So, many of you left me feedback that the last chapter made you cry. I'm truly sorry for the heartfail; it's never my intention to traumatize anyone! I'm always hesitant to put a "tissue warning" at the beginning of a chapter, because what *I* find sad and what *you* find sad might be completely different. Suffice it to say, the next couple of chapters DO contain angst and certain elements that may be upsetting for some. You've been forewarned!
I want to give a special thank you this week to Indie Fic Pimp for promoting my story, to the lovely bbwraven for her wonderful review, and to jamiearkin for the beautiful HiPS banner she created (link on my profile)! I also want to give a shout-out to new readers karen4honor and Rgwmnks for reviewing almost every chapter. Of course, I couldn't do any of this without my wonderful, super-speedy betas Kikiblue and netracullen. They are truly amazing ladies, and have never steered me wrong.
Now, let's see what our "star-crossed lovers" have been up to, shall we?
Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.
Hide In Plain Sight
Chapter 25: Guidance
EPOV
We landed at Heathrow under the steely gray skies of early morning. I hadn't managed to get more than a few minutes of restless dozing during the flight, and I was physically and emotionally exhausted. My head was pounding, and I couldn't determine whether I was hung over or still drunk. In any case, it was just a relief to get off that damn plane and away from Emmett's inane babbling. Away from Lauren; the overly solicitous and not-very-subtle flight attendant. Away from Alice and Jasper's judgmental glances and whispered conversations. Away from the stale, recycled air that always seemed to smell faintly of burnt coffee and too many sweating bodies sitting in close proximity to each other.
The customary fleet of cars provided by the studio for our transportation awaited our arrival. Once the luggage was retrieved and distributed, I bid a hasty farewell to my travelling companions and requested that my driver take me straight to my flat in SoHo. I fell into bed almost as soon as I walked through the door, and didn't wake until mid-afternoon.
My first conscious thought as I surfaced from my uneasy slumber was Bella. Instinctively, I reached out to draw her close to me, and encountered only crumpled, empty sheets beside me.
I'm alone. The crushing realization sank in as I groggily rubbed the sleep from my eyes and the room slowly came into focus.
My London flat really wasn't much different from my apartment in L.A. It was sparsely appointed with rental furnishings and had none of the homey, personal touches that I had come to love about my room in Houston.
Except that it never really was 'my room', was it? I thought grimly. And I'll never see it again anyway.
I reached out and retrieved my cell phone from the nightstand, where I had indifferently tossed it hours before. I had two messages. One was from my mother, telling me that she hoped I would join her and my father for dinner that evening. The second was from Alice, giving me the name and address of the hotel where she, Jasper and Emmett were staying. She informed me that a car would arrive promptly at 8:00 a.m. Monday morning to take me to the studio for my first line run-through with my new co-star. I tuned her out as she began to admonish me to 'stay out of trouble' until then, and deleted the message in disgust.
Fucking Alice. Irritating, domineering little pixie. Her overprotective act was really starting to get old.
I stared at the phone longingly, my fingers itching to dial Bella's number.
Idiot, I thought morosely. It's mid-morning in Houston. She's probably having breakfast with her family right now and listening to Jake drone on about his business trip. It was him she slept beside last night, not me. I wonder if they had sex …
I groaned aloud in frustration and threw the phone back onto the nightstand. The thought of Bella being physically intimate with anyone other than me, especially him, was too much to bear.
Who am I kidding? I thought angrily. She was never mine anyway. She made her choice, and the sooner I come to grips with that, the better.
After chain-smoking several cigarettes in rapid succession, I showered and dressed quickly. I shrugged an old black hoodie on over my striped button-down shirt and jeans, and set off on foot from my parents' townhouse in Bloomsbury. It wasn't really that far; just a 'good stretch of the legs', as they said in these parts, and I relished the chance to take in the sights, sounds and smells of London that I had sorely missed.
The chill of fall was already in the air, and the leaden skies and persistent drizzle matched my mood perfectly. I tried not to dwell on the inevitable comparison to the blue, sunny skies and warm temperature of Houston. I was happy there.
I took a small measure of comfort from the fact that no one spared me a second glance as I navigated the crowded streets. I was just another young Londoner with my hood pulled up against the rain, hastening to where I needed to go.
Thirty minutes later, I was ringing the doorbell of a large gray and white brick townhouse not far from London's West End. I pushed my hood back and ran my hand through my damp hair as I shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot on the stoop. I was suddenly as nervous and uncertain as a teenager. I hadn't seen my parents in months, and I realized that I probably looked like the furthest thing from a movie star at that moment, with my sodden clothes and hollow eyes. As soon as my mother opened the door, though, and I saw her smile, all of my insecurities were instantly forgotten.
