a/n - standard disclaimer

v.2 - thank you to the reviewers for making this my most reviewed story ever, thanks also for all the favorites/alerts, and special thanks for staying with me and keeping the faith

"Bella! The party's in full swing. Aren't you coming down?"

I looked up at my director and tried for a smile. I was pretty sure my attempt sucked. My smiles hadn't been easy things over the past few days. Or weeks. Or months.

"I'll be right there, I'm just packing the last of this crap up."

My hands closed on a picture frame with no more mind than to toss it into the box as I'd done with everything else that had accumulated in my trailer over the interminably long shoot. Then I caught sight of the faces. And froze. It was a candid image some press photographer had snapped at Paul's premiere. A moment where our heads had been close together and he'd told me he was wondering what life would have been like if I'd never left Forks as a baby. The resulting image captured his little half-smile in aching detail.

Alice had had it framed for me and given it to me after the first weekend our plans to see each other had fallen through. After… Afterwards, I'd put it in a drawer. I couldn't look at it, but I hadn't been able to bear throwing it away, either. Now here it was, resurfacing to mock me like a past mistake. Fitting, I suppose.

"Come on, leave this for Alice. It's what you've got her for, right?"

"She's not a servant, Scott. She's my PA. And she deserves to enjoy the wrap party just as much as everyone else."

His hands went up, teasing glint in his eyes. "Back off, Mama Bear, I was just kidding. Christ, we're done with filming. You'd think that'd get a smile on your face for a change."

I shrugged and tossed out my usual, "I'm fine, just don't feel like smiling today."

"Do you ever?" he muttered.

I pretended not to hear him. "What was that?"

"Nothing. What've you got there?" he asked and reached for the frame.

I quickly pulled it out of his reach.

"Christ, Bella, I'm not trying to steal it. I just wanted to see."

"It's nothing. Just an old memory." I set it in the box and hoped he'd respect my wish to drop the subject.

No such luck.

Shouldn't have surprised me. He hadn't listened to me since filming began, why should it be any different on wrap day?

He looked into the box and sighed. "God, that idiot again? Seriously, Bells, you know you're well rid of this creep, right?"

I didn't answer; I couldn't.

"He took off? Left you mid-shoot? Not exactly the kind of guy you need for the long haul."

I was able to keep my eyes dry and my face blank. Not that it mattered. Scott either saw through my façade or heard the lie in my voice, or both.

"You've still got a thing for him? Seriously?" he laughed. "I don't get it."

"I love him, Scott. You know that." Even now I couldn't bring myself to use the past tense.

"Loved, Bella. Past tense, right? You figured soon enough what we all learn eventually. Straights just don't understand our lifestyle, the pressures of our jobs, they never will. Asking them to try is like casting an elephant for the Black Swan. It might work in theory, but the reality just looks stupid."

"So you said. Repeatedly."

"And I was right, wasn't I? First sign of trouble and bolted."

Scott was behind me now, hands on my shoulders and eyes meeting mine in the mirror. His thumbs pressed into the base of my neck, rubbing in soft circles.

"It wasn't that cut and dry, and you know it. He tried." My voice hitched, wanted to break. I wouldn't let it. "He tried to make it work. I'm the one that failed."

I'd had a lot of time to think over the last few weeks – cold, lonely nights, mornings spent with no hope of his deep chuckle in my ear to make me smile through the stress. In all that time, all that thinking, there'd been only one common denominator. My own failures.

"That's bullshit, Bella. You did nothing more than do your job. He was the one that couldn't handle it. I'd suspected as much when I saw those first press pics of him with you at the airport. Looked like he'd been dropped on an alien planet and expected an anal probe any second."

"You saw those?" I was shocked. In all our time talking, all the hours we'd spent in this very trailer just shooting the shit between takes he'd never mentioned it. Not once.

"Of course I did. You were my future employee. I'd be a crap director if I didn't find out all I could about my actors before they set a single foot on my set. Better to know in advance what to expect, so when the recovered addict starts up with the shakes, you know what's going on and don't waste time being clueless."

