Thank you to SR, Lucette212 and arfalcon.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Edward

"Carlisle," I greeted, sitting in front of his desk and resting my ankle on the opposite knee. Yes, I was purposely going for a relaxed pose. It was also why I chose to wear chinos and a shirt with no tie. I rarely wore a suit on Sunday and I wasn't about to start now. I'd done nothing wrong, after all.

This would soon be my office. But it was not that day yet, and Carlisle was unlikely to step aside without imparting his two cents – or should I say, multi-millions – on this matter.

"Edward, thank you for coming," he said, turning away from his computer. He regarded me silently, his hands laced together across his desk. I knew this move; I'd used it myself. But I'd be damned if I was going to be intimidated.

I sat there and stared right back at him, never flinching. After a few moments he nodded his head almost imperceptibly and shuffled a stack of papers on his desk.

"I know you didn't want to come to work for me," he finally began, relaxing into his chair. "But when you left Price Waterhouse I was determined that you come here. I needed a successor and I trusted you. I was sure you'd picked up something during all the times you sat in the corner playing while your father and I discussed business."

I nodded and gave him a small smile. I loved it when Carlisle would come over to talk business with my father. They seemed other-worldly to me; strong, sure captains of industry that I looked up to and wanted to emulate. Every boy needs strong role models, my mother always emphasized.

"You've always exercised sound judgment," he continued, "and like I've said before, I believe you're a natural business man."

I nodded again but remained silent, knowing he needed to say whatever was on his mind.

"Bringing an employee with you last night, and not advising me beforehand, did not show good judgment, Edward."

"Look, I can't argue with that," I replied truthfully. "But if I had anything to hide, do you honestly think I would have brought her with me?"

He paused and looked at me for a long moment.

"Esme tells me your friend is interested in restaurant work," he continued evenly.

I was momentarily confused by the switch in topic until his reasoning dawned on me.

"Hang on," I said, sitting straighter in my chair. "You can't honestly believe I would use you or Esme in that way."

"I didn't say you would," he replied pointedly. "Perhaps Ms. Swan knows how to make the right friends."

If I hadn't been so offended on Bella's behalf, I might have laughed at his baseless accusation. As it was, he'd formed his opinion on very limited interaction, and it was pissing me off. Royally. To the point where I wanted to hold a coronation for the allegation: Baseless Accusation the First.

Networking was one thing, but to insinuate that Bella was only out to exploit my personal connections was another.

"Absolutely not," I said, trying unsuccessfully to rein in my temper. "You don't know her at all and I resent your allegation."

Carlisle nodded his head and picked up a file from his desk, opening it and gazing down at it before he looked back at me. "Fair point. I wanted to know a little more about your Ms. Swan, so I had a look at her personnel file. Everything seemed pretty straightforward until I came across a notation made by Shelley Cope. It seems that a few months ago Ms. Swan was paid for unaccrued sick days. This deviation from policy was approved by you. Is that correct?"

I blanched but didn't break eye contact. To a man like Carlisle that would be as good as admitting guilt. "That's correct," I said. "But just so we're clear, Bella didn't ask me to do that for her. That was all me and I take full responsibility."

He nodded and continued. "I remembered something Mr. Black said during our IT visit and I put a call in to Mr. Crowley this morning. Apparently, you moved up an audit of the IT department, and had him do it as opposed to one of the accountants, though you gave Mr. Crowley no reason as to why. This is also correct?"

"It is," I said, my mouth suddenly dry.

While this line of questioning didn't have the confrontational nature of a full on interrogation, it was a line of questioning nonetheless. And Carlisle, as measured as he was being, was asking questions he already knew the answers to.

He nodded once more as he took a small sheaf of papers from the file on his lap. "After this information came to my attention this morning, I had Heidi call Mr. Black and have him join me here at the office. I asked him to print a log of Ms. Swan's emails, dating back to right before the audit, including any that may have been erased." He paused as I tried to catch my breath. This was not good. Individually, none of these things was terribly incriminating. Together, they demonstrated a pattern of favoritism – the exact thing Carlisle's non-fraternization policy was designed to prevent.

Carlisle again paused briefly before he continued, his eyes like lasers on mine. "He didn't find much outside of work related emails, but what he did find was fairly innocuous. Just a few emails between you and her that were frankly rather funny."

I had assumed Bella erased all of our emails, but now I wondered. Still, the stack of paper he had was small and definitely didn't account for every email we'd ever exchanged. This would require further investigation.

"You must be careful in these situations, Edward. The non-fraternization policy of this company is in place for many reasons. I realize you probably think I'm just trying to protect my company, and hence my own ass. But I need to protect you as well."

