A/N: Surprise! I'm posting early. If you want to know why, please read the A/N at the end. If you don't really care, don't worry about it. :)

Sooo many questions floating around, aren't there? Unfortunately, they can't all be answered in one chapter. Remember, we're not even half way through yet!

Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes. (Though I tinker through to the very end, so all remaining mistakes are mine).

Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is all mine.


Chapter 12 – Brick Walls

Edward

When I step out of the cab, she's already there, and I curse under my breath for two reasons:

The first is because although I'm ten minutes early, she's beat me here.

The second is because she's a throwback to the Bella of my youth: tight, ripped jeans and black tank top, dark hair loose and wild around her shoulders. She's even got on Doc Martens. My chest literally constricts as I approach.

When I stop in front of her, her eyes roam up and down my frame, taking in my plain, white tee, dark jeans and Converse. Those deep, brown orbs of hers stand out as they always have from under long lashes, in the middle of creamy, flawless skin. But when she meets my gaze, those eyes give nothing away, not even when a grin spreads across her perfect mouth.

I reach out and instinctively take her hand in mine, exhaling in relief when she doesn't pull away. When I move in and brush my lips against her soft cheek, her familiar scent washes over me, threatening to overwhelm my senses. She's still grinning, a cool and confident grin, when I back away, and I wonder if she's anywhere near as nervous as I am.

"I'm sorry if I had you waiting in the heat," I say because I am sorry, but at the same time, I'm enjoying the thin sheen of moisture making her shoulders glisten.

"That's fine. I have a habit of arriving early everywhere."

We hold one another's gaze, and I'm not sure if we're in the present or the past. Either way, she's still made no effort to remove her hand from mine, and I'll take that as a good sign.

"Have you ever been here when you've been in New York?" She jerks her head towards the beat-up door behind her.

"No, but I've heard of it."

"Good. Are you ready?"

It's a fairly innocuous question asked in reference to a seemingly innocuous invitation – but I know there's more going on here. Despite the time that's passed, I once knew the woman before me intimately. I knew her likes and dislikes. I knew what made her happy and what made her sad. I knew what drew her to me…and I knew how to push her away.

"Yes, Bella. I'm ready."

She's changed, yes. But every moment I spend with her, I not only get to know this Bella, but I also see the Bella of the past seeping through. For example, her quick swallow confirms that despite how in control she seems, some part of her is uneasy. And I know I'm willing to do whatever it takes to change that.

We remain stock still and locked in one another's eyes. "Good to know."

OOOOOOOOOO

The venue is small with dim lighting and a bar all the way in the back. We're led to a table for two, and after the waitress comes by for our drink orders, we turn our attention to the band on stage. The set has already started: young guys, whose raw acoustics are yet another reminder of those days when the woman sitting next to me and I were so very young.

When I turn my eyes to Bella, she's bouncing in her seat to the beat of the music. Another echo of a memory runs through my head of my seventeen-year-old girlfriend and me, rocking out to Eddie Vedder in that all-important year when our love seemed indestructible.

I smile at the memory, and she turns her eyes to me. "What?" she mouths.

I take her hand again, weaving our fingers together. She stares at our joined hands for a couple of seconds before lifting her eyes back toward me.

"Just reminiscing." Drums and guitars explode around us, so I move my mouth around the words with emphasis, tapping my temple with my free hand.

She nods silently.

"They're pretty good," I mouth, jerking my chin towards the stage.

"They are," she agrees.

We listen for a couple of minutes, her soft, warm hand still enclosed within mine. When I move in close to her, she meets me halfway.

"I spoke to Anthony earlier today," I whisper in her ear, and in the dim glow of the overhead lights, I think I see the smooth skin on her neck prickle. It's all I can do not to move in another inch and brush my lips across it.

Before I can give in to temptation, she nods and turns into my ear. "I spoke to Ness."

I meet her unreadable eyes for two seconds before moving back into her ear. "Everything work out okay?"

"As well as can be expected. And with Anthony?"

"Yes. He really admires you, Bella."