"But you never said anything. Not once."

"What was I going to say, Bella? 'Great guy you've got there, looks like he's next in line for a complete rectal exam'? He wasn't cut out for this life, Bella. I know it, everyone who saw those pictures knows it. Deep down he knew it, too, and that's why he decided to leave."

"He had a little help with that decision, though, didn't he? Someone keeping me exhausted, on the phone or in production meetings? Schedule changes that coincidentally kept me from leaving town..."

Cold dread was settling in my stomach like toxic waste. Could I have been that blind?

"I only did what needed doing, showed you what you needed to see." He spun my chair until we were face to face, lowering to his knees to bring our faces level. His hands took both of mine, gave them a squeeze. "And I'd do it again to help you see sense."

Scott was in the exact position he had been in the last time I'd seen him and my mind flashed back to that hideous, horrible morning. To the unexpected reshoot that ended up being moot because by the time I got to the set, I was too devastated to do more than put one foot in front of the other, especially when Alice had texted, telling me the house was empty, that Edward had left.

Then another memory popped into my head; something that hadn't even registered at the time.

Scott, the dictatorial director who'd insisted we shoot on Saturday to make up lost footage, personally lead my useless ass off the set and into this very trailer. He hadn't been angry, he hadn't even raised his voice. He'd just held me in a platonic hug, told me to go on home and rest. To take a few days and get my bearings back. A few days.

Take a few days off.

The man who'd worked me like a slave, had pulled me away from a long-needed reunion with my boyfriend because we just HAD to reshoot that day…had given me time off not five hours later…and only when there was no one there to share it with me.

At the time, I'd been too deep in my fugue state to connect the dots.

Now I saw that morning, and the rest of that day, through different eyes; ones that weren't hampered by misery, exhaustion and stress. I saw all the little doubts I'd had but had brushed away. All the times I'd half-wondered if Scott wasn't throwing up roadblocks deliberately, to keep me solely focused on his film. I'd even thought of asking him once, when he'd scheduled yet another weekend's worth of work destined to keep me from leaving town. I hadn't, though. Even when…when it had ended. When he was gone, I'd looked back over every moment of those weeks apart searching for something, anything that would exonerate me.

At the time, I'd thought I was trying to make Scott my scapegoat – to lay blame at his feet because I didn't want to face that I'd systematically and irrevocably fucked up my life.

Now, in light of his comments and the bordering-on-smug look on his face, I realized my initial thoughts had been right.

I looked at our joined hands, then at him. "You did it on purpose."

There was no accusation in my voice. Just cold, stark truth.

"Did what?"

"All of it, everything. You called that night, you scheduled the late shoot, the cast dinner I wasn't allowed to invite him to even though you knew he was waiting for me; you made us come back in that Saturday. All of it. Even before that. Everything you said…oh…oh God." My hands flew to my face as the truth registered. Tears clogged my throat. I was having trouble breathing as the blinders finally came off.

"Bella, sweetheart..."

I hissed. "Don't call me that. Ever."

His hands tightened on mine. "I only wanted to help you see the truth."

"I saw it, all right. And you made sure to color it all the way you wanted it to look, didn't you? All those early morning talks when I was in the makeup chair. You were right there with a sympathetic ear, all smiles, coffee and commiseration."

Every conversation we'd had came rushing back to me like I'd used a "Jump to Scott" feature on a Blu-ray. Statements leapt out at me; each worse than the last as his tone had changed. So subtle I hadn't noticed it happening over the course of the shoot; now, though, it was achingly obvious.

I know it's hard, it always is when you try to bring outsiders into this life, but you're holding up beautifully. I'm sure you'll make it.

He should be understanding, this is your career after all. You were patient when his job interrupted, right?

Better he learn now that it's not all cameras and smiles. He loves you, he'll get over it. And if he can't, finding out now can only be a good thing.

And the last, the very worst, from a single conversation held while Edward slept in my bed, my body still warm from our long-overdue reunion. He doesn't understand you or your job, Bella. He'll probably even tell you to just not come, that it's just a movie, not "important" like his job is to him.

