Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen.

My betas - Pickwicksociety, JenKB, GuitarGirl, and Mel/mcc101180 – are the BEST!

Chapter 21 – Mind Fuckery and Ass Whippings

I awoke on Sunday morning feeling like the living dead, having slept fitfully, but somehow the anger I'd gone to sleep with had mysteriously receded overnight. Upon seeing the picture of Edward with the two blonde bimbettes, my first instinct was to write a nasty-gram on Emmett's Facebook wall. My fingers had been poised on the keyboard as my broken heart strung together fragmented messages: I'm so happy Edward seems to be feeling better–that didn't take long. It seems my guilt these past two weeks was unfounded.

But, fortunately, I'd paused long enough to rein in the impulsive need to lash out. I wasn't fifteen anymore. I was a grown woman, and such behavior would be undignified and immature. Instead, I'd turned off the computer, crawling into bed to escape my ironically sad reality. Maybe irony was just a tidy label for "the universe is fucking with you" because just when I'd begun to believe I might be able to free myself from the fear of Edward's deployment, and just when I'd acknowledged to myself that I was crazy in love with him, I'd learned that his feelings for me were not what I'd believed.

I sighed at that thought, sipping from my cup of steaming coffee while staring blankly at the emerging red blooms of the bougainvilleas, their trailing vines swallowing up the dingy block wall. It was a beautiful spring morning in the valley of the sun–neither hot nor cold. Hypnotized by the flowering crimson wall, I acknowledged that Edward had every right to move on. My initial anger had yielded to sad resignation. I'd been so certain that Edward's feelings ran as deeply as mine, and so it was unsettling to realize that I was wrong. I'd been wrong about Jacob, and I was wrong about Edward. I was beginning to believe that I shouldn't trust my own judgment as it seemed that I was unable to read people accurately. This realization was more than just a little unsettling–it was terrifying.

Obviously, Edward had liked me, but if his affection for me was as strong as mine for him, he wouldn't have been canoodling with girls in a bar. I didn't even want to look at another man, and the idea of someone other than Edward flirting and hanging all over me was actually repulsive.

Setting my coffee mug on the glass top of the wrought-iron table, I picked up my pen and began jotting down random thoughts. Writing my feelings in a journal had been a lifeline for me since my twelfth birthday. My dad had given me a diary for my birthday, and I'd been writing regularly ever since, evidenced by a large box in my closet that held about twenty notebooks detailing my life.

Writing was cathartic for me. Sometimes through putting pen to paper, a solution to a problem would become clear, or I'd become more self-aware about the inner workings of my psyche. Even if neither of those things happened, writing purged me of the toxicity of negative emotions. Picturing myself in Edward's arms, his green eyes smiling at me, my pen began moving across the paper.

Like a rose without scent,

Like a dance without music,

Like a world without sunsets…

Oh, hell! I cringed, realizing I'd just written really shitty, clichéd poetry. I chuckled, shaking my head. It didn't matter, I supposed, as it was for my eyes only. I started again, trying to give a voice to the swirling emotions inside that beat against my chest, needing to be freed.

Emptiness,

Full to the brim.

Confusion is part of me,

That much is clear.

Submerged in showers

Of Paradoxes.

That was a little better; I kind of liked it. It wasn't Wordsworth quality, but it was mine.

Last week, Mr. Bailey had given me responsibility for teaching a poetry unit to his tenth grade class. I'd defined and given examples to the students of several poetic devices, such as metaphor, simile, personification, and alliteration. Pushing aside my journal, I picked up the stack of poems the class had turned in on Friday. Reading adolescents' attempts at writing poetry would surely distract me from my sullen musings.

As I read and graded the poems, I took a large gulp of my now tepid coffee. They were easy to grade. The assignment was to write a poem utilizing at least three poetic devices. They either did that or they didn't–whether the poem was crap or not didn't matter. Certainly a few of the poems were cringe-worthy, but I was exhilarated to discover a few that were rather outstanding.