"I don't need protecting from Bella, or anyone else. I'm actually a grown man and a rather good judge of character." I didn't bother to try to hide the edge of anger in my voice. "Bella's my friend, and when I tell you that, I expect you to believe me. I realize I've had some lapses in judgment where she's concerned, but that doesn't define her, nor does it define my time here or my career."

He looked at me for a long minute before he responded. "Look, Edward. I care for you like a son. I didn't call you here to reprimand or berate you. If you tell me she's a friend and trustworthy, I believe you. But you showed poor judgment and I need to make sure your commitment to this company, and its policy, is solid."

"It is," I assured him, my temper cooling.

"Good," he replied, reaching into his drawer and pulling out a two inch thick file. "As you know, we're acquiring Smith & Sons. I want you in the lead on this. Our first meeting is tomorrow at nine o'clock." He leaned across his desk and handed me the file. "Get up to speed and I'll see you at the meeting." His tone left no room for discussion, and certainly none for refusal. He was testing me; testing my resolve and dedication to make sure I was ready to take the reins of his company.

I rose from my chair, file in hand. Carlisle remained seated.

"I'll see you in the morning," I said, holding up the file. He nodded and smiled, his hands steepled under his chin.

As I waited for the elevator that would take me down to my office, I took out my phone and brought Bella's name up under my contact list. My finger hesitated over the send button. I told her nothing would keep me away from her tonight, but there was no way I could absorb the contents of this folder and have dinner with her, especially considering the discussion we were planning on having. It would simply have to wait. She would understand. I'd told her many times that work was my priority and she would know only an emergency would make me cancel on her after what we shared last night.

Her phone rang three times before it went to voice mail.

"Hey, Bella. Listen, I'm really sorry but I can't make it tonight. Something came up during my meeting with Carlisle that I need to take care of immediately. I'll call you later to reschedule." I paused for a moment, searching for the words that would make her believe I was sincere. "I hope you're free tomorrow because I swear on my grandma's chicken pot pie, I will make time for you...for us. I promise."

I disconnected the call and got in the elevator.

Bella

"Your food is delicious, Bella," Esme said. "And the dish you made from our menu is perfect. I can't believe you've had any trouble finding a job before now."

"Well," I said, smiling and looking down briefly before raising my eyes, "maybe I was just waiting for the right situation."

"I hope you've found it," she said before gesturing to her Executive Chef. "Sam will give you the details, but our salary and benefits are very competitive, so I hope you'll take the job."

I stood there silently for a moment, letting her words sink in. Because holy shit, I was pretty sure she'd just offered me my dream job. I gathered my wits and cleared my throat. "I'm sure your offer will be more than acceptable."

"Good," she said, nodding her head. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some calls to return." She turned to Sam. "Take care of her, will you?"

Sam nodded and stood, gesturing for me to follow him. After accepting the very generous package that was offered to me, he asked me if I could start the very next day. I explained that I needed to give CI at least two weeks notice, and we agreed that I would come in during the evenings for the next two weeks to train, though I would be working the lunch shift when I started.

As we were discussing my health benefit options, my phone rang with Edward's ringtone. I didn't pick it up, though. For once, my job was taking precedence over him. Besides, I was sure he was calling to firm up our plan for later and I could call him back when I was finished.

I practically skipped all the way to the subway. I had what amounted to the perfect job, and once I called him back, a dinner date planned with Edward. I wasn't sure what I did to deserve it, but it seemed like everything in my life was falling into place.

At least I thought so until I picked up Edward's voice mail.

I was disappointed, but I consoled myself with the fact that he'd called and was thinking about me. I resisted the urge to call him back and share my good news – I wanted to tell him in person tomorrow and be able to thank him properly.

I didn't like losing out to his job once again, but he'd promised to make time for me the next day, and one doesn't swear on Grandma's chicken pot pie lightly. Besides, I thought his behavior during our morning together clearly indicated he didn't want just a one night thing.

And if I had to wait one more day to make it official, so be it.

I walked into work the next day with a bounce in my step, only to be greeted by Jake, who insisted I go to the server room with him before I had a chance to even sit down.

I stood there among the whirr of the machines as Jake looked at me nervously; I couldn't imagine what he had to tell me.

"When you erase emails, they don't really erase," he blurted out. "I exchange emails with the guys in my Dungeons and Dragons forum, but I make sure to delete what I deleted."

My brow knit in confusion before my eyes went wide. This was not a good start to the conversation. Dungeons, dragons, and unsuccessful deletion – enough screw-ups to make the average person/medieval knight shudder.

"Mr. Cullen called me in yesterday and asked me to print copies of all your emails," he continued, speaking quickly and not looking me in the eye. "I found a lot, but I only gave him the work related emails and a few personal. If there were none he would have been suspicious. But they weren't the incriminating ones."