"Edward!" she cried, pulling me into a warm embrace despite my dripping countenance. Her gentle touch and the light, floral scent of her perfume instantly transported me back to childhood.
"Come, let me look at you," she said as she pulled me across the threshold into the hallway.
As she held me at arm's length and smiled up at me, I marveled at how remarkably unchanged she was. There were a few fine lines around her sparkling blue eyes, and her caramel-colored hair was beginning to gray slightly at the temples, but she still appeared far younger than her fifty years.
"Give me your wet jacket before you catch your death," she chided gently. I obliged, and she hung it on a hook near the door.
"You're looking well, Mum," I said tentatively.
"That's kind of you to say, dear," she smiled. "You always were a flatterer, just like your father. Now, why don't you come to the kitchen and help me finish making dinner? Dad should be back from the hospital shortly."
I followed Esme into the spacious kitchen and smiled as she handed me a knife and pointed to the cutting board.
"You do remember how to chop vegetables, don't you?" she teased. "Or has eating out at all of those fancy restaurants made you soft?"
I snorted as I began attacking the carrots.
"Hardly," I replied. "You know that I still prefer take-away to any of that pretentious crap. I'm especially fond of In-N-Out Burger."
"Well, it doesn't look as though you've been eating much of anything," Esme said slowly, studying me closely. "You're entirely too thin and pale, Edward."
"You should have seen me a week ago," I muttered.
"I've been worried about you ever since that accident on the set," she sighed. "You just haven't seemed like yourself when I talked to you on the phone. I know that you're driven when it comes to your work, dear, but I'm concerned that it's starting to take a toll on your health."
Oh, you have no idea, Mum.
"And what about these mysterious trips to Texas?" she fretted. "I'm not trying to pry, Edward; truly, I'm not. I just wonder if they really have to do with business, or if there's something else going on."
Ladies and gentlemen, my mother; the psychic.
I hesitated as I weighed my reply. There was no way in hell that I was going to tell Esme about my drug problem, but it would disingenuous to lie to her completely. She obviously wouldn't be satisfied with a pat 'everything's fine' answer, and while I knew that she wouldn't press the issue, she would worry. As embarrassing as it would be to discuss my love life with my mother, it really was the lesser of two evils. I sighed and set down the knife.
"Part of it has been work," I admitted. "I'm glad to be done with Zombie Killer for a while so I can focus on this new film. As far as Houston goes … well, I did have some investment business to tend to there, but … there's a woman as well. At least, there was."
I stopped, at a loss as to how to continue. I wasn't sure how much I was willing to divulge about Bella.
"I see," Esme said quietly. "I had a feeling it was something like that." She was silent for a moment. "You love her," she said softly. It was a statement, not a question.
"I do," I replied helplessly, running my hands through my hair. "But … it's complicated, Mum."
"Love always is," Esme sighed. "And I imagine it must be even more so, in your position."
"She's married," I said dully. "To an adulterous wanker who's never appreciated her. And she … has a child."
"Oh, Edward," Esme murmured.
"But wait, there's more," I said bitterly. "Did I mention that she's ten years older than me too?"
My mother stared at me silently.
"I don't even know why I'm telling you all of this," I sighed in frustration. "I've literally told no one the truth about her, Mum. But, it's over now anyway. She ended it almost before it began. I loved her, and I thought that she felt the same way about me. Apparently, I was wrong."
Esme grasped my hand and stared directly into my eyes.
"Edward, you're my son and I love you, but you're a grown man, and I would never stand in judgment of your decisions," she said firmly. "I just hope you'll forgive me when I say that as a mother, it pains me to see you so heartbroken."
"Well, you must think I'm pretty foolish," I said, picking up the knife and resuming my chopping with a vengeance. "Here I am a grown man, as you said, pining over someone who's completely unavailable to me."
"I don't think you're foolish at all," she said gently. "I understand better than you think how all-consuming true love is. That's how it's always been between your father and me."
"Mum, no offense, but I really don't know if I can handle thinking of the two of you that way," I groaned.
"Oh, hush," Esme said, swatting my arm playfully. "I'm not talking about our sex-life. Although that's pretty spectacular too," she mused.
I groaned again.
Please tell me that I'm not having a conversation about sex with my very proper English mother. Has everything in my life taken a turn for the surreal?
She appeared to ignore my discomfort, and continued speaking.
"Love isn't always 'convenient', Edward," she said with a far-off look in her eyes. "It has the habit of striking at the most inopportune times, and with the least likely people. When you find that person who's truly your soul-mate, though, your love can transcend and withstand anything. That's how it's been for your father and I, and that's how I always hoped it would be for you."
"What, you and Dad?" I asked in amazement. "The two of you are perfect for each other. What possible obstacles could you have had to overcome?"