About thirty minutes later, with my coffee mug empty and the poems graded, I went back inside. After showering, I ate a quick lunch of leftover pasta salad before deciding to succumb to self-indulgence by watching Pride and Prejudice–the Colin Firth version, of course. It was not only self-indulgent but decidedly masochistic of me. I was okay with that because sometimes a good down-and-dirty wallowing in your misery is necessary before you can get beyond it. However, proper wallowing must be done alone, so I was glad that Alice was with her parents having brunch for a few hours.

I was doing quite well holding myself together until the scene where Mr. Darcy unexpectedly discovers Elizabeth at his home, and together they walk through the beautiful gardens of Pemberley Park. Tears pricked at my eyes, blurring the television screen as I replayed the memory of strolling through Boboli Gardens arm in arm with Edward. Closing my eyes, I bit my bottom lip hard, preferring physical pain over the paralyzing longing that gripped me. My chest fucking ached with want and yearning to be back in that moment with Edward–or in any moment with him. I missed him so deeply. I allowed myself a good cry before turning off the television and padding off to the bathroom to clean up my tear-stained face.

A few minutes later, I came out of the bathroom, heading toward my bedroom.

"Ohhh, sweet Jesus," I yelped, almost colliding with Alice. "You scared the freaking shit out of me, woman."

"I'm sorry, Bella," she said, though given her howls of laughter, I didn't quite believe the apology.

Wrapping her arms around her waist, she bent over as she giggled. "Your face–oh, god–your expression was fucking hilarious."

I smiled. "It's good to hear you laughing . . . even though you nearly put me into cardiac arrest, but anything for you, darling."

She stopped laughing abruptly and looked at me perplexedly. "Bella? Have you been crying?"

Ever observant, she could see the same bloodshot, swollen eyes that had been staring back at me in the bathroom mirror. "Uh, maybe . . . sort of . . . um, yeah." There was no point denying it. I'd learned from experience that Alice was practically clairvoyant.

"Did something happen, or were you just thinking about Edward?"

"Um, both, I guess?"

"Let's sit," she instructed, grabbing my hand and leading me to the living room.

I sat next to her on the sofa, pulling my feet up under me. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding before meeting her eyes. "Have you seen the picture of Edward on Emmett's Facebook page?"

Her eyebrows lifted above her narrowed eyes. "Do you mean the pictures from last night at the bar?"

I nodded.

"Yeah, I saw them." She looked at me blankly. "And?"

"And . . . didn't you see the two blonde Barbie dolls Edward was hanging out with? I thought he was so heartbroken that Emmett couldn't even get him to go out?"

Alice's mouth fell open, and she reached out, taking my hand in hers. "Oh, honey, no, no, no!" She squeezed my hand comfortingly. "They were with Irina and Kate; they've known them since like third grade or something. Emmett said they're like sisters to them."

"What?" I whispered, my pulse quickening with hope.

"Emmett said he still had to practically kick Edward's ass to get him to go out, and the only reason he went was because they haven't seen the girls in a couple of years since they moved to California. They were in town for a family birthday or something."

I stared at Alice, blinking blindly as I processed her words. Feeling emotionally whiplashed, I burst into tears and laughter at the same time, covering my face with my hands. I flopped back, resting my head on the sofa. "Oh, thank Christ! I am such a freaking idiot," I sputtered through my cupped hands. I looked at Alice, smiling like a goon as I tried to dry my tear-stained cheeks with my hands. "I thought . . . oh, god . . . I thought that–"

"You thought Edward had already forgotten about you and was whoring it up?"

I nodded, and Alice looked at me, astonishment etched in her features. "I don't know whether I want to comfort you or smack you! That was some stellar dumbfuckery thinking, Bella!"

"Apparently, and I've never been so happy to admit to being a dumbfuck." I giggled, still grinning ear to ear.

"Bella, why would you automatically think the worst? I don't understand."

