A/N: At this point, Team TiaL is like my family, if my family knew about grammar, 80's alternative rock, and Twilight fanfiction.

Music: Golden Lights by Twinkle, covered by The Smiths in '86: ht tp : / / www . youtube . com/watch?v=vLub8oFBbUA (Don't watch, just listen, trust me.)


Present Day

"Really, you'd finally fit in with the rest of us sexless wonders: me and Royce, Jake and his wife, Edward and what was her name?"

Two sets of angry eyes stare across the room at Rose. She's known to speak her mind and shoot from the hip, but she's gone too far.

"You two even get offended the same," she says, shaking her head at Seth and me. "Oh, come on! It's not like it even matters an -"

"Enough, Rose," I say quietly and grab for Seth's hand.

Seth pulls away and excuses himself. I let him go. I understand the need for quiet grief.

"Sometimes you should try thinking before you speak, you know, Rose?" I hiss after Seth's left the room.

"It's been years, Bell. And it's not like they were even -"

The stern look I shoot at Rosalie finally silences her.

"Time has nothing to do with the heart, Rose. You, of all people, should understand that."

Rosalie sits back and blinks. She bites her plump, cherry-red lip. I've touched a nerve and I'm glad. Seth, Rose and I have all been there; we all know the truth in matters of the heart.

The heart doesn't measure movement the way a clock does. It doesn't observe the spinning of the earth on its axis, or our planet's rotation around the sun. It goes on blindly beating, infinitely feeling. The heart is animated by electric energy; and even though it's just the size of our fist, it has enough strength to bring the rest of our body to life.

When we die, the heart's electricity leaves the body in the form of heat. It's true; it's been observed and measured. I did quite a bit of research on this phenomenon for my third novel. The heart's energy never dies; it goes on forever.

"I can be a shitty friend, sometimes," Rosalie says, as her eyes settle on the empty spot where Seth was sitting next to me.

"Give him some time. Then apologize. Seth knows that -"

I let my voice trail off when I hear the soft patter of little feet padding down the hallway. My daughter peeks around the corner.

"Little One?" I ask.

"Hi, Mommy. Hi, Rosie," she squeaks.

"What're you doing, Kiddo?" Rose asks and the corners of her mouth tug upwards, hinting at a smile. My daughter has that effect on people; she can light up a room. I think she's magical, but I'm biased.

"I have pictures," she says quietly. "I drew one for everyone that's going to see me dance on the big stage." She pulls out a stack of construction paper from behind her back.

"You were supposed to be in bed, Honey," I admonish.

"I'm too excited, Mommy. It's getting so much closer."

I can't help but silently agree. One day inevitably follows the next. I understand how nerve wracking it can be.

"Did you make one for me?" Rose asks, scooting to the edge of her seat.

"Of course," my daughter says with a confident nod of her head. "And for your new boyfriend, too."

"Emmett?" Now Rose is really smiling. I notice Seth leaning against the doorjamb out of the corner of my eye. He's looking happier as well. I'm glad.

"For everyone," she proudly assures us all.

I eye the stack of pictures. I wonder what she's drawn.

"So, I can't sleep, Mommy. Not even with the song," she sighs.

Seth clears his throat.

"What song?" Rose wonders out loud.

My daughter's eyes light up. "Do you know The Masens, Rosie?"

My heart thumps. Seth coughs. I notice he's found a beer. God, I could use a beer.

"Do you know The Masens, Kiddo?" Rose replies.

My daughter nods gravely. "I know all about them."

"Come on, then. Let's get you settled back in your room and you can tell me what you know," Rose says, standing up and offering my daughter her hand. I watch them chatting as they retreat down the hallway.

"Do you know The Masens?" Seth chuckles. "History repeating itself, or something, right in your own living room." He takes a long swig of his beer and reclaims his seat.

"No!" I insist a little too vehemently, surprising myself. It's always been extremely important to me that my daughter should never live through the same things I was forced to live through. I hope I'm not paving the way with my storytelling.

"Bella?" Seth asks taking a seat. "What's up? I'm supposed to be the pissy one at the moment."

"Just don't say that, Seth. History can't repeat itself, okay? I know it's an overreaction, but she can never go through all the hell that I…

"Shh, Bell. She'll never," he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Don't you know how many people would step in before any of that happened?"

I nod my head and reach for his beer. He lets me share.

xXxXx

Summer 1988 – Not the best time to be me.

Here's the thing: Sure, I was angry, but after Seth left, Jake and I only had each other. I couldn't ignore him. It would have hurt too much. We spent his last three weeks on Long Island together, like we had for much of our friendship. We talked on the beach at night. We held hands. We listened to The Masens. We concentrated on the things we loved about one another instead of the elephant in the room.

Yes, we did, we loved; I know it now.

July fourth was Jake's last night home. He borrowed his parent's rowboat and we took it onto the bay and dug for clams and mussels out on the sandbars. Later, we lay in the bottom of the boat eating steamers, drinking my dad's bad liquor and listening to The Masens as fireworks exploded over our heads and embers fell in the salty water that surrounded us.

"You sure about this, Jake?" I asked, my fingers finding his.

"We're kind of close to it all, but I don't think they'll hit us."

"That's not what I meant," I said, giving him a playful punch.