I stood there, my heart pounding, wondering what the hell was going on. "Mr. Cullen was checking up on me?"

He nodded and bit his nails nervously. "Uh...yeah."

This was far from good. If "good" were plotted on a map, "this situation" wouldn't even be on the same page. It wouldn't even be in the same hemisphere.

"Look, I know we haven't always gotten along," Jake continued, "but you could have gotten in a lot of trouble for some of those emails. You shouldn't be carrying on with the CFO like that. You could get fired."

The penny began to drop. Slowly, as if gravity had lessened its pull. Mr. Cullen was checking up on me, presumably because he'd seen me with Edward on Saturday. And Jake was protecting me. Protecting me. I was hardly a damsel in distress – and he certainly wasn't my nerd in virtual armor – but he had gone out of his way to help me out.

"Oh," I said, still dumbstruck. "I'm...I'm not carrying on with anyone."

He tilted his head. "It's okay. I'm just saying..."

"Besides, I quit!" I blurted out. My brain had finally caught up with my mouth. It was now sitting on the sidewalk, nursing a stitch and wondering if only nutjobs believed running was good for the soul.

"Quit? It's not that big a deal, Bella. I permanently erased them. You and the CFO might want to cool it, though."

"No cooling necessary!" Boy, was I jumpy. "Not everything needs to be refrigerated, you know."

Now Jake was looking at me with genuine confusion. "Sure."

I shook my head quickly. "Sorry. I'm all frazzled. What I meant to say is I'm actually quitting. I got another job. As a chef!"

He looked even more perplexed. I suddenly realized that I'd never explained to him that my work at Cullen, Inc. was merely a way for me to bide my time. So I explained it to him, there in the heat of the server room, which was not as comfortable as the heat in a kitchen, but would have to do for now.

"So you got a job as a chef?" Jake said, smiling and looking genuinely pleased for me.

I smiled back, surprised at his good will. I really was excited about this new opportunity, and it helped that someone else was happy for me. "Yeah, I start training tonight."

He looked at me closely for a minute, making me really uncomfortable. Plus, it was getting hotter in here. Not that kind of hot – more like someone messed with the thermostat kind of hot. Perhaps Mr. Cullen was literally trying to make me sweat.

"You have vacation time," Jake finally said.

"I'm starting a new job. I don't have time for vacation," I said rather incredulously. And dumbly, as it turned out.

"I mean you can use that for your two weeks notice," he said, still grinning and rolling his eyes. "We're short staffed, but we can handle it."

"Really?" I asked. "I can do that?"

"Sure. Vacation usually requires some notice, but I'll cover for you."

I eyed him suspiciously, wondering whether there was a secret plan behind all of this kindness. I wasn't sure if I could trust him. After all, what kind of emails had hedeleted during his time here? Sure, he'd mentioned Dungeons & Dragons, but maybe he played the game in a shady way. They say "don't hate the player, hate the game", but it wouldn't be the game's fault if he were untrustworthy.

I was being ridiculous. I returned Jake's warm smile and told myself to stop thinking his forum buddies were members of a gaming conspiracy.

"I realize – partly from your emails – that I haven't always treated you right," he conceded.

"Well..." I began, not entirely sure what to say. It wasn't really the time to gripe about our differences, what with his change in tune.

"Reading what you wrote made me angry at first, but then I thought about it and you were absolutely right. I just... I don't want to be that guy. My mother raised me better than that and she would be disappointed in me if she knew."

"I doubt she reads our emails," I joked lightly. "I think you're safe."

He paused. "I have a sneaking suspicion she knows how to use a computer."

"Everyone thinks they know how to use a computer. Until they encounter enough blue screens to make a Star Wars film, that is."

He laughed heartily. "Oh, that's a good one. Making fun of PCs and the new Star Wars. I think you're one of us – it's a shame you're leaving. And by that I mean leaving as soon as you can. Just go. I'll cover for you. I owe you that much."

On impulse, I threw my arms around him and gave him a hug in thanks for his help. And surprisingly, he didn't smell bad at all. Maybe he really did take what I said in my emails to heart. Or mouth, rather.

"Thanks, Jake. I appreciate it."

"No problem."

I collected my things from my desk, said goodbye to a few people, and left Cullen, Inc. behind, ready to start my new life. I called the restaurant and told them I could start immediately, went shopping for some new kitchen clogs, and even splurged on a new dress for my date with Edward.

Except as the day wore on, I began to wonder if I shouldn't have bothered. Edward hadn't contacted me all day; no phone call, text, email, telegram, or carrier pigeon. I was losing hope; he'd promised me – promised he would make time for me today. But by nine o'clock that night, with no word, I was not only depressed, I was angry. I'd given him so much more than my body the other night, but nothing had changed.