"I don't know!" I said exasperatedly. "I just . . . I'm not sure. I guess my fears clouded my judgment." I shrugged, trying to make sense of my convoluted train of thought. "I saw my fears reflected in the picture or some psychobabble like that."

The next few days passed quickly. I kept myself busy with teaching during the day and preparing lessons in the evening. Before I knew it, Wednesday had arrived, and I found myself sitting on Riley's leather couch beginning another therapy session.

"Bella, people whose lives are controlled by fear of abandonment typically exhibit one of three different behavior patterns." Riley twirled his pen in his fingers, his tone professional and soothing.

"Some people compulsively reach out to others–to anyone–to have around them. They might panic if someone doesn't call them back or is late. They might even become angry and threatening, trying to manipulate the person to stay with them.

"On the other end of the spectrum, some people with fear of abandonment become very submissive and acquiesce to the important people in their life so as to not upset them. They tiptoe around, fearful of doing something that would make their loved one leave.

"But others go still in another direction and push people away in an attempt to protect themselves from being left, from being abandoned. Even if the relationship is going well, the person being controlled by fear of abandonment might be compelled to leave the relationship, believing that it's only a matter of time before something goes wrong. This is what you've done with Edward, correct?"

"Um, yeah, I guess so," I answered sheepishly.

Riley smiled, his eyes full of what could only be described as compassion. "Bella, it's nothing to be ashamed of. You've suffered some significant losses. Your reaction to Edward's news was an automatic and unconscious attempt to protect yourself. But remember–you came out of the grief and suffering when your marriage ended. You triumphed. And if something happened to Edward in Iraq, you would endure it and survive yet again."

"I know you're right. I mean, I learned from the hell I went through with Jacob that I'm stronger than I ever thought." I couldn't hold his gaze, my eyes wandering to my fingers as I picked at my cuticle. "It's just that . . . I don't ever want to feel that kind of pain and despair again. I know it would pass eventually, but going through it is utter hell."

"I understand. It's human nature to want to avoid pain, but without sadness there can be no joy. Without risk, there is no reward. I know those are just words to you right now. You know cerebrally that what I'm saying is true, but your fear is overpowering your logic. So our task is to acknowledge the fear, talk it out, face it head on, and by doing so, it begins to lose power over you."

I nodded. "Okay."

"Today we're going to return to the beginning. What are some of your memories from around the time your mom took you away from your dad when they divorced?"

Well, damn. What had I gotten myself into? I let out a shaky breath, digging deeply to retrieve shards of memories of a little girl who couldn't understand why Daddy wasn't around anymore.

"How was it?" I repeated her question sarcastically before stuffing a salsa-laden tortilla chip into my mouth. After washing it down with a generous gulp of a mango margarita, I answered, "Well, it was the same as my session on Wednesday–absolutely freaking exhausting."

I'd come straight from my appointment with Riley to the restaurant for Friday night happy hour with Alice.

"You're going to stick with it though, right?" Alice urged, her hands cradling a gargantuan margarita glass.

I think Alice's margarita might have been bigger than her head, which meant that if she drank even half of it, I would have to insist she leave her car here and drive her home in mine. Either that or we'd need to have a six hour dinner until the alcohol filtered through her system.

"Yesss," I answered, rolling my eyes disdainfully. "But I totally get why people refuse to go to counseling or quit after a few sessions. It's brutal. But I suppose I have extra incentive to get my shit together–a very intelligent, charming, and sexy-as-hell incentive."

I giggled, popping another chip into my mouth. Holy mother duck, the chips and salsa at this joint were freaking addictive. I pushed the basket of crispy-corn-saturated-fat goodness across the table toward Alice. "Pleeease, get these evil things away from me. I'm out of control."

"And we both know how much you like to be in control!" Alice deadpanned, grinning mischievously.