We pull back, and her enigmatic eyes hold mine as she nods before returning her attention to the band. Still, she can't be as focused on them as she seems because every half a minute or so, our eyes meet. For the twentieth or so time since we arrived, I wonder just what the hell is going through her head, if her thoughts are anywhere near as jumbled as mine. The band on stage shifts into a rendition of a classic and my eyes once more turn to Bella.

We were already history when this song was part of the present, yet I'd think of her whenever the college stations played it.

Sure enough, she whistles through her teeth and throws her hands up over her head, clapping and grinning, brown eyes sparkling, and I'm…devastated by the deluge overwhelming me while at the same time strangely euphoric of the fact that I'd always known she was most likely somewhere loving this song.

"I love this!" she mouths, confirming the fact.

"In the sun

In the sun I feel as one.

In the sun. In the sun!

Married!

Buried!

I wish I was like you, easily amused!"

When the song ends, and before the next one begins, I draw in a deep breath and angle myself towards her again.

"It's a great song, but you and I knew about him way before the world at large had any idea who he was."

She smiles wistfully. "You had good taste in music back then; I'll give you that much. I was living in Paris when he died, but I cried for days. What a waste."

"I thought of you when I heard the news. I figured wherever you were…you were probably heartbroken."

"I was. It was like…another nail in the coffin of a sad past."

Again, I'm left wondering if she's referring to the sad past of a young artist with an extinguished future…or the sad past of a love which once held so much promise.

We hold one another's gaze and then turn back to the band. When the set is up, there are a few minutes before the next band takes the stage. We order a couple more drinks, and I take advantage of the intermission to return my complete attention to Bella.

Greedy fucker that I am, this time, I take both of her hands in mine, weaving our fingers together. I only notice the hitch in her breath from the slight heave of her chest, the top swells of her breasts almost peeking out from over the top of her shirt – but not quite. I wonder if she remembers that we used to hold hands like this all the time, if she recalls how her hands always fit so perfectly inside of mine.

I curse myself for forcing her to forget it all.

She looks down at where our fingers lay tangled. "No one has held my hands like this in…a while."

"Does it bother you when I take your hand, Bella? When I touch you?"

There's a debate going on inside her head acknowledged by the way she worries her bottom lip, by the manner in which her eyes remain glued to our hands before she lifts her gaze back to me.

"Edward, whatever this is, it needs to proceed slowly."

Her husband has only been gone for two years. I don't want to rush her, but how do I pretend she's someone who I didn't once know intimately, someone with whom I didn't once share both body and soul?

You go slowly when you don't know the way. We've been there; we just need to find our way back.

"Slow is a relative term."

She laughs at me, but there's something else there before she quickly turns away.

I sweep my eyes around the venue to calm my racing heart.

"This place is great, Bella. I'm glad you suggested it."

"It's not exactly the Seattle grunge scene of our youth. We've got wine and cheese instead of warm beer and fries."

"It's terrific. Besides, we're not those kids anymore."

"No, we're not." Her eyes search mine. "You know? No one else shares my love for this scene. Ness and your son prefer the trendier New York clubs. Ditto Alice, who's into hip hop and whatever the current radio hits are. Everyone else is into similar junk."

"How about Sam? Did he like it?"

"No." Her smile softens. He was her husband, and her love for him echoes in that one word, and it…breaks my heart and makes me so happy and proud of her all at once.

"Sam shared his sister's taste in music – crappy."

We both laugh.

"When Sam and I first moved back to the States," she continues, "we tried out a few different scenes and ended up here with some friends one night. Like I said, Sam wasn't into what they then labeled Alternative," she smirks, "so we didn't return. Once Alice moved down, I tried converting her to my side, but she hated it just as much as her brother."

The second act shifts into its set. We listen for a couple of minutes, and then I lean into Bella again.

"So since Sam…?"

She narrows her eyes, but when they widen, I know she understands the rest of the question.

"Jay came with me once. He actually seemed to enjoy it."

"Of course, he did," I smirk.

Bella chuckles. "I only invited him the one time."

"How come?"