"We were barely out of our teens when we met," she replied softly. "Our families and friends couldn't believe that we truly understood what love was at such a young age. But we both just knew, from the moment we met, that we belonged to each other."
"It wasn't easy," she continued. "We had to overcome a lot of skepticism along the way. Your father came from old money, and I … well, I didn't. He was on the fast-track to medical school, while I had no discernible talent except for an interest in interior design. The first few years of our marriage involved a lot of sacrifices, especially after you came along."
She patted my hand and smiled at me fondly.
"Not that I would change anything, mind you, but it was certainly a challenge for both of us coping with the pressures and long hours of medical school with a baby to care for. Even after your father finished his residency, we had our fair share of hurdles to overcome."
She chuckled softly.
"It's not always easy being a doctor's wife. The erratic schedules, the long hours and the bevy of young nurses who throw themselves at all of the doctors, especially someone as attractive as your father, can take a toll on a marriage after a while. And yet, the love that Carlisle and I share has remained constant over the years. It has guided us through everything, and we've never once doubted that we are the single most important thing to each other."
Esme sighed quietly.
"I suppose I'm telling you all of this because I've never heard you say that you've been in love before. I agree that the situation is complicated, but if you truly love this woman, it tells me that she's someone very special. I've never known you to give up easily on anything that's important to you. So tell me, Edward, is this a love worth fighting for?"
"I don't know," I mumbled, utterly bewildered. "If you had asked me a few days ago, I would have said yes, unconditionally. Everything she said, everything she did, led me to believe that she loved me as much I loved her. I truly thought that she was going to leave her husband. I even asked her to come to England with me, Mum. But then everything changed. She thought I was just using her, and she said that I'd be better off without her. She told me that she was going to try to make things work with her husband after all, and that I should never try to contact her or see her again. Bella said that she didn't love me. She probably never did."
I slumped dejectedly against the counter, trying to control my roiling emotions. I hated that I was reduced to confiding in my mother about my love life, like some blubbering schoolboy rejected by his first crush, but part of me was relieved too. It was liberating finally being honest about Bella with someone.
"Bella. Is that her name?" Esme murmured. "Oh, that's lovely." She shook her head and seemed to rouse herself. "Edward, did it ever occur to you that she might have only said those things to protect you? You both would have a lot at stake if you were to pursue a relationship together. Maybe she felt that you had more to lose with your career and celebrity status and said those things just to try to push you away."
I felt myself recoil from her words.
"But … that doesn't matter to me," I stammered. "I even told her as much, Mum. I would gladly give up all of my fame and fortune to be with Bella."
Esme sighed.
"But surely you can see that she wouldn't want to be the cause of that," she said quietly. "If you were to give up your career, she would always wonder if you resented her for it. That would be as selfish as me asking your father to stop being a doctor and get a nice, quiet nine-to-five job selling imported cars, or something. When you love someone that deeply, you put their needs before your own. And sometimes that means letting them go."
I shook my head in disbelief.
"You're not reacting at all the way I expected," I said slowly. "What you said actually makes a lot of sense, given Bella's personality. I'm just frankly surprised that you have so much empathy for her, never having met her. I thought you'd be horrified that I was in love with someone who comes with so much 'baggage'."
Esme shrugged slightly and smiled at me.
"As I said before, Edward, if you love her, then she must be someone pretty special. I just want you to be happy. Only you can decide how much you're willing to risk in pursuit of that happiness."
"I'd risk it all if I thought that we still had a chance," I said emphatically. I hesitated for a moment. "Do you still think we have a chance?" I asked.
"Only Bella can answer that question," Esme said gently. "Give it some time, Edward. As much as you're hurting right now, I can only imagine that Bella's going through the same thing, if she loves you as much as I suspect she does. Try to focus on your work for now. Enjoy being back in London. Reconnect with some of your old friends. Time heals all wounds. You'll know when the time is right to contact her again."
"Would you and Dad really be okay with me and Bella being together?" I asked curiously. "You wouldn't feel strange about having a daughter-in-law only twelve years younger than you? Or about having a seventeen year-old instant granddaughter, for that matter?"
Wait. What? Did I really just imply that I want to marry Bella? It was the first time I had allowed myself to think of her in those terms, much less voice those feelings to someone else.
Do I want to marry her? I admitted that the answer was yes. There was no one else I could envision spending the rest of my life with. I've completely lost my fucking mind.
Esme seemed unfazed, even though my head was still spinning from my realization.
"Oh, Edward, age is just a number," she said, laughing lightly. "I don't feel like I'm fifty. What difference does it make how old she is? And of course her daughter would be welcomed into the family. I've always wanted to be a grandmother," she smiled.
"I still can't believe how you're just taking this all in stride," I said dazedly. "Won't you be terribly disappointed if my career ends up going to shit over this?"
