A/n: Hello all, sorry for the delay and to all of you who are asking if I am going to finish this story... YES! I would never leave you all hanging, I hate it when a fic never gets resolved. This chapter was actually finished a few weeks ago, but it was given a massive re-hash and then Christmas parties etc got a bit in the way. So a huge sorry to you all!

Enjoy! Flubbles xx

End of chapter 20...

I close my eyes wearily, as he speaks with conviction, wanting to believe his words. Suddenly, I feel his soft warm lips brush against mine. His fingers twist into my hair and I collapse into his arms, my hands pressing into his chest, grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt. His tongue slides past my lips and into my mouth, the kiss intensifies. I forget myself and kiss him back hungrily, moaning gently as I pour myself into the embrace.

His hands leave my hair and trace a trail down my back, coming to rest on my hips, I tingle with pleasure. Pressing my body closer to him, I revel in the heat radiating off of him. I slide my hands up his chest and neck, running my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer greedily.

As quickly as it began, the kiss comes to a stop. My eyes spring open and I stare back at an equally shocked Edward. The entire room is deathly quiet, except for the sound of us both panting heavily.

"I'm so sorry. What was I thinking?" He lets me go and puts some space between us as we stare at each other in a state of shock. What have we done?

Chapter 21

Trembling, I trace my index finger along my lips; they're tingling from the intensity of our kiss. I lick my lips tentatively. I can taste him still, sweet and masculine. I clear my throat, unsure of what to say; my mind has never felt so fuzzy. I look at Edward, he's crestfallen. He acknowledges me sadly and pinches the bridge of his nose. Wordlessly he collapses onto the bottom step of the stairs and rests his beautiful head in his hands.

I want to go to him and reassure him that it's ok, that the kiss we just shared has left me feeling more alive than any other moment in my life. I know what happened between us is morally wrong, but it's been so long since a man has touched me and I didn't feel sickened or repelled. I know I should feel awful for kissing him back, but it was wonderful. For the first time, I feel like there is the possibility of a life without James. What does this mean for Edward? For us? Will he want to be something more than just friends? So many questions, I just cannot organise the jumble that has become my thoughts.

My primary aim is to comfort Edward. It's all I can focus on. Managing to persuade my legs to cooperate, I walk awkwardly towards Edward. Extending a hand through the gap in the railings, I place my palm flat on his upper back.

When I initially make contact he flinches and I pause, distressed. I bite my lip to stifle the whimper that threatens to make itself heard. Making an attempt to ignore his obvious discomfort, I leave my hand resting where it is. I eventually feel his shoulders relax and concede. A long deep sigh leaves him and I hear the air force its way through his fingers.

Is it guilt he's feeling, because I'm married and he kissed me? Or does he regret kissing me in the heat of the moment because he doesn't want to risk damaging the friendship we have? I should've known better; I didn't mean to confuse or upset him. Edward is a good man through and through. My initial feelings of hope have evaporated, and doubt is creeping in now that I can see his obvious turmoil. He clearly wishes he could take back what just happened.

It would seem that neither of us knows what to say, as we remain quiet for what feels like an eternity. I decide to take the brave, or perhaps foolish, step of breaking the silence first. I need to offer him an apology. I'm so stupid for thinking so idealistically. He doesn't want to be with me; his body language says it all.

"Edward-" I squeeze his shoulder once before reluctantly removing my hand and continuing.

"I'm so sorry." I wring my hands nervously. Unsure of what to say, it seems like a safe place to begin. He lifts his head slowly and looks at me over his right shoulder. He looks dumbstruck.

"What do you have to apologise for? I should never have kissed you. It was abhorrent and entirely wrong." His voice sounds dejected and quiet. He rises carefully and takes a few steps away from me.

"No, it's completely my fault Edward. Please don't blame yourself, I kissed you back, I should've known better. I shouldn't be so needy. I've been over familiar with you before and you were just reacting to the emotion of the moment." My voice is desperate, pleading with him.

"No!" He shouts. I jump with shock.

It's the first time I've ever heard him raise his voice. I watch him work through his anger, so different to James; a range of emotions flicker across his face. He runs his hands through his hair and takes a few deep breathes to compose himself before speaking.

"I kissed you and I shouldn't have, particularly, with you in your current emotional state Bella. It was one of the most selfish things I have ever done. I won't allow you to take the blame for this." He stares deep into my eyes as he speaks in a determined tone. I can see he's so disappointed with himself.

I shake my head sadly and take a step closer to him. He holds up his hands and takes a step back, clearly indicating for me to stay away. I cover my mouth with my hands as I stifle a sob. He can't even bear to be near me. What have I done?

"Please, Edward!" My voice is desperate. I can't lose him. He's my confidant, my rock. I need him!

