AUTHOR'S NOTE: I just wanted to set the record straight on one thing before we begin: just because a person has suffered a traumatic brain injury does NOT mean that they are mentally incapacitated. It depends upon the severity of the injury as well as its location. Emily is aware of everything going on around her the majority of the time. She cannot verbalize most of her thoughts; she has limited movement in her limbs; she suffers from seizures. This does NOT, however, mean that she is a mental vegetable. In this story, she is completely aware, which is one of the reasons Edward refuses to take Jake's advice and walk away from her. It would be cruel for him to do that to her, and I could not love the Edward I created in this story if he were that selfish and uncaring. Also, if Edward wanted to marry her and she could give consent (which she can in this story), then the marriage would absolutely be legal.
Also, I want remind everyone that Saga Edward was a flawed character. Yes, we loved him dearly, and we loved how much he loved and cherished Bella, but we must acknowledge that Edward made many bad decisions when it came to her. He had good intentions, but he often made important decisions without even consulting her, always thinking that he knew what was best. Keep that in mind as you read this chapter.
Chapter 12: The Park
~ Thursday morning ~
EDWARD…
I hated shaving. Not because I was lazy or preferred the stubbled look to smooth, but because I was forced to stare at my own reflection while doing it. I avoided my gaze as much as possible while trying not to think about what I had to do in less than two hours. Hurting people was something I'd always tried to avoid, but I seemed to have gotten quite good at it the last four years.
"Hey! What happened to being old-fashioned and waiting for our wedding night?" I asked, as Emily slowly unbuttoned my shirt.
"There is no way I can wait four days."
Neither could I. We took our time undressing each other, lingering over each kiss, running our fingers over each other's skin. Despite the oppressive heat, we were cuddled close, the overworked fan in the corner blowing a tepid breeze throughout the bedroom.
"So, when it rains, the world is mourning a death," I said in between kisses. "What's the world doing when the temperature is in the upper 80's and the humidity is one hundred percent?"
She laughed. "The Quileutes don't have a profound explanation for that. It's just hot as hell."
She always had a way of making me smile, even when I was miserable. I tugged at her arm. "Come here, you."
She grinned and maneuvered her body over mine until she was straddling my hips, her long, lithe legs spread open, giving me a very enticing view. In a matter of moments, I was sliding inside of her. I gasped at the feel of her, so hot and tight.
She moaned as she took me deeper. "Mmmm, if God had a dick, this is what it would feel like."
I rose up and gaped at her, sputtering in disbelief. "Emily, that's sacrilegious! Don't say that!"
She pushed me back down on the bed and then leaned forward until her breasts were brushing against my chest and her mouth was hovering just inches away from mine. "God created sex and He didn't make it feel good by accident. He knew what He was doing. He understands."
I shook my head and laughed softly at her logical reasoning. "Just don't say that around my parents."
"Now that would be something to see, wouldn't it?" She giggled and began to move.
I looked at myself with disgust. It was wasted energy reliving that day. How many times had I gone over it in my mind the past four years? Too many to count, and every fucking time it ended the same way, with Emily lying on a gurney near death, her body broken and bleeding, and me trying to get to her while arms held me back. I'd wanted to hold her, thinking if I could talk to her, if she could hear my voice, then maybe she wouldn't die. But she'd been whisked away from me before I could say a word.
"That's over and done with," I snapped at my reflection in the mirror.
I needed to stop thinking of what couldn't be changed and concentrate on what I was going to say to Bella. I hated myself even more for the hurt I was about to inflict upon her, but it had to be done. I had to cut all ties, a clean break. I couldn't let her continue to think that there was something between us, no matter what I had to do to accomplish it.
"It's what's best for her," I whispered to the clean-shaven face in the mirror. My wants and needs were irrelevant now. I needed to remove myself from Bella's life completely and let her find someone else to love. The last thing she needed was someone like me, with all of my baggage, pulling her down.
"It's for the best," I whispered to the tired eyes looking back at me.
BELLA…
What did one wear to an official dumping? My bed was littered with discarded outfits, and my closet was nearly empty. And why was I getting so worked up over this? It wasn't like this was a date. His abrupt words on the phone had made that perfectly clear.
"We need to talk."
"What about?" As if I didn't know.
"Not on the phone. Can you meet me at the park Thursday afternoon, around one, near the duck pond?"
It was hot outside, so a sun dress seemed perfect for a conversation in the park. I held the frilly light blue number up to my shoulders and sneered. It made me look like Paris Hilton, minus the brain. I'd roast in jeans, and shorts and a halter top seemed too informal for a girl about to get the relationship middle finger. What I really needed right now was some black emo clothes to match the color of my emotions.