"You worry entirely too much about what other people think," Esme replied. "Your father and I could never be disappointed in you; we just want you to be happy. And the public has a short attention span. There may be a scandal for a while, but they'll soon move on to the next big story of the day, like that Lohan woman being forced back into rehab again. I seriously doubt that your career will suffer any permanent damage because of who you're sharing your bed with."
"Mum, you're a marvel," I laughed, kissing her cheek impulsively.
"Well, I guess my secret's out now," she said, touching my face tenderly and gazing at me with moist eyes. "I've always been a believer in true love and 'happily-ever-afters'."
Ah, my mother; the eternal optimist.
The reality was, my relationship with Bella was still broken, and I had no idea if we could fix it. And yet, here I was fantasizing about marrying her some day, when I couldn't even pick up the phone to call her. Delusional much, Edward?
At least it gave me some comfort to know that I would have my family's support if by some slim chance Bella and I could be together. I wasn't planning on discussing my predicament with Bella with my father, but I knew that Esme would fill him in eventually. Having her support implicitly implied that I would have his as well. If she declared that the sky was green, then he would more than likely be inclined to agree. The sun rose and set on Esme as far as Carlisle was concerned, and I had always admired the special bond that they shared.
"Oh, dear. I'm afraid I've gone all emotional on you," Esme chastised herself, wiping her eyes. "You can stop chopping now, Edward. I think you've got more there than the three of us can possibly eat." She transferred the mountain of vegetables in front of me to a baking dish with a bemused smile, and slid it into the oven.
"Now, let me show you what I've done to the sitting room since you were last here," she said, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
"Mum, have you been redecorating again?" I asked, chuckling as I followed her down the hallway.
"You know me," she said with a musical laugh. "I get bored looking at the same furnishings after a while. I always have to try something new and different."
"Wow. Different is right," I murmured, as I stepped into the room and appreciatively took in my surroundings.
"I kept your piano, of course," Esme said, clapping her hands and vibrating with barely contained excitement, "but I changed almost everything else. Do you like it?"
"It's lovely," I said truthfully, looking around at the room's white-on-beige color scheme and tasteful appointments. The space resonated with Esme's touch; it was sophisticated and understatedly elegant, just like her.
I walked over to the piano and hesitantly touched one of the keys. The single note hung in the air, and I sighed deeply.
"Would you play something?" Esme asked softly. "It's been so long …"
I sat and immediately launched into Bach, my hands moving rapidly over the keys from memory. I allowed my mind to drift as the soothing power of the music took over, and I suddenly realized that I was no longer playing the piece I had started.
"Oh, how beautiful," Esme murmured from beside me. "Did you write that?"
"It's 'Bella's Song'," I replied, my fingers caressing the keys as I had so recently caressed her body. My throat constricted at the bittersweet memory.
As the final notes faded, I heard someone cough discreetly from the doorway.
"Well, that's sounding quite promising. New composition, is it, son?"
I started guiltily, as though I had just been caught fondling myself to a Maxim magazine, and looked up to see my father with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his scrubs leaning against the door sill.
"Dad," I said, getting quickly to my feet and crossing the room. Like my mother, Carlisle never seemed to age. He still had a trim, muscular build, and his short blonde hair was barely touched with gray. With his patrician nose and vibrant green eyes, his face was a mirror image of what I imagined I would look like as I grew older. After we shook hands and hugged, he pulled my mother into a gentle embrace and kissed her softly.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I have to head back to the hospital for a bit after dinner. I have a couple of patients in Intensive Care who aren't doing well at the moment, and I really should check on them."
"That's fine, dear," Esme said quietly. "I'm just glad that you could get away for supper and to see Edward."
I watched them stare lovingly at each other with a touch of envy.
They really are perfect together …
Dinner was pleasant enough, and Esme mercifully steered the conversation away from any mention of Houston and Bella. I had barely eaten in the last twenty-four hours, but I had little appetite. I kept thinking of sitting across the table from Bella and watching her as she ate. I had committed every little nuance to memory; her dark, expressive eyes, the long tendrils of hair that she pushed absently away from her face, her full, pink lips poised at the rim of a glass and the graceful slope of her throat as she swallowed.
I knew that my mother's feelings would be hurt if continued to pick at my food, so I choked down as much as I dared despite the churning nausea in my stomach, and tried to be as engaged as possible in the conversation.
When supper ended, Esme waved away my offer to help tidy up the kitchen, and with a slightly guilty conscience I used the excuse of travel fatigue to facilitate my departure. I wasn't really any more tired than usual, and my parents' company was enjoyable to a point, but the strain of trying to appear cheerful when I felt like I was flying apart at the seams inside, was beginning to take a toll on me.
