A/n: Hello All, Sorry for the delay with this chapter, it has been teased, tickled, tweaked and...Well you get the idea! However I think this is possibly the longest chapter I have ever written (no I'm not including the A/n)! A huge thank you, to xoEMC and Jaustenlover for their help and guidance with this chapter. It was a bit of a beast to write and I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks also to Raina for the medical help and to the ladies on twitter for their assistance with some of the other things included in this chapter.
As ever I hope you like it.
Flubbles x
Chapter 25
I give my statement to the police. As deeply distressing as it is, I try to detail as much as possible. Leaving nothing out, leaving no stone unturned, I am almost clinical with my descriptions, imagining it happening to someone else makes it easier to discuss.
I ensure every aspect of the depraved things James said and attempted to do to me are noted down with accuracy. I attempt to give them the back story, but they really only seem to care about the events of this evening. It is quite frankly, draining.
It seems as if they are trying to implicate Edward further. I refuse to let them. I am vague with my descriptions of the violent exchanges that take place between him and James. I am open and honest about my attack on James. I struggle to contain my contempt for him while trying to hide my elation about my newfound freedom from such an abhorrent individual.
They photograph my bruises, marks and scars. Standing in a bleak hospital side room, I have nothing but a pair of paper knickers and a hospital gown covering my dignity. My trembling hands press the hard scratchy fibre to my breasts so that it cannot expose me further. The flash of the camera is harsh in the artificially lit room. The two female police constables stare at me pityingly. I want to get out of there so badly, away from their eyes and judgement. The whole process feels like it's taking hours, but it is more like minutes.
The nurses kindly find me some old clothing to wear. The damp pile of things I was wearing - that belong to Edward - are in a carrier bag resting at my feet. He's in with the police now giving his statement.
Thinking of Edward makes me cast my mind back to the young female doctor that examined him.
I was in the adjacent cubicle, the curtain walls didn't act as much of a buffer for their conversation. She was insistent he stayed in for at least 24 hours so she could keep him under observation. I could hear in her voice that she was attempting to flirt with him. How unprofessional! Edward was oblivious to her advances. He insisted he would be fine, informing her that he had me to take care of and that there was no way he would leave me alone.
Just the memory of that exchange makes my lips curl up in a small smile. A wave of warmth cloaks around me and I close my eyes, yawning tiredly.
Stretching, I gaze around the bustling Accident and Emergency ward; it's heaving with activity. Organised bedlam. Nurses and doctors stride confidently through the swathes of moaning patients all of whom believe their needs are paramount. I feel as though I'm invisible, sitting here. Observing them but not participating on any level.
I curl up my legs underneath myself and try to get comfortable on the hard plastic chair. Looking straight ahead, my eyes focus on a poor quality Monet poster that has seen better days. It's encased in a plastic safety frame. Probably for the best, based on some of the clientele surrounding me.
This causes my thoughts to wander to the recently vacated seat a few rows down. The drunken man that sat there moments before had an extensive vocabulary to say the least. He seemed to have a penchant for profanities. Some of the imaginative phrases he invented would be enough to make even the most hardened sailor blush.
I have been sitting in this ward for so long, every mundane detail of the surroundings are etched on my brain. A young female cleaner mops an already sparkling floor for what seems like the fiftieth time. It's as if the ever-present threat of bacteria is breathing on the back of her neck. Just waiting for her to take a break or take her eye off the ball, waiting to seize its opportunity to pounce and wreak havoc.
Watching her work tirelessly, makes me wonder if that's what I look like when I carry out all of the mundane duties that James asks of me.
Does she feel a sense of pride? Or does she simply complete these tasks as if on auto-pilot. Waiting for the clock to move round, time seeming to take longer than usual to pass. Until, finally, it is time for her to escape and some other poor individual has to carry out the same repetitive mundane duties for the next ten-hour minimum wage stint.