Over and over the comments rang in my memory until I couldn't hear anything else. My hands clapped over my ears. That didn't do anything but serve to hold the poison in.

I turned blazing eyes on him. "Why? Why would you do that to me?"

"I didn't do anything to you, Bella. Nothing you didn't want. You were miserable, everyone could see it. I was just helping you see the obvious."

"And what obvious would that be?"

"That he's wrong for you. You need someone that understands the life you lead, that can help your career, not stand around like a statue while you do all the work."

"Someone like you, you mean."

I watched the grin tug at the corners of his mouth. "We could be great together, Bella. There's already buzz for you over Shattered and this one's getting the same attention and I haven't even started editing yet. We could be the new power couple," he said, anticipation dripping from his every word, "just think about it."

I didn't think. I didn't think at all. I just reared back and slapped him so hard across his smarmy-smiling face that he rocked backwards and fell on his ass.

The blood on my hand from his newly-split lip only fed the satisfaction.

"You fucking bitch. You're going to regret that."

I let out a mirthless laugh. "So I've gone from the other half of your power couple to a bitch in one swipe of my hand, is that it?" I imitated his voice. "Let me throw your own words back at you then. Better you find out now I'm not some naïve little ingénue, you fucking bastard."

"You'll never find another job," he spat at me, fingertips wiping the blood from his chin. I felt a thrill of power when I saw his lip swelling.

"Yes, she will. She's going to have a career in this town as long as she wants one. Because if she so much as loses a commercial, I'm going to let what I just overheard 'slip out' at the first available opportunity."

We both turned sharply when the trailer door opened, Alice standing stock still, arms crossed at her chest, eyes spitting fire.

"Or maybe one of the sound guys standing with me just now will beat me to it – these trailer walls are like paper, you know? And those guys are notorious for not being able to keep secrets."

I saw real fear take the place of righteous indignation in his face.

"If you undermine this film..."

I held up a hand. "Don't even bother with the threats, Scott. I'm a professional, as you so often reminded me. I will see to my obligations in this film, press tours, interviews and premieres, all of it. I will be the picture of a supportive star so long as you stay the fuck away from me. In every way. No phone calls, no texts, nothing. Everything you need to say to me from now on will go through Jake."

I held Scott's eyes until his head bobbed once in a nod of assent.

The last of my strength faltered as the adrenaline rush ebbed. I felt my eyes start to fill and made my exit before the tears could fall. I walked straight out to my car with nothing more in mind that getting the hell out of here before I fell apart completely. I made it to my car without meeting anyone, thank God, but stopped when I realized I'd left without my purse.

No purse, no keys.

I was stuck standing here.

The tight hold on my control wavered once, then gave way entirely. The tears trickled in twin rivers down my face. It wasn't long before the trickle became a flood and the flood turned to wracking sobs. I was reduced to a shaking, moaning mass on a movie studio lot, standing next to a BMW Z4, hands clawing at the unmoving door handle like it would just magically open.

"Bella?"

I felt her small, strong hand on my shoulder.

"Alice."

I turned into her arms and lost it. Completely. I cried for everything I'd done, everything I'd not done, and everything I'd lost due to my own stupidity.

I barely noticed when Alice's arms became Jake's, barely noticed when we were no longer standing, but sitting. I just drew comfort from his familiar arms and surrendered to the grief.

I didn't come back to reality until I felt a leather sofa beneath me and a cold glass pressed into my hand.

"What is this?"

"White man's firewater."

Confusion pulled me the rest of the way out of my near-catatonia. I blinked a few times, eyes finally focusing on the man in front of me. Seth. Tall, beautiful, Native American Seth was standing over me wearing the teasing grin that had made Jake fall in love in a matter of seconds.

"You're a riot, Seth."

"That's what the judges all say, right after they fine me for contempt. Now drink up."

"I'm not much of a drinker. Can I have water?"

"After the whiskey, Bells. You've got your own little San Andreas going on there. Once that stops, we'll switch to water."

I followed the line of his sight to the glass in my hands. They were shaking so much, the ice was rattling in the glass.