Good thing I'm an actor …
Carlisle offered to drive me back to my flat on his way to the hospital, and I gratefully accepted. Darkness had long-since fallen and the rain persisted. I wasn't particularly keen on getting drenched twice in one day. Even I wasn't that much of a masochist.
Before I left, Esme pulled me into a hug.
"I know you'll be awfully busy filming for the next few months, but do try to come around when you can," she said.
"I will, Mum, I promise," I replied, smiling as she unconsciously straightened my hood as if I was seven instead of twenty-seven.
"Follow your heart, Edward," she whispered, giving me a final embrace. "Take some time to heal, but don't wait too long to contact Bella. You deserve your 'happily every after'. Don't give it up without a fight."
I nodded mutely, not trusting myself to answer. I truly was lucky to have Esme as a mother. Her care and compassion touched me deeply. Perhaps it was a bit Freudian, but it was those same qualities that had initially drawn me to Bella. I quickly pushed the thought aside as I bid goodbye to my mother. I was in no frame of mind to psychoanalyze my motives.
If loving Bella is wrong, then I don't want to be right, I thought wearily as I stared unseeingly through the rain-splattered windshield of Carlisle's car on the short drive back to my apartment. I'm so completely fucked.
After several minutes, I became aware that Carlisle was looking at me in puzzled silence as he drove.
"What's on your mind, Dad?" I finally sighed.
"I was about to ask you the same question, Edward," Carlisle replied cautiously. "Don't take this the wrong way, son, but you've looked better. Anything you care to talk about?"
"Not really," I mumbled. "I guess I'm just tired; I haven't been sleeping well lately. I talked to Mum earlier. I'm sure she'll bring you up to speed on the details of our conversation."
"You know, if you're having trouble sleeping, I can write you a prescription," Carlisle said slowly.
"No!" I said sharply. I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled as my father stared at me.
Are you out of your fucking mind? the devil on my shoulder screamed at me. Take the drugs! They'll make you feel better. They'll help you forget her.
"Fuck off," I snarled. "I don't want to forget her, although I probably should. And I don't want to feel 'better'. I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all. Maybe I deserve to hurt …"
"Beg pardon?" Carlisle said.
Shit. Did I just say that out loud? I realized that the car had come to a stop in front of my building. I wondered how long I had been sitting there wrestling with myself.
"Nothing, Dad. Sorry. I was just thinking out loud," I said hastily. I got out of the car and paused with my hand on the door.
"Thanks for the ride. Maybe if I get a break in my schedule, I can stop by the hospital one day and we can have lunch."
Really, Edward? Talk about the ultimate Hollywood douchebag line. 'Let's do lunch'; really? Is that the best you can come up with for your father?
It occurred to me that I really did deserve to hurt, since all I seemed to do was hurt the people that I loved most. I'd hurt my parents with the constant upheaval and drama of my personal life and I'd hurt Bella by rushing her into a relationship that she obviously wasn't ready for. I really was a self-centered, selfish prick.
"That'd be fine, Edward," Carlisle replied, pulling me from my reverie. "Just call when you can. I know you'll be busy." He gave me a small smile as I shut the door and then he drove off into the night.
The rain had finally stopped, and I realized that the last thing I wanted was to go upstairs to the chilly, barren tomb of my apartment. I was wide awake thanks to jet lag, and I tried to ignore my involuntary mental calculation that told me it was only three in the afternoon in Houston.
I decided to take at least part of my mother's advice in regards to reconnecting with some of my old London acquaintances. Pulling out my phone, I leaned back against the damp brick wall, out of the busy flow of pedestrian traffic, and dialed Garrett's number. As luck would have it, I caught him on his way out the door to meet some friends at a jazz club not far from my flat. Since he also lived in SoHo, we agreed to meet at the corner of Frith Street in ten minutes.
Garrett's tall, lanky frame was easy to spot as I approached our agreed-upon meeting place. He wore a black leather jacket with the collar turned up against the chill, and his long, sandy hair was pulled back in its customary ponytail.
"Edward, you git!" he said by way of greeting, as we engaged in the ritual awkward man-hug. "Well, well," he said, grinning as he looked me up and down. "If it isn't the prodigal son, come home to London so that we mere mortals can bask in the glory of your stardom again."
"Piss off, Garrett," I laughed, as we began walking. I never took offense to his banter. We had know each other for more than ten years, and we had the kind of easy friendship that we could effortlessly fall back into even after spending months apart.
"So, how's Hollywood been treating you, then?" Garrett queried. "Is it really all 'wine, women and song' 24/7 like everyone says it is?"
"Pretty much," I replied. "'Though, I think I'm ready to swear off women for good at this point."
"No problem there, mate," Garrett chuckled. "This is SoHo, after all. I'm sure you'd be able to find any number of gay men more than willing to help someone as pretty as you forget their troubles."