"I've wanted to fly fighters since I was five. I'm this close, Bell. I'm sure about it."

"But… you know," I hedged.

Jake pulled his hand from mine.

"What changes if I stay home?" he asked. "I wouldn't change, not how I… I'd just have nothing instead of a career."

"But -"

"I'm going, Bell!" he interrupted, his ever-present anger brimming to the surface. "I decided a long time ago. Nothing's stopping me, okay? Not… anything."

Red and purple lights exploded over our heads. I took a swig of bourbon and it burned its way down my throat.

"Fireworks are so innocent," I decided. "Like the feeling of being a happy kid."

"I kind of think they're like sex," Jake countered.

Well, I certainly hadn't seen fireworks when I was with Jake. I wondered for a second about sex between Jake and Seth, but then I pushed the thought out of my mind.

"I'm going to miss you," I admitted.

"I'll miss you too, you know," Jake said, turning on his side and gazing into my eyes. They were black and bloodshot and I saw the fireworks reflected there. Exploding.

"I'm still angry," I warned.

"You should be," he said as his lips closed over mine.

I clung to Jake a little more than I usually did in the bottom of that boat. I put a little more passion into my kiss. Jake could have taken that to his advantage, but instead, he understood. He pulled away. He whispered that he loved me as my eyes filled with tears.

"You're going to be fine, Bella," he assured me. "You're leaving. You're going to school. You're gonna do better than all of us. Just wait."

xXxXx

July 11th, 1988

Dear Edward,

Your album is all I have this summer. Luckily for me, it's everywhere. The kids play it at the beach. I hear it on local radio stations. It's piped in over the sound system at the mall. Suddenly, what I thought I saw hiding just under the surface of your other albums is out there for everyone to see. This one pushed aside all of the darkness and it celebrates how happy you can be when you've known real pain.

That's what I keep reminding myself. It helps me every day.

Thanks.

Bella

xXxXx

July 29th, 1988

Bella,

Commercial success - who would have thought? This past year has been full of surprises, though, the most significant among them being you. I'll be on the road promoting this insanity for the foreseeable future. I may not have a chance to write much. Trust that you will be on my mind.

Edward

And that was it… No Seth, no Jake, no Edward. No one was there to catch me when I received the letter about my financial aid package from NYU. No one was sober enough to walk me through the vagaries of the process.

I didn't even have a phone.

I made the long distance call at Newman's, hoping they wouldn't get the bill until after I left for school.

"I'm confused," I said in a small voice, holding the printout in my hand. "Tuition assistance doesn't cover everything?"

"Your financial aid package, combined with your scholarship, will completely cover the cost of tuition, Ms. Swan."

"But what about that six thousand dollars -"

"That's the cost of room and board," the woman on the other end cut in. "You'll notice it's in the column listed under 'family contribution'."

"My family's contribution?" I asked. The words didn't compute.

"That is the portion of your educational expenses that your family is expected to pay."

"My family can't pay for any educational expenses," I explained, trying not to let myself get frantic.

"According to their latest tax filings, they can."

"They can't. They just… won't. Isn't there anything else?"

"You've received the maximum in aid, Ms. Swan. Luckily, though, I see that you live on Long Island. We have many students that commute from home."

Right, they commuted from a home – exactly.

"Do you have any additional questions, Ms. Swan?" the woman asked impatiently.

I couldn't think of a single one. "No."

"We look forward to having you here in the fall."

I took that information and filed it away for another day. There was nothing to be done. I'd only applied to one school and I wasn't about to give up everything and follow my father to Forks. I was going to NYU.

I worked my ass off that summer. I took extra shifts and cut back on groceries to save every penny that I could. I avoided the jocks that seemed to flock to Newman's just to make fun of me.

"Where're your boyfriends, you freak?"

"Check it out, it's the black widow. She fucks 'em and kills 'em and makes 'em disappear."

Mr. Newman let me spend as much time as possible in the stockroom.

When I'd come home after a long day of that madness, I'd go to work packing my life up in boxes, and I'd smile when potential buyers walked through the house. They talked in hushed tones about how much it would cost to demolish everything, and about replacing the shifting sandy soil in the yard with good, solid fill. It was inevitable that a buyer would come along sooner rather than later. No matter the state of our home, the beach wasn't going anywhere.

My dad didn't seem to notice that I only took one large backpack with me to college. When he dropped my off at the train station that morning in late August 1988, he kissed me and hugged me and told me that he was proud… and he slipped me sixty dollars. I offered him a weak smile. I'd only need five thousand one hundred and twenty more dollars to score a dorm room.

My worry evaporated, though, as I stepped into my first class at NYU. I'd dreamed about sitting in college lecture halls for years: the other kids looking all studious and self-assured, the ornate architecture, the semi-circle of desks, and the lectern at the front. I felt like I was in one of my own dreams. It was real, though. I pinched myself just to make sure. I'd made it, and I never had to go back.

"Hey, you know The Masens?" a smiley blonde stopped in front of me to ask. She was tall and pierced and had enormous boobs – kind of like a punk rock Barbie doll.

"Uh," I hedged. Did I know The Masens? I didn't know where to begin.

"Your concert T," she said, nodding at my chest. "I've got that one too. He looks so hot in that picture. And that last album… oh my god!" she gushed. "I saw them in San Francisco a couple years ago. I love them."