I'd spent a couple of weeks crying around my apartment, indulging myself in a pity party of mammoth proportions, with Alice bugging the hell out of me trying to find out what was wrong. 'What have I done to deserve being treated like this?' was all I'd thought. It had been nothing but boo-hoo city and 'woe is poor little old me' for over two weeks. But one day, I just stopped. I stopped the crying, stopped the moping, stopped the ridiculous feeling-sorry-for-myself shit. I just stopped. That's when the anger crept in.
I hadn't done anything to deserve this kind of treatment. I'd been nothing but good to this man. I'd loved him as best as I'd known how. This was obviously Edward's deal, not mine. He didn't want me, and once I accepted that, things began to improve. All that was left now was for him to admit it to my face and perhaps explain why I wasn't good enough for him. I wanted to see him say it.
I decided on a pair of blue mid-calf Capri pants and a plain white cotton t-shirt—nothing special, or seductive. I wasn't going to face him in full-out slut mode and try to make him regret his decision. My inner beotch, however, was a different story. She was wearing all black, with chains, and dangling safety pins for earrings, the whole nine emo yards. She was bad-ass in black lace and ready to rumble. She was my shield, my strength. I hoped I didn't disappoint her. Being pissed at Edward in my bedroom was much easier than being pissed while looking into those mesmerizing blue-gray eyes.
"You gotta help me out here, girlfriend," I whispered to my reflection in the mirror. "Don't let me make an idiot of myself in front of him. And whatever you do, don't you DARE let me cry or beg."
That's when the tears started. I stood in front of the mirror and watched myself break down. It's okay, Bella. Get it out now where no one can see. Get it all out. I did. I let it all out, cried until there was nothing soft left inside of me.
I took a deep breath, let it out, grabbed my keys and left.
He was sitting on a concrete bench near the walking path staring off into the distance. Even in profile, he was beautiful. His hair was mussed more than usual and he was dressed in what I'd come to view as his normal clothes: ratty jeans and a faded t-shirt. I had to force myself to remember that this was the man who'd shut me out of his life and who'd turned his back on something that could have been wonderful for both of us, and he'd treated me horribly while doing it.
I took a deep breath and walked over to the bench, sitting down beside him and staring off into the distance just like him. I sensed movement from him, maybe it could have been a flinch. I wasn't sure, since I refused to look his way. After several moments of silence, he stood up.
"Walk with me." Without waiting for me to agree or disagree, he strode off toward the trees that surrounded the duck pond. With no other alternative available, I followed him. He stopped near a cluster of hardwoods and stared off into the distance. We had yet to look at each other. I was dreading that moment when our eyes finally met.
The silence was dragging on far too long. I was way past ready to get this over with. "So, are we just going to look at the ducks all day or what?" That was the moment I finally turned and looked at his face, just in time to see the bones in his jaw clench tight.
He turned and faced me and his eyes were not the eyes of the man I'd known. They weren't mesmerizing and soft; they were hard, icy and empty.
"It's come to my attention that you've been upset because of me." His voice wasn't the velvet I was used to. It was cold and detached. The emo bitch in me rose up in reaction to his callous demeanor.
"And what reason would I have to be upset?" I snapped sarcastically.
"It's my fault, of course," he said, ignoring my smart-assed attempt to make him feel guilty. "I accept full responsibility for everything that has happened. I acted very unprofessionally on the night of your birthday, and for that I apologize."
He's apologizing for sharing his true self with me, for giving me one of the most special nights of my life? He's sorry for that?
"Leather and Lace has very strict rules regarding escorts and clients," he continued, his voice still as cool and detached as before. "There has to be a distance maintained between us and the women we service. I let you get too close to me. That was a mistake, my mistake."
Now he's saying it was all just a big mistake? "It didn't feel like a mistake to me. It felt very right at the time, and I think you felt the same way."
He shook his head and a tiny smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Being an escort is 99% acting, making the woman you're with feel special, even if she isn't, making her feel comfortable and at ease, making her feel attractive and wanted. I'll admit that you were an exception to that rule. You really were special and very beautiful. I wanted you so badly. I wanted to taste you and enjoy you before I-"
He stopped. I waited for him to continue his thought, but apparently he wasn't going to.
"Before you what?"
He totally ignored my question. I was starting to feel like I wasn't even part of this conversation, that he didn't care what I had to say about any of this, that my questions were irrelevant.
"I'm not the man you think I am. I led you to believe things about me that weren't true. I'm not lonely, nor am I damaged in some way and in need of a woman to fix me. Pretending to be vulnerable is a very effective way to get the women you want to fall into your arms. I'm not an escort because I need the money. I hook because I like it." He paused for effect. "I don't have a scholarship to Julliard, and I utterly loathe lasagna."
