Chapter 14
Bella jerked awake as if she was trying to escape a bad dream she couldn't remember. Her head spun, all clouded and heavy from sleep, and her heart raced like she'd just run a long distance. She hadn't meant to fall back asleep, and as she looked at the clock, she realized she was going to be late for work.
She pushed her legs over the side of the bed and sat up, and that was when everything hit her. She was a bit disoriented, her chest was tight, and that was only exacerbated by the fact that her heart rate seemed to increase when she needed it to slow down.
She leaned over, putting her head between her knees and tried to breathe slowly and deeply. That usually helped in moments like this. She kept her eyes closed, and tried to focus her mind.
She was having a panic attack. That's all, she told herself. This was nothing new to her, but it had been a while since she'd had one this severe. Especially when nothing had happened to trigger it.
She needed to take an Ativan. It wouldn't take that long to take effect, and even though waiting for it to kick in would probably make her even later for work than she already was, she would be fine.
She would be fine.
She would be fine.
She kept repeating it to herself, over and over, like a mantra, as she walked to the bathroom to open her medicine cabinet.
And that's when it hit her.
The realization that she'd missed her nighttime medicine the night before rushed over her in a cold wave. Her hands trembled along with her body, as she cursed herself for being so forgetful.
How could she have forgotten to take her medicine?
She was always so diligent, never missing a dose, to avoid this very thing from happening. But she'd been so caught up in everything that happened the night before, she'd forgotten. She didn't even remember Edward taking her to bed.
She should have had more foresight, she thought. She should have taken her medicine before he came over. But she hadn't known the way their night would progress. Everything that happened between them had been spontaneous and natural.
Normal, she thought.
Last night, for the first time in her whole life, Bella had felt like a normal woman with normal desires, and she'd spent the entire night with this amazing man who seemed to want nothing more than to fulfill them.
And he had.
She wanted to weep.
She didn't know if it was the panic attack, or the regret she felt for making such a stupid mistake by missing her medicine, or all the lingering and unfamiliar emotions coursing through her from her night with Edward.
She only knew it was too much.
But even as she acknowledged that it was too much, she also knew that she wouldn't change what happened for anything in the world. She was becoming someone different with him, someone who wanted to open herself up to new experiences, experiences she'd been missing out on her entire life. And she wanted to experience them all with him – this amazing man who saw who she was when no one else ever had, and based on what he'd said before he left to get ready for work, he wanted to experience them with her, as well.
And with that realization, Bella took her medicine, she put on her bathrobe, and she went to the living room to lie on the couch until the anxiety passed.
Because she knew it would.
.
.
Even though he was pretty fucking exhausted, Edward had never felt so good. And it was all because of the woman in her apartment several floors above him.
The whole time he'd gotten ready for work, he couldn't keep the smile off his face. Except when he showered, because all he could think about in there was her naked body against his, the feeling of her full breasts with those sexy fucking nipples in his hands, and her wet, delicious pussy against his mouth. He felt like he'd had an erection for a solid fucking week, and he supposed that was somewhat true. But as he leaned against the tile, stroking himself off like a goddamn teenager for the second time in a week, he didn't give a single fuck.
He didn't mind taking the physical shit slow with Bella, didn't care how long he had to wait to feel her pussy around his cock. He would gladly fucking wait, because Edward knew it was going to happen eventually. Her response let him know, in more ways than one, that she was ready. Her mind just needed to catch up with her body. And Edward could be patient. Hell, for Bella, he could be Saint-fucking-Monica.
God, he couldn't wait to see her again.
Even if it was just for a few moments in the lobby before she headed to her job.
Every time he heard the ding of the elevator, his heart skipped, hoping it was her. It never was. And by the time six-thirty rolled around, Edward started feeling antsy. She never came down this late.
Never.
Edward could set a fucking clock to the schedule she kept, and she was definitely off schedule.
By seven, Edward was concerned something was wrong. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. It ate at him, even as he greeted the residents passing by him on their way to start their days. He got more agitated with each passing person because none of them were the right person.
He needed to see Bella, needed to see her shy, smiling face.