"Um, yeah. Me too." Them. Him. There was love involved, for sure.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked, and before I could answer she plopped down next to me.

I've been friends with Rosalie Hale ever since. She was a couple years ahead of me, but with my A.P. classes and her laid back approach to higher education, we shared more than a few courses that semester - and over the next couple years. We spent the rest of my first day of college together walking through the village, hanging out in the park, browsing in vintage stores.

I told Rose about the prom and she decided that I was the coolest chick, ever. She filled me in about her boyfriend and the things they did together in bed. I told her that was the most I'd ever heard about anyone's sex life, ever.

At the end of the day, Rose went back to her dorm room and I went off to my supposed 'commute'. In reality, I headed for the library. It had been on my mind ever since the first time I'd been there. I wandered through the stacks. I checked out books I'd wanted to read forever, but never had a chance.

I didn't necessarily intend to stay there that night, but it was quiet and warm, and on a whim I hid in a bathroom stall when they announced they were closing. I slept snuggled up to a microfiche machine. The solution to my non-existent commuting was almost too easy – if the concept of easy included going without a pillow or a bed or a home.

No, I didn't tell Rose. She came from a family of bankers and financiers. She had everything she could wish for, including a boyfriend that liked to go down on her in the shower. It was easier to pretend that I commuted from a home, than to mix my misfortune with our friendship.

In the meantime, I found a data entry job and I saved my money. I hoped and planned to have enough to cover a dorm room by spring semester. When I could, I'd steal from the dining halls. Otherwise, individually wrapped snack cakes and bananas were my friends, along with that awful fifty-cent coffee sidewalk vendors sold.

"You're never going to believe it!" Rose whispered one afternoon when she slid into the seat next to me in our Victorian Lit. lecture.

"Let me think… you didn't have sex with Royce last night?" I teased. Based on her continuous commentary, that would be truly unbelievable.

"Please! Of course we did. In the girls bathroom, too!"

I winced, glad for once that I had nothing to do with dorm life.

"I'm talking about The Masens," she continued excitedly, bopping in her seat. "They're playing a surprise show tonight at Roseland!"

"What?"

"Roseland. The Masens. Tonight!" she repeated.

"But they're on the road," I argued.

"Nuh uh. They're here. And guess who called her dad and pulled some strings and scored two tickets?"

"No!" I shouted. People in the lecture hall turned and stared. I didn't care.

Rose nodded, a big smile taking over her pretty face. "Yep," she whispered dramatically. "Yep, yep, yep!"

"This better not be a joke, Rosalie Hale!"

"You'll come?" Rose asked.

"Are you kidding? Oh my God, you better not be kidding! I'll kill you if you're kidding!"

She wasn't kidding, which was good. I didn't want to have to kill my only friend.

Six hours later I was packed into The Roseland Ballroom with a couple thousand other kids. Rose grasped my hand and squealed with every change in the lighting, and she jumped up and down every time a roadie marched across the stage. I was having a hard time breathing, so I kept movement to a minimum.

"Bella, come on! Aren't you excited?" she asked.

"Um, yeah," I breathed. It had been about two months since I'd last heard from Edward. I hadn't seen him since our shared limo ride over a year ago. Excited didn't cover it.

In fact I'd just decided to come clean with Rose and tell her that I'd met Edward Cullen face-to-face, when the lights went down for real. A deafening roar went up from the crowd and Rose practically pulled my arm off as she jumped up and down and threw her hands over her head.

I didn't care. She could take the arm. Because, there he was, walking out onto the stage, looking angry and like he didn't give a shit. Edward stopped in front of the mic and ran a hand through his messy hair. I couldn't help but noticing that it was different; it looked like someone randomly hacked away at it with garden sheers. I loved it.

I loved him.

I knew him.

I felt faint. I held onto the wall next to me to keep myself standing as I took it all in.

Edward was thinner, and tanner, and… angrier. People tossed random crap onto the stage: flowers and T-shirts and letters and things. He kicked it all back into the audience, like he was kicking in someone's head.

"You fucking came," he growled into the mic.

People cheered and rushed towards him and bouncers threw everyone back into the audience.

"He's so goddamned hot," Rose hissed in my ear.

"I know," I said without taking my eyes off of Edward. 'My Edward', I thought to myself. That was the guy that wrote me letters. He was so breathtaking, and so angry, and so… grown up. Wow.

"You want to hear something?" he asked the crowd.

Audience members screamed out the names of songs from the last album. I simply whispered yes. I'd listen to anything that came out of his mouth.

As if he'd heard my thoughts, Edward screamed into the mic – and it was a loud, ferocious, unintelligible sound that sent piercing feedback over the loud speakers. People held their hands over their ears, but I basked in his madness.

The rest of the Masens were noticeably restless, though. I saw Caius whisper something in Marcus' ear. Jasper randomly kicked at the bass drum. Tension mounted, rolling off the stage, finding it's way into the crowd.

"What if I fucking screamed all night?" Edward Cullen asked us.

The answering cheer was a little more uncertain that time around.

The rest of the band had other plans, though. They weren't there to stand around while Edward screamed. They started in without him. The first bars of the newest single from that latest Masens album swelled through the air and the crowd went wild. Kids danced and cheered, and Rose wrapped her arm around me and swayed.