I turn my head marginally and watch her as covertly as possible. She's wearing the standard hospital uniform of dark green trousers and a green and white striped polyester shirt that is tucked under a dark green tabard. An ID card swings from her breast pocket, I can't make out her name from here. Her feet are encased in a pair of those white safety shoes that you only ever see in hospitals.
My eyes travel up to her young, smooth, unblemished face, her hair scraped back in a severe ponytail. It's only then I notice she is wearing earphones. I see the wire clearly now, trailing down her upper body and into her trouser pocket. She's listening to something.
I watch as she pauses, her mop stilling. Her eyebrows knit in concentration as she mutters something under her breath. Then she pauses before speaking again. What is she doing? She's not listening to music.
She comes closer to the row of bright blue hard plastic chairs that I am sitting on. They remind me of infrequent trips to the theatre as a child. All of the chairs are conjoined and bolted to the floor. To stop people launching them like grenades into the frenzied crowd I assume. I shake the thought from my head and return my attention to the young girl.
"The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog."
She says the phrase quietly in a thick foreign accent. I cannot make out exactly where her accent is from but it sounds Czech or Russian. I listen again as she repeats the phrase this time with more confidence. She pauses, listening, before muttering again.
"The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain."
She struggles immensely with this sentence, pronouncing it in a sort of broken Queen's English. It finally dawns on me, she is learning our native language. Albeit, with a peculiar set of phrases that seem to revolve around a recorded voice demonstrating Received Pronunciation.
I smile to myself. Well, well, all is not as it appears on the surface. I feel a blush spread up my neck and warm my cheeks. I mentally scold myself for so harshly judging this woman initially. Appearances are indeed deceptive. She is clearly trying to change her fortunes. I feel myself being comforted by this thought. Perhaps we aren't all defined by the situations we are forced to live through. Anyone can better themselves and the things that happen to us along the way help to shape us.
I look down at my forearm, a fractured radius apparently, confirmation by x-ray. I haven't even heard of the bone that runs from the inside of my elbow up to the thumb-side of my wrist. I feel the need to store this useless piece of information, never knowing when it may come in handy. I wiggle my swollen fingers and thumb, pins and needles setting in. They're the only part of my right-arm I can actually move from the elbow down.
I think the dark blue cast is the most discrete and understated of the available options. I scratch at its hard shell with the nails of my other hand. It feels a bit like a medal or a prize, some sort of recognition of my battle with James.
I'm not really sure how I feel at the moment. Obviously there are the expected emotions; exhaustion, relief and a growing fear of the imminent future and what it holds for me.
So many things unknown - what an exciting and altogether daunting prospect!
What will happen to James? What will happen to the house? Where will I live? What will I do for money? Who do I have now?
Panic bubbles up inside me. I really am all alone now, no family, no husband...just one friend, Edward. Even he left, though... A distant voice utters in my head. He doesn't know what he wants, what makes you think he would want you! There it goes again. God what have I done? Is this all for the best? What about better the devil you know?
I feel my breathing change, becoming ragged. My chest constricts. A jumble of anxious thoughts whirl through my mind. I feel like covering my ears to block out the thoughts and screaming "la, la, la I'm not listening" until my mind goes quiet.
I breathe deeply and close my eyes, trying to calm myself.
I focus on the positives, albeit the limited positives. James is under police watch, handcuffed to his bed as he is to be kept in overnight for observation. His diagnosis is that of a concussion and a couple of broken ribs. I don't want to know the details, but as his next of kin the doctors feel the need to keep me informed.
I hear a pair of feet shuffle and come to a stop near me. I breathe a sigh of relief when
I open my eyes and see it's Edward. My whole body relaxes whenever he is near.
"All done with the police?" I enquire, trying to sound bright and breezy, but failing miserably.
"Yes, they say we're both free to go, but that we're not to leave the country." He smiles tightly at me.
"Seriously though, they're going to be in touch to discuss our statements. As well as to gather any other information they might need. I'm sure they'll want to speak to you again after they have got some sense out of James."