He needed to know she was okay.
He began questioning himself, questioning whether he should have left her alone after everything that happened. She'd seemed all right when he left, and he thought he'd made clear just how much all of it meant to him. How much she meant to him. But the more he thought about it, the more he doubted himself.
She'd never been with a man like that before. She'd woken up confused and disoriented by the idea that he'd stayed the night, as if he could have left her after everything that happened. As if he could have possibly done anything except stay there, holding her sleeping body in his arms. Was it possible she didn't know what she really meant to him?
He didn't have an answer.
He only knew he couldn't stand there waiting to get one, while she was possibly upstairs confused about his intentions, or regretting what they'd done.
Her confusion might be understandable, but any regret on her part wouldn't be borne.
By the time he got to her door, he was worked up – too worked up. He took a deep, calming breath, remembering that her door might still be unlocked from when he'd left earlier in the morning, and he cursed himself for leaving her unprotected. He knew it wasn't rational, of course. This was a safe building with security. But he wasn't being rational.
He turned the knob, his concern outweighing the momentary pang of guilt he felt at invading her privacy. When the door opened, his eyes immediately landed on her sleeping form on the couch. She was wearing the same blue bathrobe from the night before, and Jesus, he felt such intense relief at seeing her there, safe and okay, sleeping even.
He'd blown everything out of proportion.
He needed to get a goddamn grip.
He was about to close the door and leave, when he looked closer. It seemed like she was sleeping, but there was something different in the way she lay there, all straight and still and silent. Last night, she'd slept on her side, all soft and sweet and curled up against him, whispering words at random intervals. Edward didn't know what she was doing, but she definitely wasn't sleeping.
"Bella," he said, walking over toward her.
Her eyes shot open, and her hand clutched her throat. Not just her hand, but her trembling hand. And her eyes, Jesus, her eyes were all wild and unfocused.
"Edward," she said, her voice forced and breathless. "Why are you…what are you doing here?"
"I was worried about you when you didn't come downstairs," he told her honestly, still concerned by her overall appearance.
"I'm fine," she said, unnerving and irritating him even more. She clutched her robe modestly around her, the innocuous action attempting to confirm his earlier suspicions. She was regretting what happened last night, and he couldn't have that.
"Please don't say you're fine, when I can clearly see that you're not," he said, searching her face for a small sign that she was still the same woman from last night. "Bella, what's wrong?"
"Edward, this is really hard for me to say, but I honestly can't deal with this right now." She took a breath that appeared shallow and painful. "Not right now, when I'm already…"
Her eyes filled with tears, and an angry red flush covered her skin. He was making whatever this was worse, and he didn't know what he should do. Part of him wondered if maybe he shouldn't just leave, but he needed her to know how important she was to him, that last night had meant more to him than he could possibly have ever known. And he wasn't going anywhere until he made that clear.
"Shhh…it's okay," he said, dropping to his knees beside her. As gently as possible, he brushed the tears away from her hot cheeks, feeling her deep and shuddering breath against his palm. "When you're already what? Bella, baby what's going on?"
"Having a panic attack." Her whimpered voice was fraught, and filled with as much anguish as he felt.
Edward had never felt like more of asshole than he did in that moment.
"This is all my fault."
.
.
.
A/N
I need to clarify something because I'm getting a ton of questions about what kind of trauma Bella has suffered to incur this kind of crippling anxiety. And I just need to be clear that nothing traumatic caused this. She suffers from severe panic disorder and social anxiety. These are medical conditions that millions of people deal with, and it doesn't necessarily have to be triggered by something. I tried to be very thoughtful in how I wrote this. I partnered with a medical doctor (Thank you, Raina.) to ensure that I was accurately portraying what living with this would be like. So, if you were looking for something dramatic and horrifying in Bella's past, this is not the story you were looking for, nor is it the story I wanted to tell.
Thank you to each of you who have shared your personal stories about dealing with anxiety and panic with me. I wish I could give each of you a hug and a cup of peppermint tea.
That being said, I love you all of you, and I appreciate you reading. Thank you.
Reviews are love.