I didn't know I had a breaking point with Edward, but when I heard his ringtone from my cell phone at almost eleven o'clock that night, I realized I did.

And I'd just reached it.

"Yes?" I said through clenched teeth.

"Bella," he said. "I'm so sorry. I've been –"

"You know what, Edward? I don't want to hear it."

He seemed taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I'm tired of your excuses and I'm tired of being ignored. After what happened on Saturday, I expected better."

"I –"

"No. I should have expected better long before Saturday night. But I didn't. And maybe that's my fault. But I can't listen to how your job is more important than I am anymore."

"Please listen for just a second," he pleaded.

I paused and took a deep breath. "Go ahead."

"It was really important. My meeting with Carlisle went well but then he saddled me with this takeover in addition to everything else I do on a daily basis and it was just... overwhelming."

"So overwhelming that you broke your promise to me not once, but twice?"

I heard him inhale sharply but he didn't say anything for a long minute. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

I closed my eyes as tears slid from beneath my lids. As heartbroken as I was, and as much as I didn't want to face the truth, I had no choice. If we continued down this path it would be broken promise after broken promise, missed date after missed date. I couldn't do that to myself. Not for him or anyone. "I'm sorry too. I'm sorry that your apology isn't enough anymore." I took a deep breath and steeled myself for what I had to say. "I want better. I want more – I deserve it."

"You do," he said softly. "You deserve the world at your feet."

"Why were you calling?" I wasn't sure I wanted to know, but no matter the outcome we needed to get everything out in the open. "I thought we had plans for tonight since you promised to make time for us. Don't you think calling earlier than eleven o'clock would have been considerate?"

He was silent for so long that if I wasn't able to hear his breathing, I would have assumed he hung up. "Edward?"

"I was so busy. This really is the first opportunity I've had to call," he finally said. He paused a beat before speaking again. "I have an incredibly busy week ahead of me. I'm going to be working late every night."

Of course. Why I ever got my hopes up, I'll never know. I should have expected this. "So this is the way you blow me off? 'I'm busy with work'? Is this a standard line or did you come up with it especially for me?" I wiped tears from my cheeks quickly, but my voice was firm. My heart wasn't a negotiable commodity. I wanted so badly for him to tell me I was wrong, that he loved me and that he would never choose anyone or anything before me again. That there was going to be an us.

"That's notwhat this is. I don't have a choice," he defended.

"There's always a choice, Edward. You just need to make the one that's right for you."

"I want... I'm sorry. I don't know what to do." The tortured tone in his voice gave me pause, but the fact that he didn't know what to do just reinforced what I knew I hadto do.

"You've already made your decision. Goodbye, Edward."

I disconnected the call, dropped my phone, and slid to the floor. Then I buried my head in my arms and cried.

Even though I knew what I'd done was the right thing, I had to stop myself from picking up the phone more than once that night, wanting so badly to call him back and tell him I would wait as long as it took. That I loved him and I'd take whatever scraps of his time he would give me. I knew that ultimately I'd done the healthy, smart thing; this man I cared for so deeply simply didn't feel the same way about me and giving any more than I already had would lead to much worse heartbreak down the road.

I called Rose instead, who sat on the phone with me for hours while I vacillated between anger and hurt, yelling and crying. She assured me that I'd done the right thing and that I did, indeed, deserve more than I was getting. When I finally hung up with her it was past two o'clock in the morning.

I barely slept and left the house the next morning feeling absolutely wretched. My head was pounding, my heart was heavy, and my limbs felt like lead. But once I walked into the kitchen at Esme's restaurant, it was as if I was reborn. It was only my first day, and I was in the training phase of my employment, but my personal heartbreak was left at the door. This was where I belonged and the place that made me happiest: the kitchen.

I went about my day, prepping for lunch service and learning the routine of the restaurant. I thought of Edward, of course, but the pain was dulled by my happiness at simply being in a kitchen again.

But his absence from my life came back to slap me in the face when I found a man, holding a black velvet box, standing outside my apartment door when I got home that night.

"Isabella Swan?"

"Yes," I said, my heart hammering in my chest.

"This is for you." He handed me the box, smiled, and walked away.

When I got into my apartment, I opened the box with a shaking hand. I'd hoped against hope that Edward would come after me or make some grand gesture to prove he cared for me. But when I saw my string of pearls nestled inside, I realized that whatever relationship I had with Edward was really and truly over. This was the final brush-off – he was sending me back the last connection we had. Through a courier. That he couldn't even be bothered giving them to me himself, that he hadn't tried to come after me or even picked up the phone, spoke volumes.

I crawled into bed that night and shed what I was determined would be my final tears over Edward Masen.