He sits down on one of the hard chairs next to me and drapes an arm around my shoulders. Sighing I rest my head on his shoulder. He rests his cheek on the top of my head.
"I guess it's to be expected. I just don't relish discussing the minutiae of my dysfunctional relationship with James. I know it's for the best in the long-run."
"Bella, I can't imagine how hard it must be discussing these things with the police." I feel him shake his head sadly. He reaches for my hand and links his fingers with mine, resting them in my lap.
"It's just so difficult to talk about. The detail they want, it's like reliving it all over again." I swallow thickly and stare down at our linked hands, my hair falling forward to cover my face.
"I finally feel like I'm no longer swimming underwater. Like I've reached the surface now and I can feel the sun on my face and I can see a slither of land in the distance." I move my face to look at him, to see if he understands.
"So going over it all just feels like taking a step backwards. Almost like drowning all over again. You know?" I shrug, unsure of myself.
"Yeah, I know exactly how that feels." He places a soft, warm kiss on my forehead.
"But talking to the right people, qualified people, can really be of some help." He's referring to therapists.
I wrinkle my nose in distaste. I don't like the thought of discussing my dysfunctional upbringing coupled with my failure of a marriage with a faceless individual. Someone who is paid to over-analyse my every word, while referencing Freud and Janov and commenting on how the experiences of my youth have shaped my sorry adult life. And moreover how I found myself turning to a man that reminded me of my father.
"I will, I promise. I just need some time." I smile thinly at him, hoping he'll leave it there. He nods and runs a hand through his hair.
"Of course. Time is something we have plenty of now." He smiles and rises from the chair. I swell with happiness at his use of 'we'.
"How about we head home?" He offers me his arm. I nod enthusiastically and link my good arm through his. With my other arm I reach out to grab the plastic bag full of sodden clothing. Looking down at my wrist, I realise that I only have one fully functioning arm.
"Umm Edward would you mind carrying this?" I blush and motion in the direction of the bag with my cast.
"Sure. Is that everything?" He reaches round me and sweeps the bag up gracefully carrying it under one arm.
I nod and tuck myself into his side, resting my head on his shoulder as we make our way towards the exit. As we near the doorway a rather rotund, rude woman wearing an unflattering faux fur coat pushes past Edward roughly. I recognise her instantly and feel myself freeze. James' mother!
Thankfully we don't register on her radar and she heads straight in the direction of the reception desk. Edward pauses and opens his mouth to address the woman, but I squeeze his arm tightly, my fingers pressing painfully into his arm.
He looks down at me, confusion and shock at my reaction written all over his face. I shake my head vigorously, silently begging him to keep quiet. He looks at the woman who is stood with her back to us and then back at me.
She raps abruptly on the glass partition, her costume jewellery jangling loudly. I can smell her cheap acrid perfume from where we are standing. The scent transports me back in time to horrific family meals and entertaining her at our house. I feel myself shake with fear at her proximity and a cold sticky sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. She is a formidable woman, a vile, difficult and highly opinionated she-devil. James is a chip off the old block. He must make her so proud, with his cruel, manipulative ways. She's trained him well.
I haven't seen or spoken to her for months. Her visits became less frequent after the fateful day she called round when James was at work. We had only been married a matter of months...
"Isabella, you're really letting this place go to the dogs you know. Hardly doing my son proud." She speaks like a petulant child, her voice nasal and demanding. She absently runs a finger along the table, checking for dust.
I sigh and roll my eyes as I pour her more tea.
She reaches out a pudgy well-manicured hand and helps herself to another slice of freshly baked tea loaf. She slathers butter over the cake and attempts to nibble at it delicately.
Her fuchsia painted lips wrap around the cake, a hint of a moustache can be seen on her upper lip. Her hair is set like a helmet around her head. I don't think even a cyclone would be powerful enough to knock a hair out of place.
"Ethel, please understand that you have called round unannounced and caught me a bit on the hop." I bite my tongue to stop me from saying anything further and take a sip of my tea.
