Hi guys - I'm so happy to see that you all are still here with me and ready to ride it out despite being very confused. I'm of the mindset that there's no fun in predictability. Consider yourself warned haha (:

That being said, I hope you all feel a little less "in the dark" after this chapter. Can't wait to see what you guys think!


DISCLAIMER:The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

Beta: Fran

2018

A growl escapes my throat as I check my cell phone for what seems to be the hundredth time. Yet, no matter how many times I check it, the result remains the same.

He's late.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I mutter to myself as I slump back in my seat.

Edward seemed curious but willing to talk in his response to my text. We arranged to meet at this café for coffee. So, here I am waiting, and he's nowhere to be found.

The phone only rings once before Angela picks up at the other end.

"This is Angela," she answers, wearing the calm, formal voice she reserves for business dealings.

"He's late, Ang." I don't bother with formalities, opting to get right to what's bothering me.

"Oh," she snorts, now sounding distracted. "It's you."

"Of course, it's me," I reply, only slightly offended by her response. "Didn't you look at the caller ID before answering your phone?"

"I'm at work, Bella," she supplies with a sigh.

"On a Saturday?" I ask incredulously. "It's the weekend!"

"Weekends don't exist during tax season," Angela suddenly sounds tired. "But please, I need a distraction from the clusterfuck I'm currently dealing with; give me an update on the Edward situation."

"We arranged to meet today to talk," I sigh, rolling the edges of the napkin my quickly-cooling coffee sits on top of. "But he's late."

"How late is he?"

"About 20 minutes." I don't even try to keep the growl of contempt out of my voice.

"That's not too bad, though. The way you're acting, you'd think he's an hour late." I want to smack her for being so dismissive.

"It's the principle, Angela! He's wasting my time!" My voice raisesan octave as shreds of destroyed napkin flutter from my fingers to the table.

"Okay," Angela drawls slowly, processing the situation. "You're nervous about confronting him about this, so you're clearly freaking out."

"Yes!" I hiss, dropping my forehead to the tabletop in an effort to cool down my rapidly-heating face. "You know how I am with confrontation."

"You never did have the stomach for it," she murmurs wistfully, surely remembering – like I am – the number of occasions she fought my battles for me, literally and figuratively speaking. Then, after a quiet moment of reflection, Angela speaks again with a sigh. "You're not going to go through with it, are you?"

"Ang, I'm freaking out," I murmur, swallowing against the anxiety that tightens around my throat. "I can't even remember what I practiced saying to him."

"Think about why you're here. He cheated on his wife with you. He lied about his kid being his in order to manipulate you. Do you want to let it go; let him get away with what he's done?"

Angela's recap of the situation has my free hand clenching into a fist atop the café table. "No, he's a fucking asshole for roping me into this messy-ass situation."

"That's right!" Angela cheers me on as my anxiety is quickly usurped by my fury. "Fuck him!"

"Yeah, he let me fuck him when he was married to someone else!" I rush out, feeling my heart race as I flush with anger. "It's not right."

"He's a fucking douche!" Angela bellows into the phone, further amping me up.

"An asshole!" I cry out, voice dying out at the end as Edward interrupts my hype session with Angela by striding into the café.

"Shit, he's here," I hiss into the phone, lowering my voice conspiratorially. He stops at the entrance and shoves his hands into his pockets as he scans the expanse of the café slowly. The moment he spots me, his lips quirk up in a half-smile before he nods his head toward the cash register to indicate he's going to make his purchase before joining me at the table. "My God, he's so fucking hot," I murmur, watching as he eats up the space between him and the register with long, confident strides.

"Don't get distracted," Angela scolds. "His hotness does not negate the fact that he's an asshole cheater."

"Right," I sigh, tearing my eyes away from his tight backside. The tight backside I saw in all its naked glory the day he made me an accomplice in his duplicitous actions. "What do I say? How do I even start this conversation?"

"I say come right out with it. No sense in beating around the bush." After a pause, Angela snorts back a laugh and continues dryly. "Not after he's beat around a bush that's not his wife's. Your bush at that."

"Ang, I'm serious!" I whine, glancing over in time to catch Edward watching me with a slight frown. "I don't think I can do this."

"You can," Angela assures me. "Talk to him like he's one of your students; one who's done something wrong and needs to be disciplined."

"Hmm," I reply, picturing how I handled that exact situation not two days ago. Calm voice, matter-of-fact approach, and a focus on the impact of the student's actions. "That might work."

"You see," Angela says, brimming with support. "You got this."

