A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts. And thank you for all your congrats on my son's graduation! I had a crazy weekend between that and parties and summer barbecues…but now I'm back.

Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.

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

Chapter 13 – Courting Ghosts

Bella

May 1991

He staggered to his feet, supporting his weight with an unsteady palm resting on the small, rumpled bed from which I assumed they'd fallen. His bare chest heaved, heavy breaths sickeningly loud in the sudden stillness of the room. Rose-colored blotches, which usually appeared on his skin when he was agitated, now traversed his torso like a wayward Connect Four board. He raked a hand through his wild hair, peering at me through dull, glassy eyes narrowed into slits as if he was still trying to figure out who exactly stood before him.

"Bella?"

Meanwhile, the other one, the one from the picture…from the phone…she sat on the floor smoothing back her long, strawberry-blond hair while adjusting her clothing. Her eyes shifted restlessly from me, to Edward, and back.

And I brought my eyes back to Edward's empty ones – eyes which had once been so beautiful and vibrant in my mind, eyes which I'd been hoping…

When he reached out, I took a step back to keep him from touching me, from poisoning more than my heart.

"Bella…Bella, please. Please, let me…it's not what you-"

"Isn't it?"

My chest ached as badly as the rest of me had been aching all day…maybe even worse. And…and I wanted him to ache too.

So when he took another step forward, his hand so close to me, I forced the silent tears to stop falling, and I straightened my spine and lifted my chin.

"Bella…Bella baby, I-"

"I came to tell you that I'm going to Paris. I'm leaving, Edward. I thought you should know."

For a few endless moments, his hand remained suspended in mid-air, shaking in the handful of inches between us, a compact space which may as well have been an unbridgeable chasm. Finally, it fell back to his side with a loud thud, curling into a strained knot that turned his knuckles white.

"You came…" he ran the curled fist through his hair and dug it deep into his scalp, his speech halting as if I'd spoken some foreign language he was still attempting to decipher, "you came all this way to tell me that?"

"Yes." The lie fell from my mouth easily, with no hesitancy whatsoever. And her…she was still in my periphery, but I refused to allow my eyes to stray in her direction or acknowledge her in any way. This was no longer about her - or even him for that matter. It was about safeguarding what I had left.

"Yes, I figured you deserved to hear it in person."

He kept staring at me, appearing somewhat dazed and unbalanced while he fisted his hair over and over and scrubbed it down his face, passing it back and forth over his jaw.

"All this time…all this time…" His eyes darted around the room as if he were speaking mostly to himself, his head bobbing so vigorously that in any other circumstance, it may have been comical. "Thank you for being so thoughtful, but it really wasn't necessary for you to make this trip."

"So I see."

"Yeah." He took a step away from me, nostrils flaring. "Yeah, you should go. You should definitely go. You worked so hard for it, and there's obviously nothing worth you staying here for."

The ache in my chest intensified. "Obviously, there isn't."

"There's nothing here for you, Bella. You're better off over there. There's nothing worth you staying for. Yeah, yeah, you should go. You should just go."

He echoed it over and over, his voice a careless, emotionless monotone. And part of me…part of me wanted to lunge myself at him, throw myself into his arms and tell him…

But the rational part of me, the one who had to remain steady and in control, the one who had to think like an adult rather than like an impetuous child, knew that now was no longer the right time. There and then, I would've spit the words at him. I would've hurled them like poison, like bricks meant to hurt and punish him for what I'd found.

"You should go, Bella."

When I could again think logically and reasonably, when my heart and my body stopped aching, I'd call him…or write him…and assure him that nothing need change in his life.

"Goodbye, Edward."

OOOOOOOOOO

Present

"She…was one of the first girls I met when I went off to college - a friend of my roommate, Emmett."

"Were you attracted to her from the start? Now be honest." I smile faintly and run my hands up and down his arms to set him at ease – barely even noting the fact that he still has nice, muscularly firm arms, by the way; I simply want the truth here. This entire evening has been about easing him into the truth.