Edward was the only person in the whole place that didn't seem pleased. He reluctantly joined in, alternately growling and roaring the lyrics. My chest hurt as I listened to him, and I closed my eyes and said a little prayer for his pain. With the next song, Edward seemed to pull himself together, and I watched his face closely, looking for the hints of joy that were hidden in the lyrics. I watched how he lost himself in those lines, and I was pleased.

Someone knocked into Rose and me from behind, a jarring reminder that I was just one small, skinny homeless girl in the middle of a mass of chanting and screaming fans. Suddenly, it seemed impossible that I was the person Edward Cullen had chosen to write letters to, that I was the one that had helped him craft these lyrics.

There were so many taller and better-looking people to choose from.

But it was real. Wasn't it?

I watched Edward shouting the lyrics for all he was worth, and I smiled. I knew those lyrics. I'd seen them written in Edward's handwriting. He couldn't have written to everyone in the audience. He wrote to me. He did.

"He wrote to me," I shouted in Rosalie's ear.

"What?" she asked.

"We wrote letters. Before I moved."

My friend gave me a crazy look, shook her head and went back to singing and jumping in time with the music.

I gave up. Really, who would believe me? I hardly believed it myself. Not to mention that those letters were private. I was pretty certain Edward didn't read them out loud to his friends, so I wouldn't share them either. Anyway, Edward was clearly enjoying himself by now, so I would as well.

I watched his body as he sang, his muscles as they strained, I watched his sweat and his spit. My heart beat harder as I imagined that amazing human being sitting down at a desk, writing me a letter and sealing the envelope with the same spit that was spraying from his mouth as he screamed.

"Come on," Rosalie said, tugging my arm and knocking me out of my reverie.

"What?" I asked.

"We need to get there before everyone else," she said, pulling me toward the back of the ballroom.

"Rose, wait! They're not done. They haven't even -"

"Trust me, Bella!" she shouted. "I know what I'm doing. We can get closer to them than this."

I wasn't opposed to getting closer, so I followed Rosalie outside and down the block. She chattered on about the show and I quietly hoped she knew what she was doing. She took us around a corner, and then down an alley between buildings. There were a few kids milling around, a couple guys in black near an unmarked door and lots of trash.

"What is this?" I asked.

"They're going to come out right over there," she said, pointing at the door.

"You think so?" I asked.

"I know so, Bella. I've done this before."

So we waited. The temperature started to drop and I realized I was going to miss lights out at the library. I wondered if Rose and Royce could cool it for a night so I could sleep in her room. More kids began filling the alley and hanging out like they just happened to be there at one a.m. with nothing better to do. Rose kept me close.

Suddenly, things happened all at once. Barricades came out of nowhere, pressing everyone back at the same time that the crowd coalesced to push towards that nondescript door. Bouncers flooded the alley and held the barricade in place. People pushed past me and I almost lost my balance, but I was suddenly pressed in so tightly that the crowd kept me on my feet.

One by one I caught glimpses of the Masens as they walked by. Girls thrust pieces of paper past me, begging for autographs and shouting their names.

Then a hush came over the crowd, followed by one shrill scream – a sentinel cry, perhaps. Everyone surged against the barricade in unison - a wave of adoration.

"Edward!" someone yelled. That was all it took. The crowd began screaming and pushing and jumping with renewed vigor.

"Do you see him?" I shouted at Rose.

"Just the top of his head," she replied as she stood on tiptoe and towered over me. "He's coming, Bella! He's coming!"

I tried to wriggle my way to the front of the crowd in time to catch him. I used my elbows. I stepped on toes. I'd just managed to grab hold of the barricade when he walked quickly by with his head held down. He was close enough for me to see the scruff on his jaw, but he was impossibly far away, all at the same time.

"Edward?" I asked, hanging onto the barricade, trying not to get trampled.

Amazingly, he stopped walking. His lips twitched. Girls around me squealed and reached for him.

"Edward?" I asked again. It seemed impossible that he'd hear me over all the commotion, but he looked. He turned and his eyes caught mine, and I sighed and died inside. He smiled. Girls swooned.

Suddenly Emmett was there, protecting Edward from the crowd. Edward tugged on Emmett's arm, whispered something in his ear and hurried on. Before I even had the chance to feel sorry that he was gone, Emmett reached over the barricade and pushed everyone out of my way.

Suddenly I was face to face with Edward's bodyguard's big, boyish smile, and his large hands encircled my waist. Without a word, he picked me up off the ground and swung me over the barricade.

"You okay with this arrangement, Trouble?" he asked me, placing me back down on the ground next to him.

I nodded as I scanned the crowd looking for Rosalie. She was arguing with two of the bouncers and pointing in my direction.

"Alright then, kiddo," Emmett said, and I couldn't help but think he sounded a little sad. He wrapped his strong arm around me and quickly ushered me past the crowd to a big, black sedan that was waiting in the alley.

"I'm gonna be back in just a few minutes, so keep your shirt on for me, okay?" he asked.

"What?"

Instead of answering, Emmett opened the car door, and there was Edward, literally on the edge of his seat. He held his hand out for me and practically pulled me into the back of the car. I stumbled and nearly hit my head, and before I knew it, the door was closed securely behind me.

