Nowforruin betas this. Thank you.
I don't own Twilight. Any similarities to actual persons or events, alive or dead, real or fictitious, are merely coincidental, and most likely the product of my feverish imagination.
24.
September 16, 2008.
As the laughter dies down, my eyes open slowly. I'm in my bed. Morning light is filtering in through the half-drawn shades, and the feeling of relief settles briefly before it's swept away by a wave of fear.
I'm alone.
I can't remember how I got here, or why my foot is pulsing in pain. Attempting to sit up, I feel dizzy, a splitting headache sending a sharp pain down my spine. But I'm thirsty, my mouth parched, so I bite down, bear the pain, and stumble out of bed.
Splashing water on my face after drinking it straight from the faucet, my eyes land on the ring sitting in the box. As the memories of yesterday start filtering into my foggy brain, hitting me like a ton of bricks, my breath falters and my knees go weak. I'm no longer panicking. This time it's worse. I'm doomed.
"Edward?" I hear a voice calling from a distance, followed by quick footstep, as I hold myself up, clutching the sink. "How're you feeling?"
I turn my head slightly and stare at her. She's standing, spatula in hand, dressed in a t-shirt and underwear in the bathroom door.
"How … when?" I croak out and swallow. I hope this is not a dream. "When did you get here?"
"You don't remember much, I guess." She steps forward, shaking her head with a smile and rubs my back, placing a kiss on my cheek. "Jeez, you reek of booze," she murmurs, her head on my shoulder, her body vibrating with laughter.
Despite the strong desire to collapse on the floor and crawl back to bed, I straighten up and pull her close to me, press her against me as hard as I can, tucking my head into her hair. I shudder.
"What's wrong?" she whispers, stirring in my embrace.
"I don't remember you coming home."
"I'm sorry. I swear, I didn't mean to scare you." She takes my hand. "Come. I made breakfast."
In a daze, I follow her, limping, noticing that my foot is wrapped up in gauze, to the kitchen.
"Sit," she orders and pushes another chair over to rest my foot on. After pouring us both some coffee and pushing two plates with eggs and toast on the table, she sits down across from me. "It's probably best that you're sitting. I hope you're not gonna get mad. I mean, I didn't to do it. It just sort of happened." She's fidgeting with her hands, touching the cup, letting it go, pushing it around on the kitchen table, then running one hand through her hair. "Anyway, I just better come out and say it: I totaled your BMW yesterday."
"I don't understand."
"I totaled it. Completely smashed. Crashed it into another car. How else can I put it?" Her hands fly up in the air quickly. She's gesturing frantically while I try to follow. "I didn't pay attention … ran a light actually, and drove straight into this other car. I'm sure your insurance will go up. It was totally my fault. Luckily the other driver is okay."
"Stop." I grab her hands, the movement making me dizzy. "Are youokay?" I run my thumbs over them. "I don't give a shit about the car."
She exhales and smiles. "Yeah. I'm fine. The airbags popped, but I'm fine. I tried calling you, but my phone died and the only number I remembered was for your BlackBerry and, well …" I nod. It was turned off. "I'm so sorry. I was all the way out in Long Island to cancel all the wedding stuff-"
"Why?" I swallow and take a sip of the coffee. I'm still not fully here.
"Please feel free to correct me, but didn't you lose your job yesterday?" Her brows are furrowed, her lips turned up in amusement. "I thought I was doing the only responsible thing here: downsize. I never wanted all of it anyway. Renee hired this guy who made most of the reservation, and it took some arguing to get out of it, but I managed to cancel most of the stuff. I'm afraid any savings I managed to negotiated are sort of nixed because of the car and all."
I chuckle and my shoulders relax. My brain has difficulty processing what's happening, what she's telling me. It all seems like too simple of an explanation. It can't be this easy.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing." I shake my head and rub my eyes with one hand, holding on to hers with my other one, afraid to let it go. "I went crazy wondering what you were up to. I thought you were calling the whole thing off after I got that email from the caterer."
"Why would I do that?"
Her question alarms me. My heart speeds up and I want to vanish on the spot as she narrows her eyes. I said too much. She's onto me now.
"Just tell me." Her eyes are imploring me gently.