"Not funny," I growled. "I just meant that I've no desire to get serious about another woman any time soon. I seem to have become a magnet for disastrous relationships lately, and I'm ready for a break from the drama."
"So? Who says you have to get serious?" Garrett shrugged. "You're Edward-fucking-Cullen. Do whatever makes you happy. You want to fuck a hundred different women? Great. You want to get married and have eight kids? You have my blessings. Just don't start letting other people run your life just because you're a celebrity now. You'll still be the same wanker you always were to me."
"Thanks, Garrett," I smiled. "I know I can always count on you to give me some perspective."
We had reached our destination, and could hear loud jazz music pouring from the club as we made our way through the crowd toward the entrance.
"What are you doing?" Garrett yelled over the noise, as I paused and stared up at the sky.
"Nothing," I sighed. "Just trying to see if I could spot any stars."
"In London?" Garrett laughed. "With these clouds and bright city lights? Not bloody likely, mate."
BPOV
I awoke shivering on Saturday morning, still curled up in the lounge chair on the patio. I was stiff and covered in dew. After spending a sleepless night staring up at the sky and agonizing over the events of the preceding twenty-four hours, I had finally dozed off sometime before dawn.
I wandered into the house and made myself some tea. I held the steaming cup between my trembling hands, trying to dispel the chill that seemed to have settled deep into my bones. Claire had left me a note on the kitchen counter, and I read it listlessly. She had already left to join some members of her track team at the gym for a workout, and then they were all going out to breakfast afterwards. I regretted not having the chance to talk to her before she left, and I guiltily wondered how she was holding up after the previous day's bombshell.
A long, warm shower did nothing to assuage the cold, dark numbness that had permeated my body. I dressed in leggings and an old, oversized UT sweatshirt and was toweling my hair dry when I heard the doorbell ring and an incessant pounding begin on the front door downstairs.
I rolled my eyes. I only knew one person who invariably announced her presence in such a flamboyant manner, and I wasn't entirely sure that I was ready to talk to her yet. Nevertheless, I made my way downstairs and warily opened the door.
"Hi, Angela," I said tiredly.
"Well, it's about damn time!" she said cheerfully. "I was ready to call Charlie and have him organize a search-party for you. I've been trying to call your cell since yesterday, and you haven't been answering your home phone either. After you left me that message yesterday that you weren't coming in to the clinic and that I had some 'serious explaining' to do, I got worried. So, here I am."
I stared at her silently from the doorway, and had the sudden, overwhelming urge to shut the door in her face. I fought to suppress my anger.
I need answers, and Angela's the only one who can give them to me.
"Well?" she asked impatiently. "Are you going to make me stand out here waiting to be invited in like cheesy B-movie vampire? Come on," she cajoled, "I even picked up cappuccinos and chocolate croissants from Panera for us …"
She waved the brown paper bag back and forth in front of my face.
"Fine," I mumbled, finally stepping aside and granting her entry. I followed her to the kitchen, where she immediately busied herself setting out the pastry and coffee on the breakfast bar.
"So, what's with the mysterious silent-treatment?" she asked as she bustled about the kitchen. "First you tell me we have to talk, and then all I keep getting is your voicemail."
"Turnedmyphoneoff," I mumbled.
"What?"
"I turned my phone off," I repeated slowly. "I … I really wasn't up to talking to anybody yesterday."
Angela suddenly stopped her activity and scrutinized my closely. I cringed as her eyes lingered on my still-wet hair and baggy sweatshirt.
"Jeez, Bella. You look awful," she said quietly. "Did you get any sleep last night?"
"Thanks a lot," I snapped, taking a swallow of my cappuccino and glaring at her over the rim of the paper cup. "As a matter of fact, no. I barely slept at all."
Don't take this out on Angela, I tried to remind myself. She's not the enemy here. At least, I don't think she is. I guess I need to hear what she has to say first.
"It's awfully quiet around here for a weekend," Angela said suspiciously. "Where are Jake and Claire?"
I sighed and picked at the flakes on my croissant.
"Claire's working out with the track team, and Jake … well, Jake doesn't live here anymore," I replied quietly. "He left me, Ange."
"What?" Angela spluttered, choking on a mouthful of pastry.
"Oh, come on," I said bitterly, staring at her through narrowed eyes. "Surely you of all people saw this coming. Apparently I was the only one naïve enough not to realize that my husband's been cheating on me for a long time. Edward said that you'd be able to shed quite a bit of light on that particular subject."
My voice broke as I said his name. I had been trying to avoid thinking of him, and a fresh wave of agony engulfed me.
"Son of a bitch," Angela murmured, wiping her mouth with a napkin, and for a moment I wasn't sure if she was talking about Jake or Edward.
"So, Jake left you?" she asked cautiously, searching my face. "Did he find out about you and Edward?"