Inside, the car was dark and cool, and the air felt electrified. I buzzed. The air crackled. The interior was lit with little blue lights at our feet… and Edward's bright emerald eyes. I held my breath.

"Where the fuck have you been?" he demanded, taking me by complete surprise.

"Excuse me?" I stammered.

"My last three letters were returned. I sent Emmett to your house and it was empty! Empty, Bella!"

"You sent Emmett… to my house?"

Edward's eyes looked frantic as they roamed over my body. I remembered Emmett's warning about my shirt and I wrapped my hands around my waist.

"Do you eat?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You're skin and bones. Kids… girls… are supposed to grow. Not shrink."

"I, uh…"

Edward was still looking me over, and try as I might, I couldn't read him for the life of me. He was strung like a live wire, tense and… something else I couldn't put my finger on.

"I thought you were away," I tried to explain. "My friend Rose told me about the show, and I almost didn't believe it because you wrote and said -"

"I needed to get back to New York," he interrupted. "I needed -"

The driver's side door opened and Emmett plopped into his seat.

"For fuck's sake," Edward scowled, pushing himself backwards and banging his head against the headrest.

Emmett glanced in the rearview mirror. "Clothing. Nice work," he said, winking at me.

Edward began tapping his foot impatiently on the ground.

"So, Daisy's?" Emmett asked.

"I don't think so," Edward barked in reply, closing his eyes, rubbing his temples.

"But Edward, they're expecting -"

"I don't think so!"

I jumped. Emmett sighed. "A drive, then?" he asked, resigned.

Edward blinked and gazed across the back seat at me; his eyes stalled somewhere below my face. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself a little tighter.

"Fuck," Edward mumbled.

"Edward?" Emmett asked, starting up the car. "Directions, man. I need directions."

"Eleazar," Edward barked, never taking his eyes off me.

"What?" Emmett asked.

"She needs food. Eleazar."

"I thought that was tomo -"

"E. Leaz. Ar! I'm being quite clear."

The divider rose and the last thing I saw was Emmett's reassuring smile. Honestly, I was glad he was there. Edward was… frightening, in a word. Sure, he was famous and hot and sitting right next to me, but he didn't seem like the same man that had written those intimate and insightful letters.

"I should be glad," he said as he turned and stared out his window. "I wanted you and you're here."

"What's Eleazar?" I asked.

"Where have you been?"

"Um, at school. At NYU."

"You should have told me, Bella. An address. Something. A fucking hint. To fucking run away and hide…"

"Sorry," I squeaked.

"It's irrational, of course," he seemed to say just to himself, shaking his head. "I'm nothing to you. You don't have to apologize."

"Nothing?" I asked, confused - because I'd spent most of the last three months thinking that Edward was the only person in the world that really mattered.

"Fucking nothing," he growled, and it was like a slap across the face.

"Don't say that," I begged, reaching across the seat to grab his hand.

My fingers touched his and this time Edward was the one to jump.

"Your letters make me sane," I tried to explain.

Edward laughed out loud and his fingers clutched at mine. I leaned against the seat and tried not to faint.

"Are you insane, Bella?" he asked, still staring intently out the window.

"Sometimes I think so. Most of Mastic Beach probably thinks so."

Finally he turned. Finally his eyes met mine. I had to remind myself not to lunge across the seat – that would surely be in bad taste.

"You didn't answer me about eating," he said quietly. Again, his eyes roamed. I pressed my thighs together. I ached.

"I eat. I… budget, though," I said quietly, completely embarrassed.

"You budget… with food?"

I nodded.

"No budget tonight, Bella."

The car slowed to a stop, and Emmett ushered Edward and I through yet another alley. The busboys smoking out back startled when they saw the three of us, and one ran quickly inside.

"Mr. Cullen?" a tall, dark-skinned man in a suit asked, meeting us by the back entrance. "Tonight? I though you'd be by tomor -"

"Do you have a table, Eleazar?" Edward asked.

"For you? Of course."

The restaurant was small and dark with secluded booths built into the oddly shaped little nooks and crannies and twists and turns of the interior. It was like a posh little maze that I could entirely imagine getting lost in. Once we were seated, Edward ordered about a month's worth of food without even looking at a menu… and a Tanqueray and a Coke. He didn't ask. He just ordered.

Finally, when our server left, Edward turned to me and smiled. His mood had lifted. My heart fluttered. His hand sought mine again, and I died a little inside.

"You," he murmured. "I was worried I'd never see you again."

"Really?" I think I whispered. I couldn't be certain about anything but his presence at that point in time.

"You were at the show?" he asked.

"You were so angry."

"So fucking angry," he laughed. "You have no idea."

"I have an idea. I saw it," I giggled.

"Trust your eyes to always cut through the crap and see the truth."

"And now you're here?" I asked stupidly. He was obviously there.

"For two days, then Europe or Asia or something."

"Wow."

"Yep," Edward agreed raising his eyebrows and taking a sip of the drink the server slid in front of him.

"Emmett thinks you're going to molest me," I blurted out

Edward promptly spit his drink across the table. A server appeared to set things right and dry Edward's spit.