"Please what, Bella? You're married and you're in a difficult place emotionally at the moment. I should never have kissed you. It's inexcusable." He shuffles and looks down at his feet.

"I'm not good for you. I've crossed a line and I shouldn't have. I don't think it's a good idea for me to be around you at the moment. I'm so disappointed with myself." He puts his hands in his jean pockets and shrugs apologetically.

"I don't understand. What exactly are you saying?" With trembling fingers I pull my hair from my face and tuck it behind my ears. It's something to distract me while I wait for his answer. I am terrified that he is about to seal the fate of our relationship.

"I think that we should spend some time apart. All the secrecy surrounding the time we share together isn't doing you any good. I don't want to put any added pressure on you. I took advantage of you in your current situation and that was cruel and selfish." He coughs nervously. My eyes widen as I look at him in disbelief.

"I'll finish the orchard on my own, and when you're feeling better, we will talk again. I'm sorry, but I just can't be around you at the moment, Bella." His face twists in pain as his voice softens and he tries to speak matter-of-factly. I know he thinks he's doing this for my own good. But he's wrong.

"Why are you doing this Edward? Is it because you regret kissing me? Do I disgust you?" A single tear falls down my cheek as I look at him through tear-filled eyes.

"No! Never." He whispers, and shakes his head sadly. His voice takes on a sombre tone.

He moves closer to me and places his hand to the side of my face, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away the lone tear that spills over. Relieved I press my face into his palm, closing my eyes. I lift my hand and hold his palm to my face, gently rubbing my fingers over his knuckles. Bliss.

"I have to stay away, because every time I see you...I'll remember our kiss-" he pauses, his thumb stroking my cheek. His voice cracks and I open my eyes to look at him.

"And even though it's wrong, I'll want to do it again." A sad defeated smile dances around the corners of his mouth. My eyes widen in shock at his admission.

"I'll still be around if you need me, but I just think I am causing problems for both of us by spending so much time with you. I don't know what I want at the moment and the last thing I should be doing is cavorting with a married woman and leading you on." He slips his hand from mine and looks around, as if he is thinking about leaving.

"Can't we just pretend it didn't happen and carry on as we were? James doesn't need to know that we kissed. It wasn't just you Edward, I kissed you back! I'm just as guilty. You really don't need to distance yourself from me." My voice takes on a desperate edge as I struggle with the thought of having to spend less time with him.

"I don't think I can look James in the eye, knowing what I've done. It was wrong and I just need some breathing space, Bella." He speaks with such finality; his mind made up, he turns towards the door. I'm not ready for him to leave yet. He can't end it like this, I reach out a hand desperately.

"I'll leave him for you." My words hang in the air; he turns to look at me. He seems to take forever to answer me. I look at him hopefully.

"I couldn't ask you to do that." He looks astonished.

"I wouldn't mind." I duck my head nervously.

"Bella, I'm not ready to start seeing someone, and I think you are having a difficult time at the moment. You and James have hit a rough-patch; jumping into another relationship with me is the last thing you need. Please don't push me on this." He talks reasonably, putting his case forward, his body language passive, pleading with me to understand and not press him further.

I don't know what else to say. I have offered myself up on a platter to him and he isn't interested. One minute he says he wants to kiss me again and the next he is distancing himself from me. I'm so confused. Is he just frightened of commitment? Or does he really not know what he wants? I don't know either way, but I don't want him to go anywhere. I decide to clutch at straws.

"What about the manuscript?" I ask as he stares at me. He sighs.

"Don't worry about it. Keep it as a souvenir. I'm putting it on hiatus. I'm not as ready to write again as I thought I was." His shoulders slump and he bows his head. He opens the door to the house.

He's leaving? That's it!

"Please don't do this, Edward!" I call after him desperately, my voice breaking as I speak.

"I just need some time. Please Bella, it won't be for long." He turns and rests his hands on my shoulders. I feel the weight of him as he pushes down gently. He leans forward and I close my eyes. I feel his lips press gently against my forehead. I gasp and keep my eyes shut tight. A small smile graces my lips.

He pulls away and squeezes my shoulders once with his strong hands, before making his way briskly down the path and disappearing from my view. I'm desperate to follow, but he specifically asked me to give him some space and I want to respect his wishes.

Moments later, I hear the sound of a car engine coming to life. Revving it for good measure, I watch as Edward and his car drive past the house. Naively I lift my hand to wave as he goes by. Our eyes connect as he stares back at me through the rear-view window.

I watch as he mouths the words "I'm sorry."

My eyes fill with tears, as I listen to the drone of the engine fading into the distance.

I lower my hand and clutch the front door, using the strong wood to keep me upright as I feel myself becoming lightheaded and faint. A sweat breaks out on my forehead and the palms of my hands, despite the fact my fingers feel icy cold. I feel physically sick with the shock of what has just happened between us.