I want to tell her, "I don't know," feign that it was just my insecurity that made me come to rash conclusions, anything but to admit my failings, my shortcomings.
And it's a tempting choice—moving on without ever revealing all the things that make you ugly. I hesitate for a moment, struggle with what to say. Avoidance is an easier tactic, my brain tells me, but my heart tells me otherwise.
"Because I thought you may have found out some things about me, things I've done, that would make you want to run … cancel the wedding."
She stays silent, a smile on her lips.
"You're far less of a mystery than you think you are, Edward, you know that?"
"How so?"
"You tell me. Confess your sins." She removes her hand from mine and I start to sweat.
"I guess I should fess up. " I lean back, wondering where to begin. "I set up your ex up to fall into bed with a call girl," I admit. "I was … am in love with you. I'm sorry." Surely that deceit is the worst on my long list of crimes. Yet, her expression doesn't shift. "You knew?"
"Kind of … " She smirks, shrugs her shoulders. "When Jasper broke up with Alice, and I didn't completely take her side, she got mad. She told me about the whole thing, including her duplicity in it. I understand why you wouldn't want to tell me. Riley was a louse. I don't care. Honestly. I mean it." She shifts in her chair, gets up and walks a few steps to the window before turning around to face me. "There are, however, other things you kept from me that I'm more concerned about." I want to laugh, because everything else seems puny to me in comparison, but the seriousness of her tone gives me reason not to. "Like, if you're going with anybody into business, I'd actually like to know about it before you go ahead an do it. Just for future reference."
"How …?" is all I bring out at first. She shoots me a disapproving look. I shake my head. I wish the headache was gone, my head clear. I fear that just one wrong word uttered from my mouth could doom me. "Never mind. It's not the point."
"You're right, it isn't. But if you must know, your BlackBerry kept on ringing one day, and I picked it up. It was the attorney who filed the papers for the corporation you set up. He had some questions. After I hung up, I checked your email accounts. You should really switch up your passwords." I stare at her in disbelief.
"I'm sorry. I promise to keep you in the loop going forward. I just wanted to wait. I thought you wouldn't exactly like it." I get up, limp forward to close the distance I can no longer handle. "I'm sorry. Please." When her arms come up around my neck and her head rests on my chest, I start feeling better. Despite my headache, the sour taste in my mouth and my aching foot, I feel lighter, better than I have in a long time. I think this is it.
"There's more, isn't there?" she says, not moving her head.
"Like what?" Nothing else comes to mind.
"Bree."
"She made me promise not to tell you." My voice is as weak as my excuse. I see that now. She tries to move, but I hold on to her. "No," I plead.
"I don't give a shit what she made you promise, Edward." Pushing me away, she moves back to the table. "You should've told me!" For the first time during this conversation, I detect actual anger, hurt in her expression. "You know how I found out about her?" Her hands have latched on the back of one of the chairs, her fingers pressing hard into the metal.
"No."
"She died. Drug overdose. The police were investigating it for a bit, poking around, trying to figure out whether foul play was involved. A detective knocked on my apartment door one day wanting information."
"Why didn't you tell me?" It's a complaint I have no business making. Feeling lost without her close to me, I follow her to where she's standing, sit down in the chair next to her and take her hand trying to pull her onto my lap. She hesitates, then steps back.
"You were working late. I couldn't reach you. The next day you left for London on business."
I nod, remembering that trip. The regret of not being able to be there for her makes me feel like less of a man. What good am I to her if she can't confide in me?
"They knew about my father's affair. They must have put two and two together after they figured out she lived in an apartment owned by my father's company and received monthly payments without being on the payroll. Our family doctor wrote all the prescriptions in her cabinet. I confronted my mother about it. She confirmed it." I flinch. "Don't worry, she didn't rat you out. Not voluntarily anyway. I asked her why she didn't let Bree stay at the house. I was furious with her. She told me about the abortion and all the rest. She never let it slip that you were there. My father did."
"About your father … he made me an offer."
"I figured he would." She huffs, wrapping her arms around her middle. "And?" With a tense look on her face, she stares at me expectantly.
"I didn't take it."
"I'm glad."