"Emmett thinks I'm an asshole. He might just be right. But, rest assured, you're safe from molestation, Bella. I'd never…"

I probably should have felt relieved to hear that, considering Edward was about four years younger than my own father. I wasn't, though. The idea that he'd never consider… that, with me, made me feel a little desperate.

Edward didn't look entirely pleased, either. He glanced away from me, dropped my hand and took a long sip from his glass. I eyed my beverage askance.

"Coke?" I asked him.

"I can't have you drinking water. You need the sugar… the calories."

"Excuse me?" I asked.

I watched Edward clench his jaw. The muscles in his hand became so tense I was actually afraid he might break the glass he was holding, like the Hulk or some other superhero.

"Are you starving yourself?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"No!" Was I starving? I didn't think I was starving. I was hungry from time to time, but no more than I'd been this past year back at home. "But I'm, uh, jealous. You're drinking, and I've got this." I pushed my cola in front of his face.

"You can't drink, Bella."

"I'm pretty sure I can."

"You shouldn't."

"You're not my father."

"Does your father know how thin you are? Does your father know you think you can drink?"

"I don't know."

"I wouldn't mind having a word or two with your father."

I couldn't help laughing as I imagined that scenario. Edward would pull up in his limo outside my grandmother's house in Forks, Washington and Emmett would get out and open the door for him. I held my sides as I giggled.

"It's not funny, Bella! You were living with a boy, and drinking, and you're so skinny that I can practically see through you."

"Not to mention that I have a tendency to climb into cars with strange men that might molest me," I added.

"Precisely."

That stopped my laughter cold. Did he want to molest me? He said he didn't but…

"I worry," he said quietly.

"Why?"

He didn't answer, though. Our food was served, giving him an excuse to fall silent. I stared at the feast in front of me – the table was covered with upscale versions of standard American faire: macaroni and cheese, little burgers, meatloaf. Edward had ordered heavy, fattening things, and more than I could eat in three weeks.

"Eat. Make me feel better. I'll lay the fuck off your weight," he said pushing a plate in my direction.

I was hungry, so I followed Edward's orders, and true to his promise, he stopped acting like some weird, sexy dad. We talked about the album and it's success, and the changes it brought about in his life.

"Does it bum you out?" I asked, in between bites of the most delicious mac and cheese I'd ever eaten.

"What?" Edward asked.

"You know, I don't know… your songs are, like, on Long Island radio. That's different."

"Fuck if I care. If I went after this shit for the popularity, well, that would suck balls. But doing something I fucking love, something that I poured so much of… myself into, something so… different." His eyes met mine, my fork clattered on my plate. "I don't fucking care who listens, Bella. I get to perform that shit – sing it – get paid for it. It's fucking golden."

Neither of us said it, but I was pretty sure that I knew what Edward was trying to tell me. I'd done it too – I was part of that golden stuff he was talking about. He loved that album, at least partially, because of me.

"Where should I have Emmett drop you off?" Edward asked, taking my hand and leading me out of the restaurant after we were done with our meal.

I had nowhere to go, though. The library had been closed for hours. I'd need to stop at a pay phone and call Rose to get into her dorm, and that would look… odd. I didn't know what to say.

Edward stopped outside of the restaurant and took my other hand. For a second he looked young and vulnerable, and I had to hold myself back from going up on tiptoe and kissing him.

"Do you want me to leave you alone, Bella? I can leave you alone. I can. I think."

"No! I, uh… it's just -"

"Christ, Bella. What is it?"

"I live in the library," I mumbled, looking at my feet.

"Excuse me?"

"I stay… in the library," I said a little louder. "But it's closed now. I, uh… could maybe stay with Rose if I gave her a call first. There's security at the dorms and I can't just walk in. Not to mention that she's got this boyfriend and -"

"The library!" he thundered, and his voice echoed in the alley.

"By the microfiche," I explained.

"What the fuck is microfiche?"

"People use it for research and stuff."

Edward shook his head. Emmett appeared from around a corner, and he flicked a cigarette butt into a dumpster.

"Edward, Trouble," he said rushing to his station, holding the car door open for us. "Where to?"

"Take us home, Em," Edward said steadily. He slipped his hand against my lower back and pushed, indicating that I should climb in first.

"Where's Trouble's home?" Emmett asked.

"Take us home, Emmett," Edward repeated. I felt his rising frustration in the pressure of his hand and the tenor of his voice.

"What?" Emmett asked.

"You heard, me. Bella and I are going home. My home. Do I need to call a cab to make that happen? Or are you going to do your job and drive?"

Emmett clicked his heels together and shook his head. "You sure, Trouble?" he asked me.

I nodded my head as I climbed into the back of the car.

xXxXx

Present Day

"What about not taking anything back?" Seth asks, taking back his beer to drive his point home. "She's going to make mistakes. She's going to do things, stupid things. You can't protect her from everything, Bell."

"I know."

"It's all part of being a parent."

I lean against Seth's shoulder. "The whole 'do as I say, not as I do' thing, though," I try to explain.

"What are you worried about, Bell? That she's going to have a torrid affair with two gay dudes? That she's going to live in a library to pursue higher education?"

"Jake wasn't gay," I say. Seth playfully pushes me away.

"Not gay my ass," he mutters.

"Exactly," I say, cocking and eyebrow. We're in danger of another wrestling match, but I don't want to lose my train of thought.

