All recognizable characters, names, places etc belong to their respective owners, in this case - Stephenie Meyer. I don't own Twilight, but I do own this particular plot.
It's late, this time, when I hear the music.
Around two or three…and I can't sleep, which is rare. My appetite might go, even my urge to get out of bed. But falling asleep?
Easy.
I lay in bed, blankets pulled to my chin, toes peeking out, staring at the window beside the bed. In the autumn I leave it open a crack, craving the cool, crisp air. Tonight, though, it's letting in more. Tonight I hear Edward and his guitar, plucking and strumming and singing and … aching.
Tiptoeing to the window, I peer out, trying to see if he's out on his deck. I can't see him, but I can see that the house is dark.
Which makes sense. It is, after all, two or three a.m.
If my husband was sitting alone in the dark, strumming sadness, I'd go to him.
I'm not his wife.
But I go to him anyway.
He's surprised when I approach him, barefoot on the cold grass.
"Bella."
"Hey." I climb up the wooden stairs to their deck.
"Did I wake you up?" He looks everywhere but at me.
"No, I couldn't sleep anyway."
Now that he's stopped playing, there is no sound at all. We're in a vacuum.
Sitting on the top step, I tuck my knees in and pull my sweater down over them. "Are you okay?"
"Tanya's staying with her parents an extra week."
On an instinctive level, this doesn't surprise me at all.
"Is that a bad thing?" I ask, knowing it probably is.
"I'm okay," he says, playing again with the chords.
"When did you start playing?"
"In college."
"San Diego?"
"Yep."
We don't speak for a minute. I run my forefinger over my thumb, wincing when I feel the jagged nail that needs trimming.
"Play me something," I say, asking before I've really thought about it.
He starts right away, a tune that's so familiar that when he starts to quietly sing along I find myself singing too –and I don't ever sing.
It's one of my favorite songs.
In another time and place, a parallel universe, we would be in this place, living and loving this song together. It's sort of surreal to be sitting outside with him while he plays it, plays it well, the air brisk and the stars scattered stark and silver across the sky.
At the end of the song my cheeks are wet and I remember where I am. I wipe my face on my sleeves and get up to leave. He pulls my arm, the first time he's touched me on purpose in eleven years, and I freeze.
"Are you happy?"
There is both relief and loss when his hand falls away. "Are you?"
"Sometimes," he says.
"Same with me." The cold is getting to me, the way it always does after a awhile, and I shiver. "I'm going to try and sleep. You should try too."
"I will." And he does, I think.
Sophie and I spend the afternoon having a private memorial for her father. We look at pictures in an album and listen to songs he loved. Sophie cries a little but not as much as she did when Jacob's passing was still recent and fresh.
Tanya calls when I am cleaning up, informing me that she and Jaime have decided to stay another week with her parents. I know this but I thank her for letting me know.
Sophie's near devastated she has to wait another week before she can see her best friend.
I wonder what's going with those two, really.
By the time Tanya comes back, it's been a quiet week. Edward hasn't been outside, playing guitar, and imagine he's in the midst another crazy work schedule.
She smiles wistfully the morning we resume our carpool arrangement. "Back to the grind."
"Yeah," I say, nodding."How was your vacation?"
"Oh, incredible. It's gorgeous time of year. What about you? You had dinner over at your parent's?"
"Yeah, the usual. It's great though, Sophie loves going over there."
Tanya nods, and I notice her shoulders are rounded, like she's defeated.
All at once I understand, and I feel for her. She feels for Juneau the way I feel for Forks.
Garrett is persistent.
He calls several times before I finally pick up, always around the time when I've finished writing for the day and I'm getting ready for Sophie to come home. The messages he leaves are brief and polite, punctuated each time by a promise to call again.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Bella? It's Garrett – from the other night. Thanksgiving."
"Hi, Garrett. How are you?"
"I'm great, thanks. How've you been?"
"I'm okay," I say, shrugging to myself.
He pauses and I have a feeling I know what he wants to say.
"Listen, I know we don't even really know each other but… I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me… or get coffee."
"I don't date," I say after a moment. As attractive as he is, I can't imagine actually seeing him that way.
"Just coffee, then."
I've a million reasons to say no but I say yes.
Coffee becomes lunch which becomes dinner and sometimes he comes to the house. Initially I'm nervous about Sophie but she doesn't seem to mind him. He doesn't try too hard and she isn't bitter, and I find it isn't as weird to have another man in my house as I'd thought it would be.
He is kind and funny and appealing and smart, but I'm still pretty broken inside. I tell him this, let him know from the beginning not to expect much, and in this way we manage to forge a pleasant but fragile arrangement seasoned with unrequited wanting on his side and subtle guilt on my mine.
But Garrett is a good listener, and maybe it's because he's a lawyer but he's got a way of asking questions I actually answer, of extracting information out of me. I know he likes me, but he isn't aggressive about it. His intentions are clear but he doesn't act like he has an agenda.
Still, he tries once to kiss me goodnight and I have to push him away.
"Sorry," he whispers, his face tight and washed in remorse.
"I can't," I say. The thought of kissing anyone makes me feel like I'm being unfaithful.
Well, anyone except for Edward.
This is not a welcome thought, but it's not surprising either. I've known for awhile now that my feelings for Edward are in the murky in-between. It's one reason I interact with Tanya way more than I do with him.
Another reason is the way he looks at me.
"Bella?" Garrett puts his hand on the doorframe. "I'm really sorry. I know you aren't ready for that and I, I just…I shouldn't have, okay? I can wait."
"You'll be waiting a long time," I tell him, not unkindly. "Don't worry about it, okay?"
He looks sheepish. "You sure?"
"I'm sure."
On Saturday we take Sophie ice skating at the pond. Garrett's good with Sophie. He holds one hand while I hold the other and we skate in long, lazy loops around the outside edges.
"Aren't those your neighbors?" Garrett asks suddenly.
Edward, Tanya and Jaime are easing onto the ice at the opposite end of the pond. It's the first time I've actually seen the three of them together.
Edward looks at Garrett and then he looks at me and it's clear as day he doesn't like what he sees.
I ought to be disgusted. He sure as hell has no right to like or not like anything concerning me.
Instead, my heart betrays me by skipping a beat.
I'm still on St. Croix. Finding an internet cafe to post this has been... entertaining. :)