"Oh. Right."

I sipped at the whiskey, wincing at the burn as it traveled down my throat. Then I wished it was stronger, strong enough to burn away everything, leave nothing but the shell behind.

I don't know how long it was before the shaking stopped, but I'm pretty sure the glass was refilled at least once. By the time I was given a water bottle, I was back in Jake's arms, both of us reclining on the sofa, my aching heart soothed by the steady beat of his in my ear.

"Feeling better?"

"No," I answered honestly. "But the shock's worn off." I looked around. "Where is everyone?"

"Alice and Seth are off getting your car and bringing it here, as well as the rest of your things from the set."

I nodded.

"She told you." It wasn't a question.

"She told me. She also said you hit him so hard you drew blood."

Shame filled me as the whole horrible scene replayed in my mind. I prided myself on being a strong person and above the normal female weepies, but the tears returned anyway, stinging this time.

"What am I going to do, Jake?"

I felt his lips on my head, his arms tighten around me. "From what Alice told me, you handled everything fine. I'll give Scott a few days to count his blessings, then stop in and make sure he knows—"

I pulled away. "Not about that, Jake. About..."

I hadn't been able to say his name. Not since he left. Or, rather, not since I'd given him no other choice but to leave.

"Oh. Edward," Jake said softly.

My hand went to my chest, to where it felt someone had just speared me like a cocktail sausage. "Yes. Him."

"I dunno, Bells, but I'm sure groveling will be a part of it."

"Groveling?"

"Yeah, you know. The act of throwing yourself on the mercy of the person you've wronged, writhing and begging forgiveness, offering to lie on razor blades while they douse you with lemon juice, that sort of thing."

"Done that a lot, have you?"

"We both have. Par for the course in a healthy relationship, you live, you love, you fight, you have killer makeup sex. Lather, rinse, repeat."

"I don't think so, Jake. I think this goes beyond groveling."

"Nothing is beyond groveling, except maybe cheating, and abuse. But Edward…"

"No, he never did anything like that. If anyone was abusive, it was me."

Jake popped a brow at me. "Knocking him around on the side, were you?"

"No," I huffed, smacking his arm. "But I'm pretty sure letting him walk away, or worse, practically kicking him out the door after months of neglect counts as some form of abuse."

"Bella."

"No, Jake. I did this, I have no one to blame but myself. I let the best thing to ever happen to me slip through my fingers over what? A stupid movie?"

My head shook. I tried to cry, I felt the need to cry, but there weren't any left. I'd cried myself to drought stage. I was a human Mojave Desert, and destined to be as lonely as the Joshua trees that lived there.

Unfortunately, my life had very different ideas about what my next step was. Much as I wanted to do everything I could to try and fix what I'd done wrong, it didn't seem right to try and initiate contact only to be pulled away repeatedly for more of what had kept us apart in the first place.

My insane, crazy job.

Not two days after the second worst day of my quarter century, I was thrust into the interview and photo shoot circuit that led up to every movie premiere – especially one with as much advance buzz as this one was getting. Shattered was the odds on favorite to rake in the nominations and awards and the movie hadn't even opened yet.

Edward wasn't ever far from my thoughts, though, and slow times and evenings were usually spent bent over a keyboard, staring at a flashing cursor that did nothing but mock me with words that just wouldn't come.

When Mom had called to ask about Thanksgiving, asking if I'd wanted to get out of town for the holiday instead of the usual dinner at her place and sunset walk on the beach afterwards, I'd jumped on the idea.

What surprised me was that she wanted to go back to Phoenix.

It wasn't until we were on the plane that Mom confessed her true purpose in the trip. It wasn't nostalgia for our old home, or even an attempt to get me away from LA for a few days. Mom's plans centered entirely around herself, and Phil, the guy she'd met on the cruise ship months ago. Apparently, they'd been keeping up a conversation, through email and phone calls, and wanted to see each other in person again. Thanksgiving meant she had time off without wasting precious vacation days; it seemed the perfect time for a visit.