"It's been twenty-five years. I can deal with the answer."

"I thought…she was attractive."

The sharp pang in my chest caused by his five-word answer takes me by surprise. All these questions have had years to roll around in my head, and I've already provided myself answers for many of them.

Muscular arms notwithstanding, the soothing motion of my hands comes to a complete halt. He must sense my mood shift because he takes a step back, drops his hands from my waist, and shoves them into his pockets instead. A wise move, all things considered.

"But I had no intention of doing anything, Bella. I fully intended to remain faithful to you while in college."

"The road to hell…" I trail off. "She liked you from the very beginning. I remember the time I called your dorm, and she took the phone from you." I grin wryly. "I tried to be all grown-up and laid back about it to prove to you that I could be mature about this boyfriend-away-in-college-and-having-female-friends thing - to prove that I trusted you."

"Damn." His face pales under the bright city lights. "I sure as hell proved you wrong, didn't I?" The self-deprecation in his tone is at impressively supreme levels, but like I said, my soothe him mood is out the window.

Instead, I cross my arms against my chest, going for cool as a cucumber when really, they're a barrier.

"I heard it in her voice while we spoke - her being friendly to prove something of her own, I suppose. Did you know she liked you, Edward?"

He nods slowly, swallowing. His gaze wanders to the space between us, deep lines of guilt marring his forehead.

"I knew, but like I said, I had no plans to act on it."

"Until I told you I was accepted into AUP."

His eyes flash back to me. "Not even then, Bella. That winter, I had a talk with my dad. Now he was never much of an advice giver – more like one of those dads who worked, came home, watched the game, and swore he was fulfilling his duty to country and family. But I was desperate; I mean, if you can't count on your dad for good advice, who can you count on, right?"

I have no answer for him.

He chuckles humorlessly. "Bella, you told me about Paris one damn week before I left for college, like you'd been waiting, biding your time, and it circled around my head like a vulture for that entire school year."

"And your dad's advice was to man up and have your fun in school because that's what I'd be doing," I sneer.

He gives me a contrite shrug, rubbing his angular jaw hard with the palm of his hand, a nervous habit he's always had. "Then in school, my buddies, Emmett and James, more or less said the same as my dad - that I was being a pussy," he snorts.

"Peer pressure," I clarify, nodding. "I've always tried to keep Nessie from bowing down to it. So go ahead. You went for it."

"No, Bella. In February, when I went to see you in Phoenix, you were different."

"Because you were different!" I take a step closer because I'm not letting him get away with that shit. "You were distant and apathetic."

"I was never apathetic when it came to you, Bella."

I speak over him. "It was like you were trying your damnedest to make us fight!"

"I was testing you."

"But I was stubborn," I smile. "My mind was never in charge when it came to you, Edward, even though I tried to remain in control when I found that picture of you and your buddies – one of who you casually happened to mention was Tanya – at that Soundgarden concert you went to without me. You knew how badly I would've wanted to be there, how much I was hating Phoenix. But I still held it all in. And your arm was around her…all of you smiling, looking tired and sweaty, and all I could think to myself, even as I smiled my shitty I'm-not-hurt smile, was oh my friggin' hell, she's gorgeous."

"Bella-"

"All tight, cut-off shorts and tube top under her open flannel shirt with her wild, strawberry blond hair cascading down to her ass. I can still see that Polaroid clearly."

"She was nothing compared to you."

"Don't bullshit me, Edward." I retreat a step because my being too close to him right now may prove hazardous to his health – namely, his balls. "Not now – not a quarter of a century later. She was a thousand times prettier than I was. I mean, yeah, I was pretty." My shoulders lift in a shrug. "I'll give myself that. But she was in a totally different league of gorgeousness; I'm woman enough to admit it. It was like that pop song Ness was crazy about a few years back: She wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts. She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers…" I trail off when I can't recall the rest of the lyrics. "God, Ness used to drive me nuts with that song." My eyes return to his. "Not that I'm justifying what you did, mind you."