I dash to the bathroom and pulling my hair from my face, I clutch it at the nape of my neck. Leaning over the toilet, I relieve my body of our once idyllic lunch. It now feels like a curdled poison in my stomach.

With quivering hands I turn on the tap and fill the basin with cold water. I splash the ice cold liquid on my face and rinse my mouth out. I close my eyes gripping the porcelain of the sink and rest my burning forehead on the pleasantly cool mirror. So many thoughts are whirling around my head; I'm struggling to process them.

Edward kissed me and although he regrets it for reasons of a moral nature, he enjoyed it. And mentioned that he desired to do it again...

I enjoyed it too. But now Edward has gone. Where does that leave me?

I offered myself to him and he turned me down. He doesn't want me. Maybe he truly believes he doesn't deserve another relationship after Tanya. He told me as much, but I hadn't believed him. Maybe he won't ever allow himself to love again. He didn't even entertain the thought that the two of us could embark upon a relationship together. If I had his full support I would be able to leave James. If I had the reassurance of knowing that Edward would look after me, I could leave. Couldn't I?

It's irrelevant now. He's probably just trying to be nice when he says he'll still be around and that I can go to him.

I shake my head and grit my teeth. Thinking like this isn't going to help me at all. I take a deep breath and conclude that my only option is to wait and see. Over the years I have perfected the necessary skills to become an incredibly patient person. I just have to let Edward work through his emotions and in the meantime keep our romantic tryst a secret from James.

Edward will come back to me when he has had time to think all of this through, I'm sure of it. I berate myself for thinking so poorly of him. Whether it's as a friend or something more, I'll take whatever I can get. I just hope he doesn't stay away too long. Perhaps he just went for a drive to clear his head. If so, I could try going to see him tomorrow.

I open my eyes and push away from the basin, I feel marginally better now that I have developed some form of a plan. It may be as simple as just biding my time, but at least that gives me something to focus on. I am probably completely delusional to cling on to an imaginary glimmer of hope, but it's all I have at the moment.

X-X-X-X-X

The sound of rushing water coming from the old clunky bath taps is almost deafening as it cascades into the cast iron bath. Soap bubbles form on the surface and swirl around as the water level rises. The strong clean scent of lavender wafts around, filling the upper floor of the house.

Realising I don't have a fresh bath towel, I make my way downstairs to collect one from the laundry room. Immediately upon entering the room a strong smell of smoke assaults my nostrils. I notice James' suit jacket lying on top of the washing machine. It was the one he was wearing earlier. I'm sure it's dry clean only, but the least I could do is air it in the garden. As I lift it up a slip of paper falls from one of the pockets.

I don't immediately recognise the document , but I'm eager to see if it is something that managed to survive this afternoon's events. I drop the jacket absently, all concerns to rid it of the acrid smell forgotten as I greedily snatch up the piece of paper. I stand to my full height as I look at the well-worn folded sheet of paper.

It's thick, and as I begin to unfold it, I realise there is more than one sheet of paper. It looks quite old as the once white paper is now a grubby shade of grey. The folds are well worn as though it has been opened and re-folded again and again. Smudged inky fingerprints are dotted over the paper.

Flattening the sheets out I realise that it is a bank statement, but not from an account of mine or even one that is familiar to me. Looking at the header on the first page, I see it is a joint bank account in both mine and James' names. I knew we had a shared account for our utilities, but I didn't think it was with this bank. The statement is a month old, which doesn't really explain why it looks so dog-eared. I assume James doesn't have a central place to store it and was carrying it in his pocket.

My eyes scan the document, trying to understand what is transpiring within the account. I hold my breath as I come to rest on the summary of the statement, in particular the end balance of the account: £246,995. I feel the blood pounding in my ears; the light-headed feeling of earlier comes rushing back to me. Suddenly the room feels too small, as if there isn't enough air. My breath comes in ragged gasps while my head swims in confusion. £246,995! Where has all this money come from? This could pay off our mortgage easily. Why is it just in a bank account?

The rushing sound of water coming from the floor above shatters my mental barrage of questions. Clutching the papers to my chest, I stagger awkwardly up the stairs and to the bathroom to turn off the taps. I sit on the edge of the bath and grip the papers tightly, staring at the figures trying to make sense of them; it's like the numbers are floating around the page. I close my eyes and shake my head, when I open them the numbers have obediently returned to their allotted spaces. I begin looking through the statement to get an understanding of the transactions.

The statement covers the dates of James' recent work trip and a number of transactions jump out at me. A booking at the Dorchester Hotel; it would seem that a 2 night stay in the Belgravia Suite is a mere snip at £3,100. Surely James' employer would pay for his stay in a hotel? Also he was away for a lot longer than 2 nights. Where did he stay the rest of the time?