With a deep sigh, she curls a finger, inviting me nearer. Our faces are so close, and her deep eyes are almost enough to put me into a trance. When her lips begin moving, I'm half hypnotized and completely ready to feel those lips on mine.

"Because he talked too much and didn't let me hear."

When she pulls away, her brow lifts meaningfully.

Despite the jab, a low chuckle escapes me. "All right, all right. I get it."

OOOOOOOOOO

"This area here has a different vibe from midtown."

We left the club about a half hour ago, and now we're walking up and down the streets of the Lower East Side with its colorful nightlife, boisterous crowds, and pleasant and not-so-pleasant scents. We talk about mundane subjects. The entire time, we're hand in hand. I'm somewhere over the fucking moon because this is moving along better than I could've ever hoped.

"That's what I love about living in this city. You walk a few blocks, turn a corner, and you're in a completely different land from the one you just left. LES is…grittier than much of the rest of the city. People around here are still real, still trying to figure themselves out."

"You connect with that."

I'm learning things here. In some cases, I'm relearning. Bella has changed. From the bits and pieces she provides of her husband, I get the impression that although he wasn't exactly a snob, he was higher on the food chain and not exactly one to rough it. She's got a great address in New York City. She enjoys good, vintage wine. She's not the Seattle Bella of my glory days.

But I'm not that guy either.

"Lately, I feel as if I do." She sighs, her gaze steady and level before her. "I'm trying to figure out a lot of things of late."

I stop walking and pull on her hand to halt her too. She stops, but it takes her a few moments to look at me.

"Bella, you can ask me anything you want."

Again, she searches my eyes. "Edward, I should've asked this up front, but…do you have a girlfriend?"

It's a kick in the gut – that she'd feel the need to ask that after I've been pursuing her since more or less the moment I saw her in that restaurant. But I get; I do.

My answer is quick and emphatic. "No, Bella."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"I'm seeing you."

She smiles, but there's no humor behind it. The city lights reflect off of her dark and wary eyes.

"Are you seeing anyone other than me?"

"No, Bella." I take a step closer, fully aware of the way her chest heaves, dreading the fact that it's likely not excitement at my proximity. "Have I dated since my divorce? Yes. Have I had any serious relationships? A couple which may have had potential, but…that final connection simply wasn't there - for either party. My last date was…" – I look up at the darkened city sky and start counting because I want to give her as accurate an answer as possible – "right before Christmas. She was a friend of my friend's ex-wife. We went to a seafood restaurant on the bay, had a decent time, but nothing worth a second date – for either of us."

"And that's it since December?"

Under normal circumstances, the third degree would piss me off right about now. But...I fucked up on this woman once, and although it's been over twenty years, that's her last memory of me.

"That's it," I shrug.

She nods, yet the way she presses her lips together leads me to think that there's more…much more…

"What?" I palm her soft cheek, wanting so much to skim my lips across her smooth face the way I did last night. But I get the feeling…

"Bella, you can ask me whatever-"

"I haven't been with anyone since Sam's passing. Well, yesterday-"

"Family Friend?" I quirk a brow.

She chuckles at the mention of him, which all things considered, I'll take as a good sign. "Yes, Jay. I suppose he was my first semi-date since Sam."

It's instinctive when I wrap my hands around her waist. Her breath hitches, and I ache to run my hands up and down her body. But though she doesn't push me away, neither does she reciprocate. Her hands remain at her sides.

"May I ask something that may be a bit personal, and perhaps at this point, none of my business?"

"You can ask; it doesn't mean I'll answer."

"Did Family Friend kiss you?"

Her perfectly groomed brow arches. "He was getting there."

My jaw clenches together, but I say nothing. Yet the way she shakes her head and gives me a rueful grin makes me think she knows. Perhaps she remembers some of my tells too.

When she lifts her hands and finally rests them over mine, my heart races. The city moves around us, but we might as well be on an island for two.

"All right, Edward. Now I'm ready to ask things which may be…personal, but I believe are completely my business."

"Go ahead, Bella. I'll answer whatever you want."

Her soft, timeless features harden. "What was the deal back then? Why, when you once swore to love me forever, did I walk in on what I walked in on?"