I'd been the only wrinkle because she'd said there was no way she was leaving me alone for the holiday. I snorted when she'd revealed that. Even if I'd had plans, there'd have been no way I was letting her go without me there to scope this guy out, too. Not that I hadn't already had Jake investigate the guy (he'd come up clean, just a widower who had given up on a pro, or semi-pro career, to coach high school baseball.) I still wanted to meet him myself.

In hindsight, I should have just stayed home.

Phil was a great guy. He took us on a sight-seeing trip to all the places we'd loved years ago, took us to dinner several times, even made us a full turkey dinner for the holiday. He treated me like I was nothing more than Renee's daughter which was appreciated, and he treated her like she'd hung the moon just for him. After so many years alone, it was refreshing to see her smile so readily, to hear the trill of her laughter again.

Happy as I was for her, for them, watching them fall in love did nothing but bring back my own painful memories and the great love I'd had and let slip through my fingers. Listening to her wax poetic about him, about falling in love, in our hotel suite at night didn't help any.

I started counting down the days until we'd fly back home and I could stop having to spend every night pretending not to be hurting over her happiness.

"Bella?" Mom turned to me, after our return flight had lifted off.

"Mmm?" I said, looking up from the magazine I wasn't reading.

"I was just wondering. How you'd feel if..." She broke off, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.

"Spit it out, Mom," I teased.

"Well. Phil asked me if I'd ever considered moving back to Phoenix."

My hands froze in the middle of turning a page. "Did he?"

More lip-worrying. "Yeah."

"Seems a funny thing to ask."

"Well. Not in the context of the conversation."

"Which was?" I knew where she was heading, it was all over her face and in the way she kept touching the middle finger of her left hand…like she was looking for a ring.

"Phil proposed last night."

I tried to smile, but all it reminded me all too much about what I'd lost, the proposal I'd received and then cast away. "That's great, Mom."

"You don't seem very happy for me," she sniffed and I could see the hurt in her eyes.

"I am, really. For both of you. Phil's a great guy."

"Bella, what is it?" She took both of my hands in hers, squeezed them lightly.

"Nothing, Mom. Really. It just reminds me of…"

"Of…?" she asked, clearly she had no idea what I was talking about.

"Edward."

It was the first time I'd said his name, hadn't even thought it since I'd told him leaving that morning was up to him. The pain was exquisite, a starburst through my body with a bittersweet aftertaste. A residual ache for all I'd lost.

Mom's eyebrows drew together. "Edward? But, he was over a long time ago, Bella. Why would that be bothering you now?"

There was something in her voice, something so painfully familiar I nearly gasped out loud from the realization. My mother had sounded just like Scott had that day in the trailer. And just like Scott, she hadn't acted upset that he was no longer a part of my life.

"I love him, Mom. Still."

Her head shook. "You always were a constant little thing, Bella." The way she said it, the tone of her voice, made it sound like it was some character flaw she'd long since stopped trying to correct.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you don't like change, you like things to stay as they are, even if it's not the right choice for you. And that you always have a hard time recovering from any change, especially unexpected ones."

Another piece of the puzzle settled into place as I saw the past few months from a different angle. "And you decided to help me make a different choice, didn't you, Mom? What? I didn't listen well enough to what you told me that night you came to dinner, about not dragging him into my crazy life for some affair?"

"Nonsense. I was never anything but nice to that man, Bella."

"I know, and that's the worst part." I laughed, the sound far from humorous. "You were all smiles and hugs when he was walking you out to the car and kissing your cheek. It was just when things started to get rough around the edges that you dropped the ball."

"I don't know what you mean."

She did, though. I could see the guilt in her eyes. On a normal day, I might have let it go. After watching her spend a week reveling in what I'd never have again? I wasn't as forgiving as I'd normally be.

"Sure you do. You were as bad as Scott was. I didn't see it when I first told you what had happened, what he'd intentionally done to sabotage my relationship with Edward. I see it now, though. You were just as bad. Maybe worse because you thought you were doing me a favor not just trying to further a career."

"Bella."