"There is no 'me and Edward'," I shouted, my eyes filling with tears. "I broke things off with him yesterday, before he went back to England. Then Jake came home from his business trip and informed me that he's in love with his assistant Leah, of all people. He's been planning to leave me for a while, Ange. He even bought her a ring. I suspected about the ring, but I guess I just didn't expect him to be so … final about it yesterday. In light of the circumstances, I didn't see much point in telling him about Edward."
"Oh, Bella. God. I … I'm so sorry," Angela stammered, seemingly at a loss for words for the first time in her life.
"I don't understand," she said quietly, after a short pause. "I mean, the part about Jake doesn't really surprise me. Sorry, Bella; I've always thought he was an ass. But what happened with Edward? He loves you. He told me so himself."
I stared at her as a feeling of unreality washed over me.
"He told you that at lunch?" I whispered. "He only admitted it to me yesterday. Apparently, the two of you discussed a lot of things that day that I wasn't privy to. Just what exactly have you been hiding from me about Jake? And what gave you the right to talk to Edward about it before saying anything to me? You have to come clean with me now."
"I guess I held out on you for exactly this reason," Angela said, looking miserable. "You hate me now, don't you? You probably feel ten shades of betrayed, and I don't blame you. I swear to God, I don't know anything about Jake's recent 'extra-marital' activities, but I've always had my suspicions. Let's just say that a leopard never changes his spots …"
"Angela, just spit it out already," I said, trying to keep the tremor from my voice. "It can't possibly be worse than the scenarios I have running through my head."
Angela began speaking quietly and urgently, and listened in stunned silence until she was finished.
I guess I was wrong. Things can always be worse than you imagine.
"Angela, how could you keep something like that from me all of these years?" I asked shakily. I felt tears running down my cheeks, and I brushed them angrily away.
"I'm sorry, Bella. I made a mistake, I know that now," she replied, her eyes glistening. "I thought you would somehow believe that I encouraged Jake to hit on me, and that it would ruin our friendship. Then, when you told me that you were pregnant, I didn't want to add to your stress. After Claire was born … I don't know. The three of you were happy together. Jake seemed to be treating you well, and I didn't want to be the 'fly in the ointment'. It just became harder and harder to tell you as time went by."
"I could see that you weren't happy for the last few years," she continued. "And on the few occasions I spent time around Jake, I was pretty appalled at the way he treated you. I started to suspect that he hadn't really changed at all, but I just didn't know how to broach the subject. That's one of the reasons why I was so happy when Edward came into your life."
I raised a skeptical eyebrow at Angela as I wiped my nose in a decidedly unladylike fashion on the sleeve of my sweatshirt.
"You were hardly Edward's biggest fan at first, remember?" I sniffled. "Weren't you the one who said that I was 'complicating my life unnecessarily'?"
"But that was before I got know him," Angela protested. "Celebrities generally don't have greatest track records when it comes to relationships. You can hardly blame me for questioning his motives. But he loves you, Bella. And I guess I hoped that by being with him you would realize that deserve so much more than Jake has to offer, and that you'd leave his sorry ass of your own accord."
She grimaced. "I know that you probably don't trust me any more, and I don't know if you'll ever be able to forgive me, but please tell me what happened between you and Edward. The two of you were perfect together. Why did you split up, especially if you already suspected that Jake was having an affair?"
"I had my reasons," I said grimly, studiously avoiding her eyes. "Maybe I just finally realized that he deserved more than what I could offer him. As for forgiving you, I … I think I just need some time to process all of this, Angela. I understand why you did it; I know you were trying to protect me. But I'm a grown woman, and I just wish I'd had all of the facts sooner so that I could have made my own decisions. Maybe it wouldn't have changed anything in the long run, but then again, my life could have turned out completely different. Now, I'll never know."
"I'm so, so sorry, Bella," Angela murmured. "I never meant to hurt you. I'm probably the last person you feeling like taking advice from right now, but listen to yourself. You've always been selfless to a fault, even it means sacrificing your own happiness. Don't you think it's time that you stop selling yourself short? And what about Edward's happiness? He's as much an adult as you are, and he certainly knew exactly what he was getting into by getting involved with you. Does he even know that Jake left?"
I shook my head mutely.
"Doesn't he deserve to know?" she asked gently. "I screwed up big-time by not being honest with you, Bella. I took away your ability to make an informed decision about your future. Don't do the same thing to him."
"I know. I know," I cried, burying my face in my hands. "But it's too late now. I said some terrible things that I'll never be able to take back. I love him, and I am thinking of his happiness, don't you see? That's why I pushed him away. It's better this way. It's good that he doesn't know about Jake. He has his career to focus on now, and he doesn't need any distractions. He'll heal in time, and … so will I."