"Bella, I couldn't have cared less about what she looked like. I was scared shitless!" He chuckles nervously and fists his hair, shifting his feet back and forth over the gray concrete. "Despite what you said, I could already see you on that plane to Paris. Yes, I see now how all I did from then on was fulfill my own fucked up prophecy, justify the insane shit running around rampant in my head," he hisses, banging his knuckles against his temple, "but back then, all I wanted was to get a reaction from you, to hear you say, No, Edward, you can't have pretty girls as friends. You can't even think of other girls because I plan to be here forever - no matter what."

"I told you it was forever."

"But you wanted to go, Bella. At least admit that. You wanted to go."

I open my mouth to deny it…but no sound comes out.

He smiles sadly. "The day you showed up-"

"The day I cock-blocked you."

He doesn't continue immediately. Instead, he lifts his eyes up to the sky, shivering. I hug my arms around myself to control my own shaking. Crowds of people stroll by without following his uplifted gaze or sparing us a second glance because this is New York, and there's nothing out of place about two people trembling as they rehash their past in the middle of a busy street.

"You know what, Edward? I don't think I want to hear any more. Let's just…"

When I start to walk away, Edward takes my arm gently yet firmly and turns me around, cradling my face in his hands.

"Bella, just let me get this out."

"I don't-"

"Bella, please."

I exhale heavily. "Go ahead," I grit through my teeth.

"Thank you," he breathes, chest heaving. Some sixth sense must warn him to remove his hands from my person, though; right now, he might lose them.

Nevertheless, he remains close, his eyes boring into mine. "Look, the things that happened…Bella, I won't blame my father nor Tanya nor…anyone else. It was all me, from beginning to end. I'm the one who owed you loyalty, who owed you trust. But may I tell you something, and will you please try to believe me?"

"Oh, I believe you, Edward. That's not the problem. You've been quite honest since we met again. I see no point in your lying now."

"In other words, I've already proven what an asshole I was."

"Basically." I offer him a token smile to take off some of the sting, but he flinches anyway.

"The day you arrived on campus, I'd already been informed you were leaving for Paris."

"What do you mean you'd already been informed? That can't be true."

"Bella, I'd called your house earlier, and your mom told me. Like I said," he says quickly, "I'm not blaming her or anyone for what happened afterward. It was all me; I know that…"

My mind wanders as he continues, casting my memory back to that day, to when I'd been in my room, packing…what was it my mom said she'd told him?

"…I should've kicked her out when she walked in, yes, but I wasn't thinking clearly."

I return my full attention to him. "They told me you were in your room. It's a shame there were no cell phones back then; maybe they could've warned you before I found her yanking down your pants."

He cuts me off with an urgency that's almost palpable. "What? She wasn't yanking down my pants, Bella. I was pulling away because I couldn't…I…Bella, that had never happened before. Yes, I knew she liked me, but that had never happened before."

"What are you telling me, that you got busted cheating the first time you actually cheated?"

"Bella, I was an asshole to you even before that day, I know that. The things I said, the things I didn't say…I was closed off, insecure, immature, take your pick, but Bella…that day…I wasn't thinking clearly. My head…it was…clouded…"

My eyes narrow. "What do you mean your head was clouded?"

He drops his gaze to the space between us.

"Edward, what do you mean your head was clouded?"

When he shuts his eyes, my memory again takes me back to that day…I see his eyes, his always vibrantly green eyes looking strangely dull and empty, his unsteady movements, his nervous hair-raking even more pronounced than usual…

"Edward, were you…on drugs?"

"It's not an excuse," he hisses, reopening his eyes, nostrils flaring. "There is no good excuse, Bella, no good reason, and I'm not proud of any of it. It took me a while, but I see that now."