I wasn't prepared for the blow to the stomach that his words gave me. Never had I imagined the real Edward Cullen to be an arrogant, unfeeling man like the one standing in front of me. I burst into flames from the inside, my anger at being used so callously overwhelming my common sense.
I hit him hard across the face, the force of the blow sending painful stings throughout my palm and up my arm. I fought back the angry tears that were threatening to bring me down. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry and perhaps interpreting my tears to mean weakness on my part, when in fact they were an indicator of my fury.
He righted himself and stared impassively back at me, as if the flaming red welt on his cheek didn't even exist. I knew he had to be in as much physical pain as I was emotional pain, but it didn't show in his demeanor. I hated him even more for that.
"You played me," I said, my lips curling into a hateful sneer. "You made me feel beautiful and loved with your smooth words. You seduced me. You made me feel like I was special to you, like I meant something to you, like you loved me, and it was nothing but lies."
He nodded once. "Yes. As I said, this is my fault. I handled things badly. The fact of the matter is I gave in to my own selfishness when I shouldn't have. I never was available. I led you to believe that I was, but that was a lie, too." He hesitated, and I braced myself for whatever was coming. "I'm getting married this Sunday."
His confession sucked the breath out of my lungs, like I'd just fallen out of a tree and landed flat on my back. I was stunned and having difficulty processing the words that had just flowed with such ease out of his mouth.
"You have a girlfriend?" I stuttered in shock. "You're a prostitute and you have a girlfriend who's going to actually marry you?"
He smiled smugly. How could I have thought this man attractive? "Emily and I have a very unique relationship. It works for us."
That was a million shades of kinky, and something I'd never understand no matter how hard I tried. I thought I'd known this man I'd given my heart to, but I realized now that he was a stranger and always had been. He was a liar, a cheat, a man-whore with a fiancé as fucked up in the head as he was. I hated him.
"Do me a favor. If you see me out somewhere in public, pretend you don't know me. Don't look at me, and don't you dare speak to me. I'm going to go on with my life like you never even existed. You're the most despicable man I've ever known and probably ever will know. But I have one thing to thank you for: the education. I now know what a player looks and sounds like. No man will ever play me again, thanks to you. Have a nice life, Edward."
I thought I might have seen a flicker of sadness in his gray eyes, like his one tiny speck of conscience may have escaped and floated to the surface for a brief moment, but it disappeared as quickly as it came, if it had even been there to begin with.
I turned and walked away. I was done with Edward Cullen. The heartstrings were severed and raveled into a thousand useless threads. Time to move on.
EDWARD…
I sat on the park bench for awhile and watched the ducks swim and play. I envied them the simplicity of their lives. They ate, swam, slept, procreated and then died. No drama in between. No heartache. No self-loathing for all the mistakes they'd made in their lives. Simplicity. But watching nature didn't pay the bills. I was wasting time. I had to get home and get ready for work tonight. Another fuck, another dollar. I immediately regretted my selfish thoughts. That dollar and the thousands of others that went with it made sure my precious Emily got the best care available. I'd chosen my bed; I needed to shut up with the whining and lie in it. Emily had done nothing to deserve the life she was living now, but she certainly deserved my full attention. She was going to get it. I'd just made sure of that.
"What the fuck did you do?!"
Jake jumped my shit as soon as I walked in. He was livid. I'd never seen him so angry. No doubt Bella had talked to Alice and Alice had talked to him. I was not in the mood for this.
"I did what had to be done." I continued walking through the kitchen on my way to my bedroom and blessed quiet, but Jake had other plans.
"I just got off the phone with Alice!" he shouted, blocking my way. "She's furious! She called you every name in the book and asked me how I could have such a prick for a best friend. She's wondering what kind of guy I am, how I could stand up for someone like you, defend you. I mean, I listened to this shit for forever from her and there was nothing I could say to defend myself or you! What the fuck did you tell Bella? Did you explain everything like I told you to? Obviously not!"
"Shut up, Jake." I really wasn't in the mood for his theatrics, and he was answering his own questions anyway. If Alice got her ass bent out of shape and dropped him over something like this then she wasn't much of a catch to begin with.
"What did you say to her?!"
"I don't want to talk about it!" I pushed him out of my way, but the tenacious bastard blocked me again.
"You're damn well going to talk about! If you want to fuck up your own life, that's your prerogative, but you're NOT going to fuck up mine!"
I snapped. All the anger that had been simmering inside of me since the park erupted. I plowed my fist into his face. Blood spurted and he fell back against the wall.
"I did what I had to do!" I screamed at him. "I had to cut her loose, a clean break! I couldn't have her mooning over me when I'm committed to Emily! DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND THAT? I told her everything had been a lie and that I played her! I had to make her hate me! That was the only way! Do you think I enjoyed it? I DID WHAT I HAD TO FUCKING DO!"