"All I'm saying Isabella is that James' sister Lauren has three young children to take care of and I know that her husband Mike isn't left wanting for anything." She drops three sugar cubes into her tea and stirs it briskly, the teaspoon clinking as it connects repeatedly with the china. She then lifts it to her lips slurping loudly. Her little finger extended in a pretentious fashion.
"Such a shame you can't give my James a child. Not to mention a grandchild for me to dote on. If I'd known you were such a damaged woman I don't think I'd have been so keen for James to marry you.
"Not to mention the fact that you are a real drain on him financially since the death of your penniless parents." She sniffs haughtily and tutting, reaches for yet more cake.
How dare she! She can say whatever she wants about my character, but I don't ever want to hear someone take my Mother's name in vain. My blood boils over at the injustice of her words.
I can't stop myself. I stand swiftly, pushing my chair back loudly. At the same time I reach for the plate containing the much lusted after cake and slide it away from her.
"Take your things and get out of my house." I speak to her through gritted teeth. She blinks at me in shock.
"And if I haven't made myself clear already, you're not welcome here again without an invitation." I walk from the table and stand looking out of the kitchen window with my back to her. I feel alive, buzzing with electricity, every nerve feels like it's set on edge.
She huffs and puffs loudly with indignation and I hear her rise from the table.
"I'll be mentioning this exchange to James. He won't think twice about reminding you of your place." She scuttles out of the house slamming the front door behind her.
That was the first time I truly learnt how cruel James could be. He made me go without food and forced me to sleep on the kitchen floor. I also had to invite her round for tea and apologise to her in front of James and his father, it was humiliating. I should've left then. Oh why did I put up with it for so long?
I cower into Edward's side and bury my face in his shoulder. How long will James and all things associated with him have this sort of effect on me?
"Bella, are you ok? Do you know her?" Edward whispers in my ear, his mouth tickling my hair.
I nod, unable to raise my head.
"That's James' mother." My voice is muffled by the cotton of his t-shirt.
"Makes sense." He scoffs.
"Do you need to talk with her?"
I snap my head back sharply to look up at him, almost jarring my neck. With wide eyes I shake my head emphatically.
"Certainly not! Please, let's get out of here before she sees me." My voice is desperate.
He steers me out the door and herds me into a waiting taxi. I close my eyes, lean my head back against the seat and sigh with relief as Edward gives the driver directions; we make our escape, speeding off towards the sanctity of Edward's house.
X-X-X-X-X
I wait on the porch as Edward pays for the taxi. The aftermath of the night's events have unfolded over such a long period that it is now almost dawn. The inky blue sky is littered with shards of orange light as the sun begins to rise behind Edward's house and over the orchard. The birds are beginning to wake and the first few notes of the morning chorus can be heard in the distance.
In the ever increasing light, I peer to the left of the porch and look at the broken front window. Along with my broken wrist it is further evidence of the night's events. Confirmation that it wasn't all just a horrific dream. I really am free of him now.
It is no longer raining, but I dread to think of the damage the smashed hole combined with the elements have done to the interior of Edward's home. Hopefully nothing too sentimental has been damaged and it can all be replaced. His insurance should cover something like this. I roll my eyes at my pragmatic thoughts.
My eyes are involuntarily drawn to look across to my and James' house. I can see that a number of lights remain on. The door is shut, but I don't know if it is locked; I should really go and check. I'm just so tired I don't think I could face going over there. Certainly not alone - Edward will have to come too.
Who knows what possible things James got up to in the gap of hours before he came over to Edward's house. I shiver and turn to see what Edward is doing.
He's talking good naturedly to the taxi driver as he pays up and hands over what looks to be a substantial tip. I know Edward is wealthy, but sometimes I forget how much money a multi-award winning, internationally renowned author must be capable of earning. I couldn't put a figure on it, but I'm guessing it's substantially more than a Personal Assistant to a plastics saleswoman.