"I've got to go," I tell her, watching as Edward accepts his coffee from the barista before turning in my direction. "He's headed this way."

"Good luck," she cries. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Oh God, I'm so glad you're not here right now." I laugh, biting into my bottom lip as Edward places his coffee on the table before pulling out the chair across from mine. "I'll talk to you later, Ang."

"Byeee," she sings before I end our call.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?" Edward asks, voice melodic as he gracefully drops into his seat. I avoid his eyes as I shake my head, swallowing before I croak out an unsteady "no."

"Okay, good." Edward smiles faintly before sobering. Letting out a sigh, he scrubs his hands through his hair and speaks in a tense voice. "I know you said you wanted to talk, but I want to be upfront about this before you start. I, uh, kind of had a feeling this was coming. I just want to say that I'm not looking for a girlfriend right now."

I immediately blanch at his hurried assertion. "No shit," I reply, anger coloring my words. "You're fucking married."

"What?" He snorts, his expression revealing amused confusion. "I'm not married."

"No way," I snap back. "I won't be distracted by your charm. I met your wife at school the other day; Irina Denali-Masen? Yeah, we had a nice little talk about your daughtermy student – Rose. The funny thing was, I thought she was your niece the whole time. Wonder where I got that idea!"

I'm hot and panting by the time I'm done with my verbal lashing. Edward regards me quietly, face stony and unreadable. After a moment, he lets out a deep sigh before reaching across the table for my hand. Alarmed that he'd have the audacity to touch me after I called him out, I snatch my hand from his and pettily move both of mine out of his reach by placing them in my lap.

"Look," he sighs again, retracting his hand in defeat. "I'm sorry I lied to you about Rose. You're right to be upset with me about that, I really fucked up on that front. But, you're wrong about something. I'm not married – Irina and I split up two years ago."

"But, Irina said –"

Edward cuts me off. "Yeah, I'm sure she called me her husband. She's under the impression that as long as I'm not with someone else, I'm still hers to claim. I'm going to have to talk to her about that – again."

"Okay," I drawl, still processing what he's said. "That still doesn't explain why you lied to me about Rosalie."

"I just," he groans, staring down at his hands, which have a white-knuckle grip around his coffee cup. "I'm a very private person. I don't like my personal business being available for public consumption. If you Google my name, it's like I've disappeared into thin air ever since the band split. That's how I like it, and I'd like to keep it that way for the foreseeable future."

Chewing my bottom lip, I mull over what he's said. It makes sense. There have been many times in the past, in which I have looked him up to be met with disappointment when I can find nothing about his current whereabouts or affairs.

But still, I find myself questioning his logic. Something doesn't add up.

"I can understand your need for privacy, but, Edward, you, yourself, said that you're no longer a household name." My stomach churns as I say this, hating to point out the fact that the person I've held on a pedestal for so many years has lost all of the fame and celebrity that put him there in the first place. "So, this wouldn't exactly be hot gossip."

"Maybe so," Edward shrugs, face still guarded. "But it's what I do when people recognize me, and clearly you did. Looking back on it, I realize it was fucked up to do since you're my kid's teacher. I wish I could go back and tell you the truth from the start, but there's nothing I can do now but apologize. I'm sorry for lying to you, Bella."

Swallowing, I acknowledge his apology with a quiet, "thank you," and say nothing more as I take a moment to process what he's told me. Lying about being Rosalie's father is a dick thing to do, but I can see he had good intentions in doing so. Say someone does sell that information to the media, it has the potential to bring unwanted attention to him and his family. However, seeing as I am his kid's teacher, it wouldn't be in my best interest to do something like that. I mean, I would be fucking with my own livelihood by selling out to the media. He should have realized that, as he said, and opted for telling me the truth upfront.

Clearly, he's paranoid as fuck, and I can't help but tell him as much.

"Honestly, though, I think you're being overly paranoid." That's a lot coming from me, Bella of the House Swan, the First of Her Name, Queen of Anxiety and Protector of Panic.

Edward regards me quietly for a moment before bringing his cup to his lips and taking a long, slow pull. He places it back on the table calmly and then lifts his eyes to mine as he addresses my comment. "To you, it might seem like I am. But you would do the same if you went through what I did."

Checkmate.

He's right. I have no idea what it's like to be famous. Therefore, I can't really judge him based on the things he does as a result of that fame.

He has effectively silenced me.


Well, do you guys agree with his logic? Where do these two go from here?

See you guys soon (:

xo

j