"Har-dee-har-har, funny girl. Why do you think I'm in therapy?" I paused as a thought occurred to me. "Um, by the way, I know you've been in touch with Emmett. It probably goes without saying, but could you not say anything to Em about me seeing a shrink?"

"Yes, of course that goes without saying. That's nobody's business but your own."

"Soo . . . you've been emailing Emmett or what?"

"Yes, at first, but lately we've been talking on the phone."

"And? Have you two finally said the words-that-could-not-be-said when you were in Europe?"

Alice chuckled. "What words? Do you mean 'Emmett, I wanna fuck you into next year'? Or 'I want to make like a stripper and slide down your pole'? Or maybe "Em, I want to blow you harder than a hurricane'?"

I snickered, shaking my head in amusement and admiration that she could say that shit without blinking. "No, that's not what I had in mind, but it would probably get his attention. No point in mincing words, right?"

"Though it's true I want to ride him like the Pony Express, that's not what I said. But, yeah, we've admitted that there's an attraction and interest there. In fact, we're planning for me to fly up to Seattle for a visit after graduation."

My eyes popped open. "Holy shit! For reals?"

I knew Alice was a go-getter, so I shouldn't have been surprised she was being proactive and going after what she wanted. I was happy for her; she was still dealing with the guilt from hurting Jasper and the sadness in losing him from her life–at least temporarily. I was certain that in time they would mend their friendship. She deserved happiness, and I honestly hoped she would find it with Emmett. Still, a twinge of envy swept over me at the thought of her going to Seattle. Most likely, she'd see Edward.

"Yep, and I'm really hoping you'll come with me to see Edward," she added.

"I don't know, Al. I mean, I want to. I ache to see Edward again more

than . . . more than I need air. But as soon as I imagine him leaving for the war zone for who knows how long, I am freaking paralyzed with panic. I just don't know how long it's going to take me to get past that."

"I know, but it could be something you work toward. Graduation is May 18th, and I'm flying to Seattle a couple of days later. Just keep May in your head as a goal, okay?"

"Yes, absolutely." I nodded with a smile, feeling even more determined to take the power away from the fear that controlled me.

Another week of teaching dragged by, along with two more therapy sessions. Riley always pushed me to my limit, reliving memories and articulating emotions I didn't even know I had. It was often painful and exhausting–mentally and emotionally. So much so that I'm not certain I would have continued if not for the very motivating potential reward at the end of the therapy mindfuckery tunnel–one Edward Cullen.

And so it was with my eye on that priceless prize that I busied myself with lesson plans, teaching, grading, and each Wednesday and Friday, with therapy sessions. I didn't go out. I didn't party. I didn't hang out with friends except for Alice. I was like a fierce Spanish bull hypnotized by the enticing red cape, which in my case was graduation from ASU and reuniting with Edward. I could see nothing else.

It was with that mindset that I put pen to paper as I lay curled up on my side on my bed. Alice was gone once again for her traditional Sunday brunch with her parents. On Friday, Riley had given me another homework assignment. This time I was to make a list of all the important people in my life and determine how devastated I would be if those people left me. Riley explained that it would show to what degree I was dependent on them. I couldn't control the roll of my eyes when Riley had explained the assignment. He just chuckled, saying that I didn't have to understand the psychological reason for the exercise–I just had to do it.

The easy part was writing down the names of the important people in my life. The hard part was articulating how devastated I would be if they left. How in the hell do you quantify such a thing? Maybe I should do a rating scale. On a scale of one to ten, how much would I want to slit my wrists if my dad left . . . or died? My mom? Alice? Seth?

I tossed aside my pen, rubbing my eyes as anxiety crept over me. Fucking Seth. It wasn't exactly a hypothetical question when it came to Seth. He'd already left me–choosing drugs over his family–and death was a very real possibility.

I scooted off the bed, settling in front of the computer. I quickly opened Facebook, hoping to find some recent activity on Seth's profile. I hadn't checked it in a few weeks. If he would just post one freaking thing then I'd at least have some peace knowing he was still alive. I clicked on his profile only to be met with disappointment. Nothing. No activity. No Seth.