I stare at him for a couple of minutes, completely dumbfounded.

"Fuck. Fuck, that's all really…unlucky, for lack of a better word." I expel a few sardonic chuckles. "But like you said, none of it is an excuse. None of it changes what I had to see…what I had to feel."

"I know." His voice quivers. "I know nothing changes or excuses it, but even as I…I was doing what I was doing, I hated myself, Bella, and I pulled away with no intention of doing it again. But then you were there…you showed up at just that moment, and…and I saw it as a sign."

"A sign?"

He nods ever so slowly. "And then when you opened your mouth and said you were going to Paris, it just reinforced everything, and I thought to myself, well, I knew it. I knew it would end this way."

"That's actually not what I showed up to tell you, but after what I saw, I had to hurt you back, and you told me over and over to go, Edward."

He can't seem to think or hear beyond his own shame and self-condemnation. It flashes across his features in a painful display.

"God, I was such an asshole. I broke your heart, Bella; I broke both our hearts and instead of acknowledging that pain, instead of begging for your forgiveness, instead of begging you to stay and give me another chance, I buried it all under a mountain of anger and resentment." He wraps his hands around my arms. "I let you leave, and I stoked that anger and resentment for a long time by telling myself that after you promised you weren't going, after you treated your acceptance as a joke, you were leaving me. I'd just gotten busted cheating, and I justified it in my head by playing the part of the injured party."

"It would've made no difference if you'd asked me to stay, Edward. I wouldn't have, not at that point. I…I was…" I swallow through a dry throat, but the words just won't come out.

"And…Tanya? She was there to comfort you?

"No, Bella." He rakes a hand through his hair. "For a long while after that, Tanya and I didn't even speak. After you walked out of that room, very little mattered to me. I did things…of which I'm far from proud. But she was still my roommate's friend, and she was still around. One day…I was feeling even more shitty than usual and…well, let's just say, a couple of months later, I found out I was going to be a father. At that point, I realized it was time to make a change, time to wake up – for my child's sake, if for no one else. I tried to do the right thing with her, Bella; God knows I tried," he says through clenched teeth, "but the only love I had left to give was for my son."

My chest constricts so tightly I can barely breathe. My legs suddenly feel like jelly. Despite the fact that he's obviously been struggling to keep his distance, Edward closes all that distance and wraps me up in his arms, holding me against his chest – misunderstanding my pain.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he murmurs, stroking my hair, kissing my temple. "They're weak, insufficient words, but I'm so sorry."

"Edward…" I begin again, pulling away, and I try, I really do, but…I can't seem to finish.

For a long, long while, we stand there at the corner of Stanton and East Houston, eyes on one another as we replay a past which…for so many reasons, simply didn't work. The shadows from the streetlamps above us dance in his eyes, the glow illuminates the gray at his temples and highlights pronounced lines on his forehead which don't seem to ever completely relax. Cab horns honk somewhere in the background, two boys pass us by rapping to some current hit, and an ambulance siren blares urgently in the distance. Yet none of it manages to break our gaze.

He's not the Edward of my youth.

So what exactly am I doing here? Am I stupidly trying to hold on again - attempting to reclaim days gone by or claiming victory over the other girl after a quarter of a century?

And how do I tell him my truths?

It's hard to answer all these questions when those vibrantly green eyes are piercing so deeply into mine.

He's the first to break the silence cocooning us.

"Does any of this make sense, Bella?"

"I'll be honest," I say - and I will be, with everything…in my own time, "had you given me this story back then, I still wouldn't have forgiven you. I was young too, Edward, and I hated you for a long time."

His knuckles caress my cheekbone. "And now?" he asks, a note of desperation tinging his tone.

"Now I've lived through a lot worse than a cheating boyfriend. And…I see how stupid and immature kids can be. How nonsensical their reasoning skills can be."