"I'm worried that she's going to fall in love with a much older man and have her heart ripped out," I admit.

"And I repeat, would you take it back, Bell?" Seth asks, nudging me.

I sigh. "No. Never."

xXxXx

September 30, 1989 – What a difference a year makes.

Edward never slept with me. Don't get me wrong, he slept with me, as in the sex-kind of sleeping with me. He really slept with me that way, all the time: in the hall, against the wall, in the library, on the countertops. He was kind of insatiable. I can't say that I wasn't either. And one of the things about rock stars: they have the resources to go the extra mile and make your dreams come true.

This one time, a few weeks in, I was lying in his arms after sex, and staring out the window at the turquoise sky.

"I'd like to do it totally in the sunshine," I whispered. "Like, outside, but with no one watching."

Watch how fast a rock star will comply and have a screened-in enclosure with a retractable roof built on his rooftop patio: pretty damn quickly. So, yeah, he slept with me outside, on the roof, too.

But, back to sleep-sleep, true sleep, if you will. At first I never saw him sleep… at least, not with me.

The morning after we'd first had sex I was confused as I stumbled out of my bedroom in just a pair of panties, rubbing the crust from my eyes.

"Where'd you go?" I ask sleepily, finding Edward in the kitchen.

But then I learned about sex and breakfast, and the way Edward had of combining the two. It turned out that he had a thing for morning sex and the kitchen. I forgot all about my question after he sat me on the table, pulled off my panties, and half held me and half balanced my bottom on the table as he slowly fucked me.

Then he fed me a fruit salad. You guessed it – berries. To this day I still think it's the sexiest fruit around, in my humble opinion.

Edward and I became a cliché. We were that bohemian couple that walked around half naked, writing and composing and eating croissants. We fucked through the days and the nights, and sometimes, even in bed.

And one morning as we were lying naked on top of scattered sheet music and notebook papers filled with my messy writing, Edward pulled me on top of him and pushed the hair from my eyes. He looked suddenly, completely serious.

"I have to ask you something, Bella."

"What is it?" I asked as I settled myself on top of him, ready for another round.

"Today's my mother's birthday."

"Oh. Wow. Really?"

"Really."

Edward wrapped his arms around me, pulling my face closer to his.

"Are you going to see her?" I asked.

"I am."

"Oh."

"Would you come?" he asked hopefully.

I giggled. I wriggled. "Again?" I asked pressing his hips between my thighs.

Edward smiled and touched his nose to mine. "Very cute. I was talking about my mother, though. Would you come to her birthday dinner?"

"Really? You want me to meet your mother?"

"She'd like to meet you."

All of the implications of that statement ran through my head in a whirl.

"Yes!" I cheered, pulling myself to a sitting position. Edward watched my tits and bit his lip.

"Clothing required," he mumbled, cupping my breasts with his hands, pinching my nipples. "She's old-fashioned that way."

I pretended to pout, and may have rubbed up against him a little more than necessary, as I batted his hands away to go find clothing.

Edward clutched my ass, holding me in place. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To get dressed. No nudity at your mom's, right?"

"Eventually," he said, as a hand slipped downward, as his finger probed. "We can be fashionably late. No need to rush."

I did as Edward suggested. I took him slowly.

xXxXx

My breath caught in my throat when I realized exactly where we were meeting Esme Cullen for dinner.

"Eleazar?" I asked, as Emmett slowed the car in a familiar alley.

Edward shrugged. He was noticeably jumpy.

I put two and two together. "It was exactly a year ago when you… and I, when we... You were in town for your mother's birthday, weren't you?"

Edward nodded. "When I found you," he said.

"And you came back here the next day… when you left me at the apartment."

"I did."

"I'd figured you had a date."

Edward finally smiled. "A date with a much older woman. Come on, Bella. Let's go."

Edward's mother was small, like me, but with honey-colored hair done in a short, tight perm. She was also sweet and doting, and very soft-spoken. She couldn't look at Edward without smiling, and she touched him often, like she was making sure he wasn't just a mirage. I kind of knew the feeling.

"This is Bella?" she asked, grabbing my free hand. Edward had my other hand caught in a vice-like grip.

"This is Bella," I replied. "Bella is me!"

Edward coughed, hiding his laughter.

"He said you were funny," she quietly enthused.

"He did?" I asked, floored that Edward would speak of me at all.

"And pretty, too. My boy's not a liar. You're quite fetching," she said, smiling up at the boy that towered over her.

Dinner at Eleazar was completely different the second time around. Well, not completely, I guess. I still got the macaroni and cheese, but at least I was the one to order it. Edward smiled as he held my hand under the table. I slipped my foot up his calf to the back of his knee and giggled as I watched his fork scrape against his plate, momentarily losing his cool. We both chatted with his mother about the things we were working on: his music, my writing.

Edward's mother did a lot of watching. She seemed content to listen. More than content, really. By the end of dinner she was practically buzzing.

"Take care of my boy," she whispered in my ear when she hugged me goodbye.

I shook my head. "It's always been the other way around," I demurred.

Esme grabbed my hands. "He regards you so highly, Bella. Don't worry. Just remember that, okay? I know it's true. So should you."

"He regards me," I repeated, feeling out her words.

"I told him to be good to you, no matter what, but you know men."