What a difference a week can make. I'd gone from turning down all offers to get out of the house and socialize to being the one to organize and plan a Saturday outing with my girlfriends.

Since I'd last seen Edward over five weeks ago, I hadn't really been enjoying life. I'd reluctantly attended Jasper's birthday party, and I'd hung out with Alice for a couple of happy hours, but other than that, I had turned down every single social invitation from friends and family. I didn't feel like socializing because I wasn't happy; I was hopeful and focused, but I wasn't happy. I told myself that I was simply single-minded, busy with teaching and with therapy, but in reality, I was still wallowing in my solitary life, grieving being apart from Edward. I insulated myself in a cocoon of teaching, therapy and daydreams of my Adonis. When Riley discovered my lack of social life yesterday during our Friday session, he had words for me, to say the least.

"Bella, I looked up the lyrics for that song you told me about–the one that played a part in your decision to start therapy." Riley stood up and walked behind the desk, pulling a file out from a drawer. Returning to his brown leather chair, he sat down and opened the folder, retrieving a piece of paper. "Humor me while I refresh your memory with some of the lines of the lyric.

That I would be grand if I was not all knowing
That I would be loved even when I numb myself
That I would be good even when I am overwhelmed
That I would be loved even when I was fuming
That I would be good even if I was clingy
That I would be good even if I lost sanity
That I would be good
Whether with or without you."

Riley closed the file, looking up at me with a cocked eyebrow. "Bella, shutting friends and family out of your life is not 'being good without him,' as the song says. Yes, it's normal and even healthy, to a degree, to hide yourself away and lick your wounds. But at some point, it becomes counterproductive, and then you have to 'fake it until you make it.'" He smiled, making air quotes with his fingers.

"Also, I know you've been working hard to get to a place where you can take the risk with Edward. He's a big motivation for you being here, but you seem to have put your life on hold, waiting for the time you can be reunited with him. But what if he doesn't take you back, Bella? You need to be prepared for that and not wait for him to make you happy. You have to get out there and enjoy life even if you have to pretend at first. You need to find your own happiness–without him."

I sighed. I wanted to argue with him, but a little voice inside me said that he was right on the money. "You're a damn good psychologist, Mr. Biers." I chuckled, giving him a small smile.

He returned the smile. "Well, thank you, but that remains to be seen. So, Bella, your next homework assignment is to do at least one thing with friends or family this weekend–something that takes you out of your house. Agreed?"

"Yes, sir!"

And that is why I found myself on a warm spring Sunday afternoon with my legs spread wider than I thought physically possible. I wished my legs were spread for Edward instead of you, Smokey, I thought, looking down in amazement at the massive girth of the black horse beneath me.

"Are you okay, Bella?" Angela asked, not even trying to hide her mocking laughter. "You look like you're about to blow chunks!"

"Well, if I do, I'll be sure to blow them your way, bi-atch."

Alice giggled. "Seriously, Bella, are you all right?"

"God, you twits, shut it! Everyone is looking at me now. Sheesh!" I shook my head in exaggerated irritation. "I'm fine. I just . . . I had no idea horses were so freaking tall."

Angela and Alice looked at each other, bursting into loud laughter again. The other riders in our group eyed us curiously.

"You didn't know that horses are tall? Really?" Alice's voice was sarcastic but playful.

"You know what the flip I mean! Yes, I knew they were tall, but I didn't realize just how scary big they are until I got up here. The ground is too far away. It's gonna hurt like hell if I fall off."

"Relax, Bella. These aren't bucking broncos," Angela reassured me. "They're ridden by inexperienced riders every day."

"And this was your idea, Bella," Alice added.

"I know, I know. That doesn't mean I can't be nervous."

I had taken my assignment from Riley seriously. If I had to get out of my cozy cocoon, I was going to explore life to the fullest by doing something outside of my comfort zone. With some help from Google, I'd found a place in Mesa on the outskirts of the city that offered horseback riding.