OOOOOOOOOO

Bella

May 1991

Before walking in, I tilted up my head and took in the grey, south tower residence hall, its shade blending perfectly with Seattle's late afternoon grey skies. Voices and laughter floated in the air all around, guys and girls circumventing me: headphones in ears, Walkmans and books in hand, gossiping while walking or studying on the go. There was a wonderful synergy to their flow; a rhythm known only to these students all performing different tasks yet wired together in a sisterhood and brotherhood of like minds determined to formulate their own way in the world. A sense of awe filtered through me; awe for their freedom, for their liberty to voice opinions and have them heard, and for their ability to make their own decisions. In a few months, I was supposed to be part of all I was beholding, yet in that moment, I felt extremely young and out of place.

I swallowed back the queasiness I'd been feeling all day, the ache and discomfort that had accompanied me on the plane ride over most likely caused by what I was here to say in combination with…well, in combination with what I was here to say.

With a deep breath, I walked into the building. The large lobby greeted me with more students lounging around, playing board games on the floor or on tables, and practicing chopsticks on a grand piano in the corner. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows was a partial view of grey Lake Washington with the mountains standing majestically behind.

There were two young men manning the front desk, yet as I approached to ask for him and to see if I needed to be announced, they paid me no mind, too engrossed in the card game they were playing behind the desk and apparently unaware that I was an interloper in their midst, which was fine; he'd given me his dorm room number months ago.

So as I took up the steps to the fourth floor, I practiced for the thousandth time how to verbalize what I'd come to say, what I'd already waited too long to tell him…so long that the words felt like bricks ready to tumble from my mouth. Pretty soon, words wouldn't even be necessary.

My heart raced, and my nerves made the ache I'd been feeling all day even more pronounced. In the middle of the floor, I passed a small lounge and paused to look in. A group of four were gathered on the couch watching TV. One of them, a tall and brawny guy, familiar from a picture I'd seen a couple of months earlier, peered up and gave me his own look of semi-recognition.

"Can I help you, hon?"

I cleared my throat. "I'm looking for Edward…Masen?" I added.

He nodded slowly, pausing a beat before responding with a wide grin. "Yeah. Yeah, Ed's in the room all the way at the end of the hall, babe."

"Thank you," I said, smiling faintly.

Laughter and whispered voices melding with the hum of the TV followed me, fading further into the background as I left the lounge behind and neared the room at the end of the hall. Then other strange sounds took over.

Strangely enough, when I pushed open the door, what I found didn't immediately register as anything out of the ordinary: nothing more than a couple on the floor, mouths and limbs entwined. He had one of her hands pinned over her head while she scratched the other down his bare back, leaving red welts in her nails' wake. Her long legs were wrapped around his hips, and it was she who was making the sounds. As I stood there, I felt almost like an uninvited voyeur, like a numb peeping Tom.

When she moved her free hand down to the waist of his sweatpants, he pulled back, and it was she who upon opening her eyes, found and held my gaze. Out of my periphery, I could see his heaving chest, but I couldn't actually bring my eyes to him, not yet, not even when he finally turned…and froze.

Because in my mind, I was already rearranging my priorities; I was making plans, which wouldn't include him any more than necessary. And when I did open my mouth, the brick that fell out was as impenetrable and indestructible as the wall he'd been the first to erect between us.


A/N: Thoughts?

So tomorrow is my Little Man's Eight Grade Graduation, and I'll be busy all day. First at the graduation early in the morning, then we're going to go watch Liam Hemsworth (aka Sam Laurent's hot brother, lol) save the world in Independence Day, and then we're going to dinner. So, I figured I'd just give you guys tomorrow's update today. :)

Also, apparently, I didn't do a good job last A/N in answering the question: Why does Anthony sometimes call his dad "Ed?"

A: It's just a thing he does! Kind of being a smart-ass sometimes. I know I do it with my parents sometimes (as long as they're in good moods). But…that's all it is. Just a silly thing.

Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.

Twitter: PattyRosa817

Have a great weekend!