"Save it, Mom. Occupational hazard for me? A near photographic memory. I can read through a script once, twice, have it down. I can remember scene blocking for movies I did years ago. Mostly, though, I can remember heartfelt chats over dinner and pedicures and spa massages. You remember those, Mom?"

Her pallor told me she did.

"I wanted to tell Scott to go to hell and just leave for the weekend, go up and surprise Edward. You told me Edward would be fine, that I had a career to think about."

"And you did. You can't walk off a movie set and expect other directors to line up to work with you again."

I continued as if I hadn't heard her. "I wanted to send Edward a plane ticket to come down for George's premiere, remember? Because I'd told him the fish stick story and I thought he'd have fun meeting the guy I'd puked all over. You reminded me how miserable he was at Paul's and said I should leave him be."

"He was miserable, Bella. You said so yourself, that you'd even fought about it."

"And you knew, for a fact, that he'd have a miserable time again?"

"He wasn't happy in LA, Bella. He hated the cameras, the press, the shouting, the wanna-be starlets with grabby hands. You said it all the time. You said how happy he was to get 'home' when you were back in that miserable little rain-soaked town. Your life is here, his is there. And I wasn't about to stand by and watch you throw your career away just to get sucked into living in that hellacious place when I'd worked so hard to get us out of there."

The magazine in my hands started shaking. "Please tell me this isn't what you were after. Please tell me you didn't work on undermining my happiness with Edward because you were afraid I'd move to Forks."

"No, of course not. I wasn't thinking about that at all."

The sad part was, I wasn't sure if I could believe her or not. It might not have been the whole reason, but it was part of it.

"Then what? Edward's happiness? Mine? Because in case you haven't noticed, I haven't exactly been turning cartwheels and skipping through gardens since he left."

"I'm sure Edward bounced back just fine, and so will you. Eventually."

"And in the mean time, I'm supposed to hug and kiss you and congratulate you that Phil proposed and you're moving back to Phoenix."

She was silent. Bull's-eye.

"I haven't accepted yet. I wanted to talk to you about it first. Clearly that's not such a good idea right now."

"Does he know?"

"Does he know what?"

"About Daddy. Does he know about us living there, about Daddy dying there?"

"Of course he knows, Bella. That was how we first started talking on the ship."

"And it doesn't bother him? He's not worried, harboring insecurities, about your memories over Dad if you move back?"

"I don't think so." I could see worry creep into her eyes.

I let her stew over that idea for a few minutes, watching her face contort with little worries she hadn't considered. When I spoke, it was very soft. "Now ask yourself how you'd feel if I used that little bit of insecurity to make you start to doubt yourself, doubt Phil." My voice broke when I tried to speak, I'd had to clear it twice to get all the words out. "All in the name of just wanting what was best for you when really, I just didn't want you to move away from me and have someone in your life that might just mean more to you than I do?"

I felt no happiness, no vindication when I saw the truth hit her right between the eyes. Just the same pain I'd been living with for weeks. Because no matter how the tables turned, no matter that Mom now saw her actions for what they were – hurtful rather than helpful – the end result was still the same.

I'd listened to others, heeded their advice rather than the urgings of my heart.

Now I had a lifetime alone to dwell on it.

It took a few days for Mom to show up, eyes swollen from tears and sleepless nights. There were more tears, together this time, as we talked and tried to repair the rip in our relationship. She'd always be my mother, I'd always love her, but there was this little flaw in the fabric now. One we both knew would never entirely go away.

As Christmas neared, I started to think about Edward a lot. Think about him, dream about him, wake up crying his name in both ecstasy and longing. I went back to spending my nights staring at a blank email, trying to find any words to put on paper to explain the last few days, weeks, the hell of my life since I'd let him go.

Alice and I maintained our working relationship by ignoring the fact she had a brother, like best friends on the opposite sides of a heated debate. We stayed friends because we just never brought it up. No matter how much I wanted to know how he was – I just couldn't bring myself to ask her. It wasn't fair.