Our guide whistled, quickly getting everyone's attention. "Okay, listen up. I'm Ricky, and I'll be your guide. It's a beautiful day for horseback riding through the Sonoran Desert. For the most part, the horses will follow me and stick with the group. However, it's still important that you know how to guide your horse."

Ricky proceeded to instruct us on the basics of horseback riding. He explained how to get the horse to walk or run by hitting the sides of the animal with your heels. He told us to pull on the rein to tell the horse to stop, and tug on the right rein to get the horse to turn to the right and vice versa. It sounded simple enough.

As Ricky took off toward the trail, I nudged Smokey with my heels. He followed the other riders at a leisurely pace, and after a few minutes, I began to relax and enjoy the experience. There was a slight breeze dancing across my skin, and I took in my surroundings with a peaceful smile. We passed a Saguaro cactus that had to be at least ten feet tall. There were several Prickly Pear cactus, sagebrush, and lots of little plants and shrubs that I had no idea what they were called. The scenery was beautiful in a deserty kind of way, though I much preferred the lively green of Washington . . . and the green of Edward's eyes, but I digress.

"This was a brill idea, Bella. I haven't been riding in years," Alice said, looking back at me.

Angela was also up ahead of me near Alice. She looked over her shoulder and yelled, "Are you enjoying yourself now, Bella?"

"Yeah, I'm good," I shouted back. They were getting further and further ahead. I looked around, suddenly realizing that everyone was passing me by. I nudged Smokey with my heels to get him to speed up, but he continued with his lazy pace. I nudged him again–nothing.

I looked up to see the group ascending a small hill. As Smokey and I approached the hill, he stopped. He just stopped walking. I hit his sides, but he wouldn't budge. I glanced up to see everyone at the top of the hill, staring down at me as they waited. I was the very last one.

Ricky hollered, "Dig your heels into his side!"

"I did!" I yelled back.

"Harder," Ricky instructed.

I kicked my legs straight out and then pulled them back in with force, hitting Smokey's sides with my heels. Nada. Apparently, Smokey was tired or he needed to take a dump or something, but that boy was not moving.

I looked up again, unsure what to do. I had about fifteen pairs of eyeballs on me. Well, this was all kinds of embarrassing, and Alice and Angela weren't helping. They were laughing at me. Alice stopped her guffawing long enough to cup her hands around her mouth as she shouted, "Bella, kick him with everything you've got!"

It just felt wrong to kick a horse as hard as I could. Ricky must have been a freaking mind reader because following Alice's command, he bellowed, "You're won't hurt him. Kick him hard!"

So I did. I kicked old Smokey as hard as my skinny little legs could manage.

"Aaahhh! Oh, my god!" I screamed loud and hard as Smokey hauled ass up the hill. He didn't trot. He didn't even gallop. He tore up the embankment like his tail was on fire, and I screamed like Freddy Krueger's next victim. Very quickly, I realized I better lift my butt off the saddle because it was giving me a brutal ass whipping.

When we got to the top of the hill, Smokey slowed, coming to a stop amongst the other horses. I was panting heavily, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. "Holy shit," I muttered to nobody in particular. Still in a daze, I looked at Angela and Alice who were, of course, laughing their asses off.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" Ricky asked as he sidled up next to me.

"Um, yeah, I just didn't expect that." I chuckled nervously.

"Well, sorry about that. Smokey is harmless, but he does have a mind of his own at times," Ricky explained, smirking.

He turned and trotted away, calling out to the group to follow. Fortunately, Smokey began following behind without needing to be directed. I was scared to try to tell him to do anything now for fear that he'd decide to pretend he was in the Kentucky Derby again.

Alice and Angela trotted up, falling into formation next to me. "Bella, what I wouldn't give to have gotten that on video. We could have won $10,000 on America's Funniest Videos."

