When Edward walked in the room I looked down, a curtain of hair shielding my face. I was afraid. I was terrified. No, terrified didn't even begin to describe it. There was no word to go to the extreme lengths I was feeling at that moment.
I was afraid of what I would feel when Edward didn't know who I was.
I was afraid.
Edward looked around the room until he saw the only empty seat beside me. He walked over, pulled out the stool, and sat down, without a word.
Oh God, it hurt more than I thought.
That was when he slid an envelope towards me.
I glanced over at him, but his eyes were fixated on some kind of homework he probably hadn't been able to do. For a few seconds, I just stared at that envelope, lying there. He had clearly meant it to be for me, he had slid it deliberately across the countertop.
I picked it up, slowly, hesitantly, like it might explode upon contact, but opened it anyhow.
Dear Isabella Cullen,
You don't know me (well, I suppose you do, you just don't remember me), but I know you. When Jane brought this boy to me, she told me the situation. I remembered your name from that one fateful night, and have decided to do you a deep favour. Of course, I will be holding this against you for a while, but what else can you expect from me?
Long story short, he still remembers you. He remembers everything, besides the part where those feisty newborns used him as a blood bank. I thought he was best without that memory.
You owe me one,
Charlize Banks