We're both staring at the mess on the bed. I kind of want him to open the velvet box. I'd never even seen the ring.
He picks it up and I step closer, but he doesn't open it.
He chucks it across the room and it hits the wall with a hollow-sounding thwack. Not very satisfying at all.
"Marry me," he kind of spits out then laughs at himself while his fingers tangle in his hair.
He leaves the ring and the bloody clothes and goes to the desk and yanks open the bottom drawer.
He pulls out a manila envelope and rips it open.
He pulls out some papers and just leaves them on top of the desk and I look down as he walks away.
The deed to the house.
"Edward, what the hell are you doing?" I ask and follow him to the living room where he snaps open his laptop, then paces while he waits for his email to load.
"June eighteenth," is all he says and I start to get nervous, because he has his focused, intense look on and there is a plan and definite intention in his head.
And I'm pretty sure I know what it is.
The computer takes too long to load and he tears back into the bedroom and grabs his wallet from on top of the dresser.
He flips it open, taps his driver's license once, and then he does something very curious.
He opens the top drawer of the dresser and nestled in his socks, where it always is, he picks up his never-used Platinum Mastercard, then he digs under the socks and produces his passport.
Then he shoves it in his back pocket.
"Uh. Are we taking a trip?" I ask, trying to stay calm.
"I.D., I.D., I.D.," he says, tapping his wallet twice and his back pocket once.
"Identification?" I ask, shaking my head. "Edward, what the hell are you doing?"
We go back into the living room and he tells the computer to fuck off then reboots it.
"I hope you're ready to apologize. It fucking stinks in here, by the way."
I look up and Emmett is there, lingering by the couch.
"Emmett—"
"What's his deal today? He looks like shit," Emmett says.
"I don't know… I don't know what he's doing," I say. "He has his passport and a credit card and he put the deed to the house on our desk and — I don't know what he's doing!" I say, my panic increasing with each word.
"He's doing what people in mourning do," Emmett says and waves his hand dismissively at Edward. "Listen. Tell me you're sorry already. I'm bored as hell, but I still have pride."
"I'm worried, Emmett— he's thinking something. He's planning something. Big. Like, imminent."
"After we figure this out, you have to say sorry to me," Emmett says, then he peers over Edward's shoulder at the computer screen. "Okay, what do we got? He looks rather unkempt today—"
"He has just been laying here for days and do you know what today is?" I ask Emmett.
"Of course I know what today is," Emmett says stiffly.
"And then he just got up, like, out of nowhere, and he threw the engagement ring I never even saw and he gets a credit card and his passport and Edward, I mean, he just wouldn't randomly decide to take an international trip. He's a planner. And then he puts the deed to the house on the desk. He just left it there. And now—"
"Now he's emailing Jane," Emmett says.
We both stare at the screen as Edward composes an email to Jane.
"What the fuck is that? Some kind of crazy code or—"
"No. Passwords," I say no sooner than Edward types out a description for the password.
Then four more.
At the end he jots a quick note to Jane.
"Access to everything. All of my projects are now yours. Edward."
"What? No," I say. "He doesn't… he lives for that job now."
Edward slams the top on his computer and Emmett turns to me, expressionless.
"His family doesn't live close to here, do they?" he asks.
"No. Why?"
"Does he have any friends? Anyone close to him— look, who is his in case of emergency person or—"
"What? I mean… why?"
"Because when I had that accident, Bella, they contacted my next of kin to identify my body because I wasn't carrying any identification. He knows nobody here and he's loading up on ID—"
"I don't understand," I say, but I do.
"He's left the deed to the house on the desk. He just handed over the last thing he cares about to Jane."
"He made me a promise," I blurt out.
Edward stares down at the closed computer for a few seconds then presses his fists into his eyes.
"What? What did he promise?" Emmett asks.
"That he'd find a way to make us work. And be together. Always," I whisper and Emmett's shoulders sag and his eyes close.
"We have to go. Find Alice. And fast," Emmett finally says.
"She won't do anything—"
"She might. For something like this, she might. He might not believe her, he might not listen to her, but fuck it. Bella. You gotta try."
"Try what?" I ask and Edward picks up a pen next to the computer and goes in search of something else.
"What do you mean, try what? Only days ago you were begging her for anything— if he's going to do something stupid— she's our only hope to stop him. You have to try."
"I… don't think it will work," I say slowly and Emmett's eyes harden into a cold stare on me.
"You don't want to stop him," he accuses and I turn my face from him, because maybe he's right.
"He promised," I say, and I'm aware I sound like the most horrid, indignantm selfish brat to ever have existed.
"You can't be serious," Emmett hisses. "What the hell is the matter with you?"
"If you thought Rosalie was on her way… if you thought that she was so close… would you stop her?" I ask.
Emmett sets his chin to his chest and his brow furrows at me and when he speaks, his voice is low and harsh.
"I would do everything I can with what little power I have to stop her. I want that girl to live as full and as happy as anyone has ever lived. I want her to have everything this world has to offer before she's done here, and that call isn't hers or mine to make. Just like it wasn't yours and it's not Edwards. And I want that for her because I love her. And I know she'll come to me. But I can wait, because that, Bella, is what you do when you have faith and love."
"But maybe I could have it all…" I say and Edward has come back with a sheet of loose leaf paper and starts hastily writing.
"Fine. Stay here, live in your fucked up, Romeo and Juliet, sick, selfish world. I'm going to find Alice."
I look down at the note Edward wrote.
"Dad. I'm done. I'm sorry. Edward."
Emmett flinches and holds out his hand to me.
"Help me find her. Please, Bella. Help me find Alice. You know. I know you know the right thing," Emmett says.
Then, in perhaps the oddest part of this already fucked up day, Edward goes back in the kitchen and we follow.
In silence, we watch him open the freezer, take out what must be a very old frozen pizza, rip the box open and toss it in the oven, with a dull clank.
"What the hell is he doing?" Emmett asks to nobody.
"Our oven always burned the bottom of frozen pizzas. We never figured out why," I answer, monotone and numb.
"What the—"
"That's what I was going to make. The last night," I shrug.
Edward sets the timer for twenty-seven minutes and then places his palms on the stove top and hunches over with his eyes closed.
"We have twenty-seven minutes," Emmett says.
"It won't…"
"Prove yourself, Bella. Today. Right now. You either believe him or you don't. Don't force his hand."
I stare at Edward, and I can almost feel him under my fingertips again.
I can almost taste his lips and his skin and I can almost feel him on top of me and I can't wait to laugh with him again and fight with him again…
But I know I have to wait.
Rather, I know what the right thing to do is. Unfortunately, I don't necessarily want the right thing… but I had to at least try.
"Let's go," I say to Emmett.
Dear Bella-
I'm done. I'm selfish and I miss you and I'm done.
There'd better be Bombay there, wherever it is I'm going.
-Edward.