Angela laughed heartily. "No kidding! The expression on your face as you came up the hill was hilarious."

I huffed, looking at Angela and then back at Alice with mock disdain. "You guys suck! No comforting words? No 'Are you okay, Bella'? You bitches are the worst friends in the history of BFFs." The words were harsh, but I flashed them a teasing smile.

In reality, I'd gladly suffer another good ass whipping by Smokey if it would bring momentary laughter and levity to Alice. Though she was enjoying the budding of something new with Emmett, it didn't erase the void in her life left by Jasper. As she grieved the loss of that relationship, her smiles had been few and far between.

After Riley had chided me for waiting for Edward to make me happy, it dawned on me that I hadn't been a very good friend to Alice through this difficult time in her life. Yes, we'd had several heart to heart talks about Jasper at home in the evenings or on the weekends. I had been there for her in that way, but I should have made an effort to get her out of the house. I should have helped fill the gaping hole in her life left by Jasper. I should have distracted her by taking her shopping or going to see a movie together. I'd been wholly self-centered, but that was all going to change, starting with our horseback riding adventure.

The terrain suddenly changed as we rode up a slight incline. My chest tightened anxiously when I glanced to my right. There was nothing there–meaning there was about a fifteen foot drop. Smokey trotted along the very edge of the mini-cliff. There was plenty of room for him to move to the left, away from the edge, but he seemed perfectly comfortable with walking as close to the ledge as he could possibly get. I considered tugging on the left rein to get him to move in that direction, but what if he obstinately pulled back to the right, throwing us off the cliff? Or what if he reacted to my guidance by hauling tail again? As nervous as I was riding along the ledge, I was even more scared to incur Smokey's stubborn response. I held my breath, telling myself to not look down. Keeping my focus on the horizon ahead, I tried to reassure myself that Smokey wasn't stupid–he wouldn't step off of a freaking cliff. Even a horse has an innate sense of self-preservation, right?

As we passed the narrow trail and I had solid ground on all sides, I blew out a heavy sigh of relief. Trying to be a good friend since I'd virtually ignored Angela for the past few weeks, I turned my attention to her.

"Ang, you've been oddly quiet about your love life. Did you ever ask Douche Bag Ben out on a date per my advice?"

"Um, not exactly. And don't call him a douche bag."

"You said it first, girlie."

"I know, but I was wrong. He's pretty wonderful actually."

Alice chimed in. "Then you need to go after what you want, Angela. Why haven't you asked him out?"

"I don't know. I'm scared that he'll turn me down. I mean, if he wanted to date me, then he would have asked, right?"

Alice chuckled. "Oh, pee-shaw! Are you kidding? He's probably just as scared of being rejected as you are. You could ask him in a way that isn't quite so nerve-wracking–something that's not face-to-face. We can get creative. Maybe a puzzle or scavenger hunt, or you could leave secret admirer notes on his desk?"

"Oh, I like it, Al!" I looked at Angela, smiling. "How about we go to lunch when we're done here and we can brainstorm? Sound good, Angela?"

She smiled broadly. "Yes, absolutely. You guys are the best!"

I giggled, my heart swelling with gratitude. A genuine smile spread across my face as I took in the rugged beauty of the mesas in the horizon, the dry southwestern breeze lifting my hair. I missed Edward terribly, but in that moment I began to focus on all the wonder in my life. I had a vibrant and healthy body. I enjoyed the love and support of the dearest, most loyal friends. I was about to graduate from college and begin a career that I was passionate about. I wanted Edward; I loved him. But my happiness could not be dependent on another person. Maybe it was possible. Perhaps I could be good–with or without him.

A/N: I know you all miss Edward…so does Bella. Be patient. I promise that Edward will be back very, very soon - in a way you're not expecting. Please stay tuned!

Props to the wonderfully talented gutter mind of Mandaliz for her one-liners that Alice used to describe how badly she wants to "take a ride on Emmett's disco stick."