My face clouds over as I am reminded of the money in the joint account. Surely some of it must belong to me? Otherwise why have it in a joint account?
"You ok?" The sound of Edward's voice makes me jump. I was so lost in my thoughts I didn't even realise he had come to stand next to me.
"Yeah," I answer as my eyes remain fixed on my matrimonial residence.
"Suppose I'm going to have to go over there at some point."
"You know you can stay with me as long as you want. Just because James isn't here now, doesn't mean you have to stay there on your own. I mean of course if you want to go there you can. You don't have to stay here either." Edward rambles.
When I turn to look at him, he looks at me bashfully from under his eyelids. Running a hand through his hair he quickly recovers.
"I mean you're free to come and go as you please." He shrugs.
I mouth the word 'thanks' and reach out for his hand, giving it a squeeze. He's so kind, it's such a refreshing change, I feel myself trusting him more and more.
"Anytime, now let's get you inside."
He unlocks the door and holds it open for me, I duck under his arm and brush past him. My nostrils are filled with the strong delicious smell of him. Even after a night like we've had he still manages to smell so appetising. It's comforting, a sort of constant after an evening of uncertainty.
I head straight to the front room to see how much damage James has done. I pause in the doorway surveying the scene. The offending rock is nowhere to be seen, but splinters of glass and white powder are covering the floor and the top of the Steinway. The murky white powder on the piano reveals a series of fingerprints that look to be both old and new. Thankfully the fallboard and the lid were down, so the piano escaped any severe damage.
A pool of water rests in the middle of the wingback chair and it is beginning to stain the green leather, turning it white around the edges as it dries out.
I can feel Edward standing closely behind me, body heat radiating off of him.
"Where's the rock?" I enquire without turning round.
"The police came by while we were at the hospital waiting for your x-ray. They took photos of everything and dusted for prints."
I hear the thud of him placing the things on the floor, his hands come to rest on my shoulders before rubbing up and down my arms comfortingly.
"Edward, I'm so sorry about your things. The damage you've been left with because of me..." I stop unable to continue, feeling tears forming. I sniff quietly.
He wraps his arms around me. I lean my back against his chest and he tucks my head under his chin.
"They're just things, Bella. Things you can replace, people you can't. I'm just pleased you're safe and here with me now." He squeezes me gently.
"Thank you Edward, thank you so much for saving me." I tremble in his arms and cry softly.
"I didn't save you Bella. I just helped you believe that you could save yourself."
X-X-X-X-X
I wrap my fingers around the steaming mug of tea and lift it to my lips. Sipping the hot liquid instantly calms me.
"Are you sure I can't make you something to eat?" He frowns at me, concern written all over his face as he leans against the worktop, arms crossed, and legs crossed at the ankles.
"Honestly Edward, I think I'm too tired to eat. A cup of tea and some rest is all I really want at the moment." I nod in an effort to reassure him.
I know I should really get a shower. I reach my hand up to my hair. It feels grimy from the rain of earlier. It's just I can't face it right now, not with the cast as well.
I drain my cup of tea, drinking it while the liquid is still entirely too hot, burning my tongue slightly in the process. I rise tiredly from the table making my way to the sink to rinse my cup. Force of habit I guess.
Edward lurches forward, taking the item from my hand.
"Let me do that, please. Let me take care of you." He pleads with me.
I nod and take a step back. I find being cared for like this is quite unnerving. Almost like if I get comfortable with his kindly treatment, someone will come in and pull the rug out from under me. He stands at the sink with his back to me and begins speaking.
"When I think of how I walked out on you, Bella, I feel so sick with guilt. I hate myself for leaving you the way I did." His shoulders tense. I open my mouth to speak, but he carries on.
"Despite all of that though, I want you to know that I'm not doing any of this out of a sense of guilt. I genuinely want to be there for you Bella. I want to look after you, to protect you." He clears his throat awkwardly, as if embarrassed by his admission.