It becomes clear as to why he didn't want me to have a contact number.

There is also a hefty direct debit for a mobile phone provider, which means the phone he has isn't a work mobile.

I begin to feel sick as I follow the trail of breadcrumbs that this statement provides. It seems to be pointing strongly in the direction of my husband leading a double-life.

I cover my mouth in shock as I trawl through the other transactions: huge sums of money spent at Agent Provocateur; endless meals out with bills that are far too high for there to be only one dining party; numerous Interflora transactions; and other department stores where I cannot guess what could possibly have been purchased. He's seeing another woman!

I'm filled with despair and rage. I want to destroy the pieces of paper in front of me so that I can release some of my aggression, but I cannot destroy the evidence. Where did the rotten snake get this money from? How can he stand in front of me and plead poverty? The rat!

The phone rings and I jump, almost dropping the papers in the bath water. I clasp them to my chest and run to the bedroom to answer the phone. I lift the receiver and answer, trying not to sound out of breath.

"Hello."

"Isabella, it's James. Did I leave my suit jacket at home?" He sounds confident and completely unruffled.

"Umm...no, I don't think so. Perhaps it's in the car?" I try to mask my voice with innocence and place my spare hand on my hammering chest.

"Yes, you're probably right. If you do find it just put it to one side and I'll sort it out when I get home." He sounds distracted.

"Ok. So I'll see you tonight?" I grip the phone tightly, scowling at the documents in my hand.

"Of course. I'll be back late again. The little incident at home this afternoon has put me behind somewhat." I can hear the venom in his voice. He hangs up, not even so much as a goodbye. I replace the receiver, and sit on the edge of the bed.

My eyes fall on the top of the statement and I see the phone number of the bank. My hand hovers over the telephone and I take a deep breath before grabbing the receiver and dialling the number. I listen to the recorded message asking me to select an option, I choose 'current accounts'.

I'm then required to enter the account number. I enter the digits from the paper in front of me and listen as the associated tones beep back at me. I then enter the sort code and my date of birth. All seems to be going swimmingly so far.

I'm played some interesting music whilst I wait in a queue for an advisor. Finally the line clicks and I hear a real person speak on the other end.

"Hello? Yes I'd like some information about a joint account I hold with you," I ask politely, hoping that if I appear reasonable the advisor may be more forthcoming.

"Certainly Mrs Smith, I have the account details in front of me now. Please can you confirm the security passphrase on the account?" The colour drains from my face as I realise that I don't have any idea what the passphrase could be. I make a guess at James' mother's maiden name.

"I think it is Robertson. However my husband manages the account really." I explain unnecessarily.

"I'm afraid that isn't the correct phrase Mrs Smith. Would you like to try again?" Her voice takes on a patronising edge. I clutch at straws and decide to guess again.

"Yes please, could you try Swan?" I ask helplessly.

"I'm afraid not Mrs Smith. Passphrases must be a minimum of 6 characters. Perhaps you could call your husband and ask him for the passphrase?" I can almost imagine her shaking her head disparagingly.

"That's not possible. Aren't there any other questions I can answer? Address? Date of Birth? Please, anything. What if my husband has forgotten the passphrase? What then?" I ask desperately.

"I'm afraid that is our only security question. If your husband has forgotten the passphrase we can send a new code out in the post, which would require us to temporarily suspend his online banking until he has a chance to re-register online. Shall I arrange the necessary paperwork to get the account reset Mrs Smith?" She sounds bored.

"No, no, please don't do that!" I panic and cannot answer quickly enough.

"Please all I want to know is when the account was opened and to query a deposit. Can't you tell me that at least? I understand the security is there for a reason, but can't you just tell me these two things?" I beg and plead with the zombie on the other end of the phone. If I can just find out where the money came from and the full amount, surely that would be something.

"Mrs. Smith, please can I remind you that all our calls are recorded and I am not willing to breach our security procedure." I balk at the stock phrases she keeps spouting in my direction.

"Look, all I want to know is when the account was opened. Can't you do anything?" I feel myself getting exasperated.

"Mrs Smith, I am going to have to ask you to phone back when you have the passphrase. Without it I am unable to help you further." I sigh defeated.

"Fine. Thank you for your time." I acquiesce and resign myself to the fact that I'm not going to gain any information.

"Not a problem Mrs Smith. Is there anything else I can help you with today?" I shake my head at the irony.

"No, that'll be all." I hang up the phone, not bothering to wait for a response. I place my head in my hands as the tears of confusion and frustration fall.

A/n: Poor Bella! Not long left of this journey now! Check out this interview I did with the wonderful LaMs_Rob_Le http : / / tinyurl . com / 233vf5g and please leave me a review if you see fit.

Merry Christmas to you all!

Flubbles x