Some nights I closed down the computer entirely and spent hours staring at my phone instead, my fingers hovering over the keypad. Sometimes I'd get as far as scrolling through my contacts to his name before I chickened out.

What could I say if he actually answered? I'm sorry for being an idiot who had so little faith in you that I let you go at the first sign of trouble?

Yeah, that's probably exactly what I had to say.

I was just having a hell of a time getting up the courage to do it.

I didn't find that courage until providence interceded…in the guise of a gossip reporter of all things.

I was at a Starbucks in Hollywood, killing time before I had to be at a fitting for the dress I'd be wearing to the Shattered premiere in a few days time. There were occasional clicks around me, the camera phone sort that I'd learned to mostly tune out over the years.

I didn't look up until the chair opposite me scraped across the tile floor and I heard the exhale of someone taking the seat. Rude bastard.

"Excuse me," I began, looking over the top of my laptop with a glare. The glare intensified when I saw the face. I'd have preferred some ballsy fan trying to sit at the table with me to seeing her face.

"Hello, Bella."

I growled. "Piss off, Tanya."

She tsked happily. "Such language from America's Sweetheart, all poised to set the world on fire with her new epic romance. Hardly flattering."

"I'm sorry, didn't you hear me? Piss. Off." I said each word clearly then looked back down at my monitor.

"Come now, Bella. We're more civilized than that, aren't we?"

"Not really," I said, still not looking at her. "I've had too many of my friends punctured with your poisoned pen to be anything close to civil."

"By friends you mean Edward? Certainly you're not still upset over those little articles, are you? I mean, that's over, right? Been over for awhile? Or are you keeping him on the side like a yummy side dish you don't want to share with the other diners?"

I slammed the laptop shut and pushed my chair back. I wasn't in the mood to sit and listen to this shit.

"Wait."

It was ingrained in me to ignore her. My body was hardwired for it.

"Please." The simple word stopped me. The word and the tone. She sounded… sincere. A sincere gossip columnist?

I knew it was probably a sign of the apocalypse. Nevertheless, I stayed.

"I'm sorry. Some things are just habit and you're so easily ruffled. Will you sit a moment? I've got something I need to talk to you about. Off the record."

I turned slowly. The simper that she was so famous for, both written and spoken, was gone. Whatever had brought her to my table was serious.

I resumed my seat but kept my guard up. "Off the record?"

She nodded.

That was enough to have me listen, but I was still going to measure every word I said. "I've got ten minutes before my appointment. You can have five of them."

Tanya reached into her bag and handed me a manila envelope. "What's this?"

"This is a print out of emails sent to me, as well as scanned newspaper articles that were sent as attachments to those emails from my source."

"Your source?"

"Mmm. The one who told me your Edward's name, sent me the photo of him and that woman at his hospital."

The pain that speared me when she'd called him mine was quickly erased by anger and dread.

"I'm not sure, but I'm pretty confident she's also the one that alerted the press that you were in the hospital there after your accident. She never outright said it, but she hinted a lot."

The hand holding the envelope started to shake. What was in here? Could I handle seeing what Edward was doing that was noteworthy enough to have someone sending it to Tanya looking for payment and publication?

Unable to stop myself, I opened the envelope and pulled out the information she'd given me. When I finished scanning it all, my hands were shaking again.

"Why are you telling me this, giving it to me?"

She laughed, mirthlessly. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not really heartless, Bella. You were so happy with him, those few times we saw you together. God, it radiated off of you like solar flares. I don't know when it happened, of course, but it's clear by looking at you that he's not in your life anymore. I don't know if I had a hand in that or not with things I printed. On the off chance I did, I wanted to rectify that."

I stared at her, more stunned than if she'd told me her next stop was pledging her life to a convent.

"I know, I know. Just don't let it get out, okay?" She smiled.

"Who would believe me if I did?" I asked truthfully.

"Point to you. Look. About that." A wave of her hand indicated the envelope I held clutched in my fist. "I won't publish it, ever, and if I get wind anyone else is about to, I'll do my best to quash it. That's the best I can promise. I didn't make copies and I've deleted the email used to send the information to me."

"I don't know what to say."