"Me too."
"He's . . . " she starts, but then stops. Leaning against the table next to me, tears are nearly spilling, but then she inhales deeply and it stops. "I have no words for what he is. I shouldn't have put him on a pedestal for so long. Working for him opened my eyes, so in that sense you did me a favor." Her smile is weak, but it's there.
"I don't know about that." There's more to the story, I can sense. I want to ask her what exactly she figured out while working for him, but now is not the time.
"No. You did. You were right. I was a spoiled child."
"No, you're not. I love you."
"What does it even mean, Edward, if you think so little of me that you're not sharing anything with me for fear I run? You must think I'm so shallow and spoiled … that I won't have your back when trouble arises."
"Forgive me, please. I don't know what I'd do without you." Sounding pathetic was never my thing, nor appealing for pity, but right about now I'm contemplating crawling on my knees to beg her to stay with me. Before I fall to the ground, I feel her hands on my face.
"I'm not going to run. I'm here." Sliding onto my lap, she kisses me. I kiss her back, get lost in her touch.
We have time, I hope.
"I love you," I tell her again. "So much."
~o0o~
"Don't you have to go to work?" I ask her when I see the alarm clock next to the bed.
"Called in sick."
I hum in response, content with her lying naked on top of me.
"You should shower, brush your teeth."
I chuckle. "What happened last night?"
"You tell me." She props her head up on her hand and looks at me. "When I got home, you were asleep on the kitchen floor. Your foot was bleeding. There was glass from a broken scotch bottle everywhere. I don't know whether you smashed it before or after you drank it. Considering your state, I think it's safe to assume you finished it." She giggles, slides off to my side. "Oh, and you were hugging two empty tequila bottles to your chest. I cleaned up the glass and dragged you to bed."
"I got up?" Judging my current state, I must have been way past drunk. Delirious, possibly.
"Yeah, shockingly. After you threw up on me."
I cringe.
"I did?"
"Yeah." She's laughing hard.
"Okay. I'm going to shower. Now." I roll out of bed, reaching my hand out for her. "Come."
"I already showered. Last night."
"Take another one."
"I'm okay for now," she says, her form retreating into the sheets.
"You'll have to bid farewell to that nice computerized steam shower soon, so you really should enjoy it."
"What?" And for the first time today, she actually does look surprised.
"Shit. Considering the stuff you scoped out, how did you miss that I sold the apartment? Which reminds me, we should start looking at new places soon. The closing is scheduled in two weeks."
She covers her face with her hands, making it impossible for me to gauge her reaction.
"Come on, how did you think I got the capital to start the business in this economy?" I try to make a joke out of yet another failure of mine. She deserves so much better than what I've been giving her.
She shakes her head, laughing. Impatiently, I pick her up and carry her over my shoulder into the bathroom.
"Edward?"
"Bella?"
"I want to return the ring."
"Sure. Your mom picked it out. Sorry. I kind of need to save some money, so why don't we exchange it for something smaller?"
"I don't need one. Not one my mom picked and no replacement." I slowly drop her to the floor, confused by what she's telling me.
"I'm sorry but . . ." I scratch the back of my neck, look away, too ashamed to face her. If she wants me to wait, I will. "You don't want to get married?"
"No. Let's do it. All I'm saying is, I don't need a ring. A wedding band will do."
"Okay."
"One other thing."
"Anything," I tell her as I drag her into the steaming water.
"No more lies, half-truths or stuff you forget to mention, okay?"
I wipe the worry frown between her brows away with my thumb.
"I promise."
Thank you so much for reading—particularly all the people who stuck around & reviewed. This wouldn't be any fun without you. The people who have rec'd this fic – Kisvakondok, DreamOfTheEndless, IcarusToSun, alchemillamollis, cejsmom, Arabella's, ErikaJo, Spanklemaker9, BellaScotia—thank you so much. I'm sorry if I left anybody else out. I'll post an epilogue next week, which will complete the story.
I will be contributing something to Fandom For No Kid Hungry – maybe an outtake/future-take or a BPOV? Let me know what you'd like to read. I'm open to suggestions.
It's a great cause, please consider contributing to it at http:/fandomcause(dot)info/