I don't know what to say; there aren't any words. No one has said they want to take care of me except my mother. I walk to him and place a soft kiss between his shoulder-blades. I watch as his shoulders fall and the tension in his back dissolves. I wrap my arms around his waist and press the side of my face into his back.
"Edward, can we please go to sleep now? I'm so very tired and I just want you to hold me." I step back from him and look at the ground, petrified that he might reject me.
"Of course, if that's what you want, then that's what we'll do." He places a hand under my chin and lifts my head so that I am forced to look him in the eye. He smiles warmly and taking my hand in his, he leads me up the stairs.
As we enter his bedroom, I see the crumpled bed sheets of earlier. Early morning sunlight peeks through the gaps in the curtains, bathing the room in a soft hazy light.
I pick at my hospital rental clothes before looking at Edward.
"I don't suppose you have something I could sleep in? I'm afraid the last lot got a bit ruined." I blush.
He nods and crosses the room to his wardrobe. He takes something off a hanger and holds it up to me. It's a cotton dress-shirt.
"Will this do? I don't really have anything else that will fit you."
I nod; the thought of the cool cotton on my bare skin sounds blissful. I reach out a hand and he passes the shirt to me.
"I'll just be right back." I motion to the en-suite and spin on my heel.
Stepping into the bathroom I close the door firmly behind me and peel off the horrid clothes I have been forced to wear under the circumstances. I deposit them in the wicker laundry basket. Slipping the shirt over my head, it falls softly to the tops of my thighs, gliding past my knickers, covering my bottom. I undo the cuffs and roll the sleeves back, up to my elbows. I grab my hair and plait it roughly. I have nothing to secure the end, but it's out of my face; a few tendrils hang loose.
Turning on the tap, I wait for the water to warm up before cupping my good hand and awkwardly splashing some water on my face. It feels wonderful and reaching for one of the fluffy towels I pat my face dry. I return the towel, ensuring the room looks exactly the same as it did upon entering.
Some things just feel so deeply ingrained, as though Edward is just a wolf in sheep's clothing. I trust him, but I just worry that he might be waiting for me to fail. I have been so conditioned by James and my Father that I have no idea whether all men are like that. My heart yearns to believe that Edward is completely different from James.
I open the door and my eyes wander to the bed, Edward is already there, sitting up on some pillows. His chest is bare and his hair is scruffy like he's been running his fingers through it nervously. He's holding a book and looks to be skimming the text casually. I cross the room self-consciously, my head down, eyes watching my feet as I make my way to the vacant side of the bed.
Edward looks up at me and raises his eyebrows before smiling at me, his eyes twinkling. Placing the book on the small table next to his bed, he turns off the small table lamp. The room is bathed in a dusky light. He peels back the covers for me and pats the empty space next to him, smiling at me comfortingly.
I climb into the bed timidly and sigh as my head rests against the cool pillow. Every muscle in my body relaxes. The sheets and pillows smell of Edward, it's divine. He slides down in the bed and rolls onto his side.
I mimic his movements so we lie facing each other. I blink lazily staring into his bottle-green eyes. God he's beautiful. He reaches a hand up to my face and grazes his knuckles along my cheekbone before fingering my plait. He grabs the end of my hair and runs it along my neck, tickling me. I giggle childishly and a smile lights up his face.
He lets my hair go and brushes it off my shoulder. He moves his hand, sliding it down my arm to rest on my hips. I sigh happily at the contact and inch closer to him. He doesn't move away. I crave the comfort of him holding me. It's the only time I ever truly feel safe, the physical connection makes me feel a tiny bit more resilient.
"You look much better in that shirt than I ever could." He smiles appreciatively.
His warm breath fans out over my face. I blush and smile my thanks. Lifting my left-hand I run my fingers through his hair, grazing the scalp lightly with my short nails and twiddling the ends of the strands. He closes his eyes and smiles languidly; he looks so content. I make him feel like that.