He shakes his head slowly. "Anthony isn't me, Bella. Please don't punish him for what I did or for who his mother is. I've spent the past twenty-two years trying to be a father whom he can really count on, teaching him from my mistakes."

"I'm trying very hard…to stop doing both of those things, Edward."

The truth is that neither one of those is my problem with Anthony, not anymore. But it would take way more mental fortitude than I have left this evening to get into that.

Instead, I draw in a deep breath. "I know I asked for all this honesty, and I really appreciate how openly you've given it, but can we…can we hold off on the rest?"

He frowns minutely, running his hands up and down my shoulders. "Of course. Had enough for one night?"

"Definitely enough. I've got my own truths to tell, Edward, but I'm ready to call it an evening. Besides," I smile, trying to break the tension, "I've got to make the donuts in the morning."

For a split second, he still looks a bit wary, but then he nods, breaking into a faint, crooked smile in return. "Time to make the donuts. I'm beginning to think that's your go-to line." When I chuckle, his hands span around my waist again, fingers lightly caressing my hips. "I guess that means I won't be getting lucky at the end of this date?"

I know he's just teasing me in return, trying to dispel the ghosts of the past we've been courting all evening. The thing is, I think we both know that for us to move forward, we'll have to keep company with those ghosts a bit longer and then do more than dispel them with teasing. There are skeletons hiding in closets he can't even fathom exist.

"You weren't going to get that lucky tonight, anyway."

Edward throws back his head and laughs.

Despite myself, I'm mesmerized. He's older yet still so young, confident yet much less arrogant, and I find this sexy, honest, open, much more mature, and less cocky Edward a thousand times more attractive than I ever found his younger counterpart. And that's saying something because if my memory does me justice, I once believed him to be the hottest boy in the world.

More than that, I once loved a boy named Edward…Anthony…Masen.

And despite everything that happened, I believe that in his own stupid, immature way, he loved me too.

I'm lost in these thoughts when he stops laughing and eases his head to my level, eyes on mine, voice low and urgent.

"Bella, I messed up twenty-five years ago, but I can't say I regret the paths we took, and we both know why."

"I know, Edward."

"So we'll call it remorse, and along with that sadly deficient word, I'll give you all the answers you want and need."

"Edward-"

"But I've gone twenty-five years remembering…dreaming about…" His gaze flashes between my eyes and lips, and even if it wasn't spelled out clearly in his hungry gaze, I wouldn't need to ask what he's dreamed and remembered. If I must be as honest as him, every once in a while, in between a rich and full life which sometimes grew hectic and busy…I couldn't control my dreams either.

It's almost rough when he pulls me in, but when his lips brush over mine, they're soft and tender before quickly growing firm and insistent. My lips part on a gasp, and his tongue slides in.

And my mind whispers that it's too soon, that there is still too much unknown, too much undisclosed.

But my body…my heart…

There's a reason I didn't kiss Jay yesterday – more than one actually, but we'll stick to the pertinent one here. The fact is that I haven't been kissed in a long, long time, and when you've gone that long without, sometimes you're willing to settle; your craving can be filled by whatever finally appears.

Edward sighs into my mouth, and his tongue around my tongue tastes like mint and relief and remorse and pleasure all rolled into one. When he slides his hand into my hair and pulls me in even closer, I melt against his hard chest and make no attempt to stop this very public display.

No, my mind was never the one in charge when it came to the Edward of my youth. But…

…but, he's not the Edward of my youth.

Too soon or not becomes a moot point. Horrible mistakes, disastrous misunderstandings, and…despondent grief led us in separate directions, but now…at the corner of Stanton and East Houston, cocooned by an obliviously indifferent crowd and by the roaring sounds of New York City, Edward Masen's mouth rediscovers mine. It's warm and moist, hard and insistent…frighteningly familiar yet exhilaratingly new.

And no.

No, I sure as hell haven't settled here.

A/N: Thoughts?

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See you guys on Wednesday. :)