Author's Note: Thanks to the ladies :). More at the bottom.

Nice reviews are better than chocolate, unless maybe you're licking that chocolate off someone.

Twenty Four: Hope for the Hopeless

I tore the tags off my new wool coat; I'd never been excited to wear an article of clothing before in my life. But it was pretty. I smiled to myself at my girlishness as I slipped my arms into the sleeves. It was the color I'd liked so much when I noticed it in the store, a deep, vibrant blue with black buttons. I checked myself once in the mirror and then headed out the door.

It was my one year anniversary gift to myself. That's how long I'd lived here, on my own for the first time.

On the sidewalk, the leaves crunched under my feet and compulsively I picked one off a low hanging tree branch. A bright yellowish orange. I thought of how my mother loved collecting fall leaves; she'd press them between sheets of cardboard, but never knew what to do with them after that.

I walked to my favorite coffee shop, quiet after the early morning rush. Just inside the door, leaves were scattered over the wood floor, pushed in from the light breeze. I unbuttoned my coat, but left it on as I got in line. My phone buzzed and I pulled it out.

Happy anniversary, I love you.

Alice.

I smiled and typed out a message.

I love you the most.

When I looked up, I noticed the man at the counter ordering. It was an automatic thing and I felt the familiar tugging at my heart as I waited for him to turn around. It was because of his hair. It was that same coppery mess as Edward's. It wasn't him, of course, but it made me remember anyway.

I got two coffees and a newspaper before making my way next door, to the bookshop where I worked.

"Hey baby girl, what are you doing in here on your day off?"

I smiled at my boss; he was about eighty years old and called all the women he knew by that same flirtatious nickname. "Just in the neighborhood, thought you could use the caffeine." I made to hand it over the counter to him, but then pulled it back. "Unless you don't want it," I grinned.

"Hand it over or I'll make you work today."

I did and he sipped from it as if it were manna from heaven. When he was finished, he looked me over. "You look awfully nice today," his eyebrows furrowed deeply and I wondered if he was surprised. "When am I going to see you with a boyfriend?"

My laugh was uncomfortable. "I don't date."

"You know, I have a son who -,"

"Billy! What is he? Sixty?"

"No, smartass, he's thirty two," he leaned over the counter conspiratorially. "Don't say anything, but he was an accident."

I snorted and covered my mouth quickly.

I thought about it sometimes, dating. But I just couldn't. Trying to recapture something I'd had once with a new person, it just wasn't right. Not yet.

And, I thought about it, Edward was thirty two now also. I shook my head.

Billy huffed, "all right, go on girl. I don't want to see you until Monday."

I took my coffee and the paper and went to the park to spend the rest of the morning.

After sweeping a few fallen leaves out of the way, I sat at a little bench just off a jogging trail and opened my paper. I liked to read it from the back section to the front, so I started with Entertainment; there was a theatre production coming to town. My eyes widened when I saw the picture.

Tanya.

I skimmed over the caption. Tanya Denali (Margeurite St. Just) and Eleazar Riverra (Chauvelin) in a scene from The Scarlet Pimpernel.

She was in an ornate dress, her expression earnest and beautiful. Good for you.

I thought about trying to see her, but knew I wouldn't. It was too much; we weren't living the same lives anymore.

I finished the paper and tucked it into my bag, tossed the empty coffee cup into the trash. I didn't know what to do with my free time on the weekends. During the week, I took classes at the local city college and worked in Billy's store. But in between, sometimes it was hard. Edward was always just a whisper of thought away, a glimpse of pale skin, a shock of unruly hair at the crosswalk, a familiar voice at the grocery store. It still felt unfinished and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to close it up. So I let the seam hang open, tried to work around it.

I stopped at another bookshop, chuckling to myself as I walked in. I mean, I worked in one already, why would I want to spend me free time in one too? But this place was nice, more coffee and food than books. I ordered a big cinnamon roll and settled on one of their big, overstuffed chairs in the back. I pulled a book from my purse and tucked my legs underneath me; I took a bite of the warm pastry, sure that if I ate slowly, they wouldn't mind me sitting here for a while. Around me, other people were doing the same thing; one man had an entire place setting at one of the little tables, his own fork and everything. I leaned back into the cushions, tuning out the dim sounds of the store.

After a while, the cinnamon roll was gone and I was on the last chapters of the book. The man with the table setting had left and every so often I'd hear the chime above the door as someone walked in or out. Have you ever had one of those moments where something happens, something big, and in your memories later, you can recall everything that was going on around you? Well that's what this was. Something pulled at my consciousness; I looked up. At the pick up counter, which was partially obstructed by a bookshelf, a couple was arguing over where to go for lunch.

"Whatever you want, I don't care."

"Well I don't care either, pick something."