I lean in closer, combing my fingers through his hair in what I hope is a calming motion. I have such a strong urge to kiss him. After the traumatic events of today, I just want to feel something good. Something real. I move my face ever closer to him, his eyelids flutter but remain closed. His lips are parted slightly as he exhales through his mouth.
Tentatively I softly press my lips to his and kiss him. He doesn't pull away and this boosts my confidence. I daringly lick his lips with the tip of my tongue. He opens his mouth and I deepen the kiss. My fingers take on a mind of their own and they grab a fistful of his hair, my restricted hand twitches sullenly, feeling left out.
Edward kisses me back as he slides a hand between my waist and the bed, his other arm wrapping round me. I shift my body closer so that I am pressed up again him. My mind switches off and I pour all of my pain, desire and need to seek comfort into the kiss. I just want to be repaired, looked after and nurtured. Please do that, for me Edward!
His hands come to my hips and slide up under the fabric of my shirt. Exploring my skin, his thumbs rub just below my ribcage, resting on my waist. He doesn't go any further, his hands content as he squeezes gently applying pressure to my lower back as we are pressed closely together.
I pull away from his lips and place soft open-mouthed kisses on his jaw, down his neck and over his clavicles, nuzzling him between caresses.
"Bella...please..." He moans and I continue to kiss him. My hands press lightly on his chest, trying not to irritate him or damage the mood with my cast.
"Bella, please...we can't..." Ignoring him, I slide my hands down his chest, my fingers running along the waistband of his pyjamas. Surely he doesn't really want me to stop. It feels so good and it's the least he deserves for everything he has done for me. I need this, I need to wipe away all of the hurt.
"Bella, please, stop. It's wrong. I can't let you do this."
His hand come to my shoulders and he gently but forcefully pushes me away. He sits up in the bed and puts some distance between us, rubs his hand over his face, exhaling loudly. I close my eyes holding back tears, my breathing is ragged. He doesn't want me?
"Please believe me, Bella, it's not that I didn't enjoy that. But not like this. It's wrong, you've been through a horrifying ordeal. I would never want something as wonderful as this exchange between us, to be born from something as awful as the things that happened to you today."
He grasps my chin and turns my face gently, my eyes flutter open and they're swimming with tears. I nod miserably.
"I'm doing this for both of us. I understand that you've been through something so traumatic and that you are craving some comfort, but I couldn't forgive myself If I took advantage of you in that way." He smiles softly.
"Please Bella, you understand don't you? Not now, not like this."
I bite my lip and nod. I don't think I can speak at the moment; I feel like such a fool. Why do I keep throwing myself at him?
He runs his hands gently down the side of my face and cups my cheeks in his hands. The tears begin to fall and using his thumbs he wipes them away.
"I just feel so empty Edward. So lonely and broken..." I choke and sniff unattractively.
"I-I just want to be appreciated. Not overlooked and ignored."
He pulls me into a hug and wraps his arms around me as I bury my head in his chest.
"Oh Bella, you are appreciated and for so many reasons. But you must admit we both have so many things to address first." He strokes my back soothingly as I nod.
"We'll get through it, though, and if after learning about all of my skeletons, you're still interested..." he trails off, playing with the collar of the shirt I'm wearing.
"Of course I'll still be interested." I whisper into his chest feeling myself smile at his attempt at humour.
"Then we'll have this discussion again when we're further down the road." He continues to stroke his hand slowly up and down my back. It's so soothing; I fall into a deep much-needed slumber.
A/n: I know, I know...Edward and his damn honourable intentions, but you and Bella with both thank me for it in the long run! Now some news, I am going away for 5 days on holiday. So the next update is more than likely going to be at least 3 weeks away as I won't be able to get to a computer. Just wanted to give you all a heads-up.
Please leave a review letting me know what you think, I read them all and I love hearing what you think about this and also how you found out about the story. Cream teas all round for reviewers this time and maybe some clotted cream fudge - I am experiencing a sweet tooth for a change!
Thanks, Flubbles x