"Well, no, not really," I admitted. "The only men I know are Edward, and maybe Emmett… and my dad. But even if I did know them, I think being good to me is requisite. Don't you?"

Maybe I should have taken Esme's silence as a warning. Maybe it's a good thing that I turned a blind eye. Maybe hindsight isn't always twenty/twenty, because I still have no idea what I should have done with such an ambiguous parting.

xXxXx

Present Day

"Even though I don't want to take anything back," I try explaining to Seth. "It still doesn't mean that telling her is the right thing to do."

"You kind of let the cat out of the bag, already," Seth replies. "I mean, you can't just say, I was totally kidding, Little One!"

"Maybe I'm giving her the wrong message."

"Bella, you know I was against this in the beginning. You know. I wasn't on board – at all. But, Bell, this… all of this… go with your gut, okay? What good has ever come of hiding the truth?"

"Not much," I agreed.

xXxXx

December 25th, 1997 – Either Rosalie needs to keep her mouth shut, or I need to start telling the truth. Maybe we could co-ordinate beforehand.

"I can't believe you just said that," I hissed, as I watched my fiancé brooding in the cold night. We were standing next to a crackling fire, surrounded by the warm glow of golden Christmas lights and bowers of holly. Rose could decorate for the holidays like nobody's business.

"What?" she asked innocently, joining me at the window.

"You heard me, Rosalie, and I think you know very well what you just did."

"You're marrying him, Bella. Shouldn't there be, like, full disclosure?" she asked.

I raised an eyebrow and cleared my throat. Rosalie shook her head.

"Royce knows about Emmett," she argued. She knew me well enough to guess what I was thinking before I even had to open my mouth. As if on queue, we watched Royce tramp out into the snow and offer Tyler a beer.

"Everything?" I asked. I highly doubted Royce knew everything. I had a feeling he drank more than he should in order to purge what he did know from his mind.

"Bella, Emmett and I are over, and Royce knows that. After… everything Emmett did. After the part he played in -"

I clutched my friend's arm, silently willing her to stop. I knew what Emmett did. I didn't need her to remind me. Luckily, Rosalie caught on quickly.

"I'm just saying, Bella, if Emmett came looking for me, I'd tell Royce."

"Edward and I," I began in a shaky voice. "We're… can't it just be mine, Rose? I don't want to share it with Tyler."

"You may not be sharing anything with Tyler after this. He just found out you've been keeping your hot little affair with a rock star a secret for the entire two years you've dated. He just learned this rock star's been sending you mail and meeting you in New York, and you haven't breathed a word."

"I told Edward to stop with the mail. I told him it was over. And it was the hardest thing I ever had to do, Rosalie!"

"It wasn't the hardest thing, Bella. Remember that."

My heart lurched. "I know."

Rosalie held me. She let me cry. We watched Royce motioning towards the house with his beer bottle. Tyler chanced a look in our direction and I hid my face against Rosalie's chest.

"Tyler loves me. He's good for me," I chanted.

"Is he going to make you happy?" Rose asked.

"He should."

xXxXx

Present Day

I tiptoe down the hall to my daughter's room. It's not that I don't trust Rosalie, but well, fine... I don't trust Rosalie. She always has my best intentions at heart, but subtlety is not her strong point. And I still haven't decided whether or not I want to try to put the cat back in the bag.

I pause just outside the door to my daughter's room.

"He liked Mommy a lot, right, Rosie?" I hear my daughter asking.

"I don't think I'm the best one to answer that question, Kiddo."

"But Mommy doesn't really say."

"He liked her," Rose agrees. I smile. Edward did like me.

"In the kissing way?" my daughter presses.

"You should ask -"

"Come on, Rosie!"

I hold my breath.

"Well, you're right - your Mommy's not one to kiss and tell. Believe me, I've tried… Yes, Kiddo, they kissed."

"A lot?" my daughter asks breathlessly.

"Well, if I had to guess, yes, they kissed a lot."

My daughter giggles. "I knew it."

"Okay, Kiddo. Go to bed, alright?"

"But, Rosie… what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that something happened. They didn't stay kissing together forever."

"Your Mommy didn't say?" Rosalie asks cautiously. I clutch the doorframe.

"I think she's scared to say it," my daughter whispers, like she's suddenly afraid I might hear.

"Your mommy doesn't like to talk about some things, little one. Not just kissing things. You should ask her. It's not my story to tell."

Rosalie's right – it's not her story. It's my story to tell.

Back in the beginning I'd thought this was such an ingenious plan: tell my daughter the story. I knew it would be hard, I knew there were unpleasant parts, but now I'm second guessing myself. I don't want to re-live the pain, and I don't want my daughter to feel my heartache, but an incomplete history is just a lie.

I decide to ask Seth and Rosalie if they wouldn't mind going home early. I need time to think.


A/N: Rob & I didn't plan the Comicon haircut around the chapter. Kristin thought it would be funny.

I'm always afraid I'll leave someone out, so I avoid names, but to the ladies that help me cling to my sanity, you know who you are - I appreciate you more than words. (Stop singing that song by Extreme).

And god, your reviews have been awesome! Seriously, thank you! And, you know, if everyone that has favorited this little story left one this week... I'd have twice as many. Let's go for it... what do you say?

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Until next week, xxx, M