She smiled again. "How about an exclusive interview? I was actually a journalist once upon a time, I think I can remember how to write and not sensationalize the hell out of it."

I nodded once. There wasn't much I wouldn't promise to keep what I held from ever seeing the light of day. "It's a deal." I held out my hand and shook hers once, both of my hands holding tight to hers. "Thank you, Tanya. From me, from her."

"Good luck."

She left me alone then and I slipped the printed email out of the envelope again and stared at the words.

Dear Tanya,

We're becoming regular pen pals, aren't we? Hehehehe. This is so awesome. Think I could come out there sometime, meet you in person? That would be great, don't you think!

So I've attached the stuff I found in Mom's desk. Should get you some great traffic on your site. There's only the one pic, so not expecting as much $ this time, but anything would be great.

Thanks and ttyl!

Jess

It took me a second to place the name to the face. Jess. Jessica. The bitchy nurse that had only big smiles for Edward, death scowls for me during my entire stay at the Port Angeles hospital.

The last puzzle piece fell into place. The last bit of sabotage, the last person fighting to make sure Edward and I never found that happy ending together.

The information Jessica had sent was nothing I expected.

An arrest sheet from decades ago, one Esme Platt from Chicago, Illinois, and her repeated arrests for solicitation. There was even a mug shot, one that made it very clear that the woman arrested was none other than Edward's mother. Those green eyes were unmistakable.

My phone buzzed a reminder that I was now running very, very late for Kate's. I wrapped up the information from Tanya, and my laptop. I put both into my bag and walked the few blocks to Kate's loft.

I barely remember what happened at the fitting.

Someone must have tipped Alice off that something was wrong with me, because she was waiting for me when I got home.

"Bella? What is it? Are you sick?" She was on me like a mother hen before I could even get out of my car.

"I'm fine, Alice." She shot me a look. "Okay, I'm mostly fine."

She led me into the house where she had two glasses of white wine already poured. "Kate said you looked like you were stoned or something. Said she only let you drive home because you weren't slurring and your pupils weren't all huge. I can see by looking at you that you're not all there. So out with it, okay? What happened?"

"Tanya stopped by Starbucks right before I went to Kate's."

Alice sniffed. "That old cow? What'd she want this time, spread a little more misery?"

I shook my head and handed the envelope to her. "No. She wanted to give me this. It was sent to her for publication, by the same person who's been feeding her information all along about…the one that sent her the pictures of Edward with Amalie."

I handed the envelope to her and picked up the wineglass, draining it in one throw then pouring myself another.

The silence was almost physically painful.

"Oh my God. How did she...did Edward tell you about this? About Mom?"

I shook my head. "No, he didn't."

"Does it bother you?"

My eyes went to slits. "Because we've been friends so long, I'm not going to toss this wine in your face for even thinking it."

Mollified, Alice went back to examining the emails, the picture and the rap sheet. "And what's she's planning on doing with this?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah, right," Alice snorted.

"That's what she promised and, call me crazy, but I believe her." I told her about my conversation with Tanya, the deal I'd made and the genuine remorse I'd seen in her eyes. "I thought I'd give it to you, that you'd make sure it got back to your mom, see that that little bitch was fired, covered in honey and staked to an anthill." I knew the last probably wouldn't happen, but a girl could hope.

In the end, Jessica's treachery was the impetus I needed to get off my ass. I was embarrassed over my actions still, mortified at my own weakness and lack of faith and those destructive emotions had kept the words from coming. Anger over Jessica's actions – both against me, against Edward, and against Esme – overrode everything else.

That night I sat down and pulled out some pale blue stationary that had been given to me as a gift years ago and found a pen in my junk drawer. I didn't let myself dwell, didn't stare at the paper. I just put the pen's nib to it and started to write. Half an hour later I put the letter in an envelope, and drove myself to the post office.

The letter might come to nothing, might be sent back unopened or fed into a fireplace. It didn't matter. It was done. I'd taken the chance, made an attempt to rectify the single worst mistake I'd ever made.

Now it was up to fate.