on my way…," and I added pathetically, "…from church. I…just got out." I smiled at her, and she was still glaring.
I pulled away then, walked ahead and turned at the door. He wasn't following. "So…," I laughed, or something, waved this stiff stupid wave, "…see ya."
I got outside and made that same screaming sound in my throat that I'd made before when leaving this place. I walked so swiftly, my sandals making a soft rapid sound all the way to my car.
"Bella!" he called my name. It hit me, the sound of it, his desperate voice.
I punched in my code and wrenched the door open, but he was there, he'd run. His hand was on me. "Bella," he said more softly.
"Edward it's over. You won't see me anymore. Don't call me. Don't text me. Do not, do not leave me presents. Nothing. It's over."
"She's not my girlfriend…she was. But…."
"I don't care. That has nothing to do with me. She's not my business. You're not my business. Get your hand off of my arm."
"Bella, Bella," instead of letting go, he stepped closer. "Baby don't do this. Don't be like this. Give me a chance—us a chance." His face was so close, his whole body close.
"I don't want you."
"You don't want me?"
"Now leave me alone."
He was finally listening, staring at me, his eyes so impossible to look into for long, his mouth, open, ready to protest, but silent now, his hands leaving me.
I sat heavily in the car and fumbled to shove my key in the ignition. "Stand back," I said harshly, and he moved a little and I slammed my door. I told myself to get a grip as I backed out, trying not to drive like a fool. I saw her by the door. I heard her call him, "Edward," she said. But I didn't look back. I didn't look.