A college student sat across from me, studying and looking in need of a full night of sleep. She flipped through handwritten pages of notes, pausing now and again to read the passages. Near the front door, a child brewing a tantrum was being pulled outside by his mother. And at the counter, a familiar voice was ordering coffee.

I couldn't see because of the book shelves, but I turned toward the sound automatically, at once stretching forward and pulling back. I stuck my book in my bag, grabbed my trash, and stood up. I darted between two shelves at the same time he came walking by. It wasn't that I wanted to hide, but that I had been wrong so many times before. Wishful thinking, you know.

He took the seat I'd just left; he had coffee in one hand, a book in the other. He leaned up and rolled his shoulders before sinking back; I could almost hear the relaxed exhalation.

It was him. It was Edward.

I stepped back feeling this urge to call someone from my therapy group immediately, but instead I stayed. I watched him talking on his phone, he chuckled quietly at something; he looked happy. When he ended the call, he grinned and shook his head slightly. I thought about stepping out from my hiding place, saying hello, trying to be normal. But for some reason I thought of Tanya and how even seeing her was too much. I looked at him again; he looked good, better than good actually. I decided I couldn't do that to him; he deserved the peace that our being apart gave him.

I'd found it. I hadn't thought the phrase in so long, but it was no less true now than it had been. But maybe this was good. Maybe seeing him was what I needed; now I could sew up that last seam.

Goodbye.

I buttoned my coat and turned to leave, took a few steps. I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over, stuck my hands in my pockets, told myself it was the right thing. I could finally let that last part go. I reached the door and pushed it open, welcoming the rush of crisp autumn air. Outside, the leaves lifted in the breeze and I took a moment to grab a tie for my hair, needing the distraction for my hands. When I was finished I took a deep breath, looked to my left, toward home, and then the right, toward the market, and tried to decide which way to go.

"Bella?"

I didn't answer; the hope felt so unreal to me.

"Bella, is that you?"

I had no idea what to do, so for better or worse, I was just myself. I turned around, not holding back the smile. "Edward, I…wow," it was all I could manage and I felt silly. I shook my head at the inept greeting.

His smile was warm; it creased the corners of his eyes. Up close, he looked even better than I'd remembered. His hair was exactly the same, but his face was different, slightly more weathered, like he spent a lot of time outside. But, despite that, his skin was still that moon paleness that I knew from years ago. He opened his mouth to say something, but then the door opened beside us and we had to move out of the way of an exiting patron. "Bella," he said again.

I smiled. "Edward, it's been…how are you?"

When another customer opened the door, I motioned toward the left and we started walking.

He cleared his throat, "I'm good," he stuck his hands in the pockets of his coat. "How are you? Do you live here now?"

"I do; I've been here about a year. How are you?"

He smiled, "you asked me that already."

I looked toward the sidewalk, trying to stave off the color blossoming on my cheeks. "Are you…still living in Los Angeles?"

"No, I…I live here, actually."

"Oh?" That unreal hopeful feeling welled up inside me, but I tamped it down, a lot had happened since the hospital, and he wasn't living the same life anymore either.

"Yeah, since yesterday."

I took that in; he was here now, permanently. I would probably see him again, even if only by accident. But that would have to be all, I decided. I had put him through enough for one lifetime.

I was surprised when I arrived at my doorstep on autopilot; it seemed like too short a walk. "This is me," I motioned toward the stone steps.

He smiled again in that warm way that sent a current over my skin. And then he stepped in and leaned down, slowly pressing his lips to my cheek. "It was good to see you, Bella," he said before straightening.

I put a hand to my face, memorizing the way the kiss had felt. I swallowed, "good to see you too, Edward." I took a couple of steps back after giving him an awkward goodbye and then turned, determined to make it back to my apartment without looking foolish. I could do this, I thought, I had to. When I reached the door, I fumbled with the lock. I took a deep breath, willing myself to calm down. I had grown up enough now to know it wasn't going to be easy. I got the key in the lock and turned.

"Have dinner with me." His voice called out from the bottom of the steps.

I froze. What? I looked behind me. "I…," I had no idea what to say. Edward still had his hands in his pockets, his expression boyish and a little shy. I shook my head, "I don't know…That might not be a good idea."

He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, understanding hitting him. He nodded, took a step back.

I felt pulled in two directions and that clichéd question ran through my head. What if the best thing and the right thing weren't the same? I spoke again before I was able to think about it too much. "Wait."

He looked up at me.

My smile was tentative, but hopeful. "Yes, yes I'll have dinner with you."

Author's Note: So I have a question - The next part is either going to be the dinner, or I can post a chapter from Edward's point of view of their time apart (either option won't make a difference when it comes to how fast it'll get posted). The Edward chapter interrupts the flow a little, which is why I'd like your input. Let me know what you think!