Liar! My mind screamed. I may learn to live with this pain eventually, but I'll never heal. I'll never forget what could have been …
Angela put her arm around my shoulders and I stiffened.
Uh, uh. I'm not letting you off the hook that easily, Ange. There's plenty of blame to go around for the debacle that is my life, but I'm still not ready to forgive you for the role that you played.
As Angela removed her arm with a chastened expression, I sighed inwardly. Who am I kidding? I really have no one but myself to blame.
"I still think you're making a mistake," she said quietly. "I love you like a sister, Bella. I always have and I always will; nothing can ever change that. Things won't be easy for a while, but I hope you know that whatever you and Claire need, you can count on me."
I shrugged noncommittally and nodded slightly.
This is something that you can't 'fix' for once, Angela. No one can. This is one fairytale that just doesn't have a happy ending.
EPOV
True to Alice's word, there was a car and driver waiting outside my flat on Monday morning to take me to the studio. As we wove through the heavy London traffic, on the correct side of the road, naturally, I pondered my weekend.
I was actually fairly proud of the way I'd handled myself. Maybe there was hope for me yet.
My excursion to the jazz club with Garrett on Saturday night hadn't been nearly as traumatic as I'd feared. I hadn't drunk to excess, and I hung back slightly from the group, watching in amusement as Garrett and his other mates flirted shamelessly with an endless parade of young women.
On a couple of occasions, I was recognized, and was asked to pose for phone-camera pictures with several women, and one decidedly effeminate man. I complied with as much grace as possible, amid plenty of good-natured ribbing from Garrett and his crew. I was fairly certain that the photos would end up on someone's Facebook page, but it was preferable to having my image splashed across the front cover of OK! Magazine.
I had spent Sunday unpacking, stocking my small kitchen with food supplies and looking over my script. I still battled the constant urge to check my phone for messages from Bella, but I was beginning to realize that it was an exercise in futility. With the way things had ended between us, I knew that any communication would most likely have to be initiated on my part, and I wasn't ready yet. Our wounds were still too fresh, and a shamefully large part of my ego couldn't handle the possibility of being rejected again.
I tried to block out thoughts of Bella and focus on the task at hand, which was a meeting with the director of Dark Ransom and my new leading lady.
Twenty minutes later, I was being shown into a spacious meeting room. Two women faced each other across a conference table, and they both looked up as I entered.
"Edward, there you are!" cried one of the women excitedly. She jumped up from her chair and ran around the table to give me an exuberant hug.
"Catherine," I said politely, looking at the grinning, middle-aged woman before me. She had an equine face, limp blonde hair and a skinny frame. I had never worked with a female director, and although we had met during casting for the film, I was quickly learning that she did things a bit differently than the directors I had worked with previously.
For one thing, they didn't go around hugging me.
"You know Tanya, of course," Catherine gushed, dragging me over to where the other woman sat.
"Uh, yeah," I said, setting the backpack containing my script down on the conference table. "We ran some lines together last spring."
"Nice to see you again, Edward," Tanya said casually.
I stared. You couldn't help but stare at Tanya; her very presence lit up a room. She was as breathtakingly beautiful as Catherine was plain. She had long, curly, strawberry-blonde hair, and her mesmerizing blue eyes were the color of the ocean. She was wearing a short black mini-skirt, and her narrow, black stiletto heels were propped up on the table, exposing miles of smooth, pale legs.
"Hello, Tanya," I replied, trying not to audibly gulp. Then I mentally slapped myself. She was certainly gorgeous, even as actresses went, but she still wasn't Bella. I sighed inwardly.
What is it about Bella that makes her so irresistible to me? Her inner beauty combined with her outer loveliness just eclipses all other women.
"Okay, well, let's dive right into it, shall we?" Catherine said, as I settled myself in a seat next to Tanya. "As you know, this film has some pretty intense romantic moments between the two of you."
She paused and then smiled widely.
"Oh, hell. Why be coy about it? I'm talking about sex here, people, and I want the audience to feel the sparks flying!"
Damn. Of all the scenes in the movie, why did she have to start off by discussing that one? It's a murder mystery, for God's sake. It's not like we're making a porno.
I felt my eyes begin to glaze over as Catherine started talking about the type of lighting she would use to accentuate our bare skin, positions we would use, 'pasties' and 'modesty slings'.
I glanced over at Tanya to see how she was reacting to our director's enthusiastic sexual onslaught, and saw that she was smirking at me.
Fuck. I'm so fucking screwed. What the hell have I gotten myself into?
A/N:
Oh, dear. What has Edward gotten himself into? Will he stay true to Bella and take Esme's advice to fight for her or will he move on? And what about Bella? Can her friendship with Angela be repaired, and will she finally realize that she deserves to be happy with Edward? Leave me a review and let me know what you think!