I ran out of words. Jake was staring at me, shock and sadness showing through the blood. I realized I was crying, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I leaned back against the counter and let go. I just gave up and let go, let it all out. I'd fucked up everything in my life. It was my fault Emily had been injured, my fault my parents despised me, my fault I had absolutely no feelings of self-worth left inside of me, my fault I'd broken Bella's heart. I let it all go.
Next thing I knew, Jake was standing beside me, his comforting touch against my shoulder felt like a lifeline. He was the only person who understood all of this, and I was hurting him, too.
"I'm sorry, man. It's okay," he said softly and with no trace of anger left in his voice.
I let him talk. I let him try to comfort to me, to apologize for being selfish, to ask if there was anything he could do to help. I shook my head and apologized for hitting him. He laughed it off and joked about how my right hook was pretty damned good, but it wasn't really funny and we both knew it.
"I'm sorry my shit has come between you and Alice," I said. "Just tell her I'm an ass and that you've never been able to talk any sense into me, that you don't know why you're my friend. Agree with everything she says. I'll take the heat for this. Just get it off of you, so you can hold onto her."
"I'd rather not do that," he said, frowning. "I'd rather tell Alice the truth: that you're not a prick and that you're one of the most courageous men I know. That I respect the hell out of you and just want you to be happy."
"Fuck that and just do what I told you! Say whatever you have to say to hold onto her."
He shook his head. "I'm not doing that. No way."
"You're a stubborn asshole," I muttered.
He laughed. "That's the pot calling the kettle black."
I ignored that. "Is your nose broken?"
He reached up and felt it, his fingers coming away bloody. "Naw. It doesn't swivel like a barstool, so it's fine."
I sighed and straightened. "I have to get ready for work. It's one of my regulars tonight."
"Who?"
"Blanche."
He winced. "Damn, a paper bag night. Sorry."
I watched in silence as he wet a washcloth and cleaned his face. I had no idea what I'd done to deserve a friend like him, but I was thankful he was in my corner. He spoke his mind and told me the truth whether I wanted to hear it or not. I respected him for that.
"You still coming to my wedding?"
He glanced in my direction as he washed his hands in the sink. "Yep. I'll be there, busted lip and all."
I loved the guy. That was all there was to it.
"Thanks."
~ Sunday afternoon ~
Rosemary had outdone herself. Emily's room looked like a spring garden. All of her favorite flowers graced the tables or stood in the corners in decorative pots. The sun was shining in through the windows and my bride was just as radiant. I didn't know how Rosemary had accomplished it, but Emily's face glowed like she was lit from within. Her hair was woven into elegant braids against her head, with tiny sprigs of some sort of flower tucked in between the tight strands. The emerald silk of her new dress clung to her body, accentuating her natural curves. Despite the fact that she was immobile, her muscles practically useless, and sitting in a wheelchair, she was beautiful to me and always would be. I wanted so badly to gather her up into my arms and hold her, kiss her, make love to her, just once.
She was alert and responsive to questions. She knew what was going on. She knew were getting married. I sat beside her and held her hand as the preacher talked about love and commitment, about being there for each other through good times and bad, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. He should have realized that he was preaching to the choir, but I supposed it was all part of the official vows and couldn't be left out.
"Do you, Edward Cullen, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
I looked at Emily, and her eyes shown with such joy as I'd never seen. Her mouth twitched; she was smiling. I smiled back and squeezed her hand. "I do."
"And do you, Emily Young, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
A solitary tear streaked down her cheek. She made her sound for yes.
Jake passed me the rings. I slid hers on her finger, and then slid mine on myself. I wiped the tear from her cheek and smiled. "That better be a happy tear," I whispered to her, playfully frowning.
Her eyes danced and she made her sound for yes.
The preacher pronounced us legally wed.
With my thumb, I wiped away a bit of saliva that had pooled in the corner of her mouth, and kissed her, a soft kiss, warm, but lacking the fire that had always been between us. I wanted more, and I was sure she did, too, but this was what we had.
"Congratulations guys!" Jake's grin lit up the room. "Let's get the hugging out of the way so we can eat!"
There was laughter and enough hugs to go around for both me and Emily, from Jake, Rosemary and the other nurses who took care of her. There was food, even though I hadn't ordered any. Rosemary was most likely the culprit behind that. We ate and talked and finally everyone left, leaving me and Emily alone.
We sat with hands clasped together, and watched the sun set outside our window.
"The sky is beautiful."
She made her sound for yes.
"I love you, Mrs. Cullen," I said quietly, giving her hand a good squeeze.
She looked up at me with those beautiful, expressive eyes. "Uhh…v…" she answered back.
And they lived happily ever after…
AUTHORS's NOTE: This is not the end of the story.
