A/N: Twilly has created an absolutely gorgeous banner for this story. I've posted it on my brand new Google+ Acct. However, like all things to do with the internet, I may have done it wrong. I'm social networking retarded. Maggie Chambers on FB, Margaret Chambers on Google+. No, I don't Tweet because I never have anything interesting to say.
After the double blows of her conversation with her father and receiving the package from Edward, she was unable to reconnect with her sense of purpose from the day before. Bella sat on the floor and lost herself rewatching the few 'safe' DVDs she had lying around her apartment. They consisted of her favorite childhood cartoons and a handful of old movies. Halfway through Wuthering Heights she shut off the TV and leaned back against the base of the couch. What Catherine and Heathcliff shared was hardly love. It looked more like obsession. It turned her stomach even as it captured her imagination and wrenched tears from her eyes.
Wuthering Heights had been one of her mother's favorite movies. Merle Oberon was beautiful in her grief and desperation, but even more so in the gentle moments when her love for Heathcliff shone brightly. As repellent as their mutually destructive relationship had always been to her, Bella found herself drawing new parallels to her own life. The passion they shared was undiluted, bordering on madness. There was no longer room for 'self'. The thought of losing herself that way in another person rattled her. Is that what had happened with Edward? She knew she had never felt anything so soul-deep between herself and Mike.
So what did she feel for Mike? Once upon a time she had felt fondness, appreciation, gratitude and admiration. Was that love? Whatever it was, it was gone now. She was angry and hurt, regretful and betrayed, but he did not dominate her thoughts. There were reminders of him everywhere she went, but it was already getting easier to distract herself. If she could find another apartment it would be effortless. She couldn't wait to forget him. The truth was, it wasn't Mike's face that invaded her mind at every moment.
On the other hand, she felt so much Edward. Too much. She couldn't put it into words. His absence from her 'now', from her 'tomorrow', cut straight through her chest. Her heart beat out the want, the need, the ever present agony of loss. She couldn't take steps to eradicate him from her life, because wasn't there to begin with. Instead, she felt as if his essence was interwoven with hers. She had let him in, and now, through some strange alchemy, her heart was completely changed and only wanted him.
Bella reopened the box knowing that what she was doing didn't make any sense. Some people would even call it crazy. Her actions were impulsive. . . or maybe compulsory. The impetus did not come from within her. Or did it?
A few minutes later Bella took a step back and tilted her head to one side and then the other. The frame was straight, or so close that her untrained eye couldn't tell otherwise. Her bedroom walls were no longer completely bare. Above her bed hung the charcoal sketch Edward gave her.
He had called it imperfect. From her point of view it was flawless.
That was the first night she dreamed of Edward Masen. She relived scenes from her trip to Chicago in vivid detail, the sounds and images pounding insistently through her skull. His eyes, winking playfully as his lips turned up into a teasing smirk. His laughter, unrestrained and overflowing with life. His hands, large and strong as they twined with hers, curled around her hip, stroked down her back, tangled in her hair. . . His skin was hot against hers as he moved inside of her, drawing out the essence of her soul and setting it alight. . .
Bella sat up with a start, her body humming on the brink of orgasm.
The jolt of waking up scattered the embers before they could combust. Gasping and whimpering, desperate to reclaim her dream, she curled into a ball, trying to contain the heat. But it faded quickly, so quickly, and the ice returned. She wanted to slip back under, recapture the memory, but she was too wide awake.
Reality closed relentlessly around her. It was only a dream. Just a dream. Nothing more.
Bella ached from head to toe. She was sore in that burning scalp, itchy skin, tense muscles, stiff joints kind of way that comes from too many nights of poor sleep. After a scalding hot shower and a quick breakfast, she tried to put herself back into the mindset that had made Friday such a productive day. She was excited when she found a reply to her real estate inquiry in her email in-box. If she could get out of the apartment and see some new prospects, the future would look brighter. Or at least different.
Reading through the e-mail, Bella started feeling more hopeful. Laurent Deschamps was a Seattle based real estate agent who specialized in assisting first time home-buyers like her. He included links to his brokerage's home page, testimonials from several past clients and a list of all the apartments and houses he had listed or sold in the last five years. She pored through page after page of information, feeling more comfortable about the idea of buying. When her analytical mind was appeased, she grabbed her phone, deleted the missed alerts without looking at them and called his cell phone.
The man who answered had a soft, mellow voice with the barest hint of a French accent. She was impressed that he was ready with questions to hone in on her timeline, expectations and goals even though she had called him out of the blue early on a Sunday. He asked for permission to pass her information on to a loan specialist and set an appointment to meet in person the following afternoon .
When Bella hung up the phone she was almost smiling. She was pleased that she was taking a step forward. Laurent seemed like the perfect person to work with. In their 30-minute conversation, he had proven to her that he was calm, professional, thorough and capable. When a loan agent called less than 2 hours later to prequalify her and set a price range for her home search she was thrilled. It felt good to take charge. With only herself to consider, the future was so much simpler. If she could keep her thoughts away from Chicago, she could even make it into something great one day.
For the second night in a row, Bella awoke with her skin blistering and her insides on the verge of exploding. She stumbled from her bedroom to the kitchen and drowned the flames with cold wine straight from the bottle. She set the bottle back on the counter with a thump and pressed her hands flat on the cool surface until they stopped shaking. The dream had felt so real. She could taste him. Smell him. She considered taking the sketch down and packing it away. Its presence on her wall seemed like an invitation for memories of him to haunt her. Hanging it there was pure masochism.
As she considered pulling it off the wall, aftershocks of remembered pleasure rumbled deep in her stomach. No. She wasn't going to take the picture down. If she could she would hang a dozen more. Seeing and feeling him again was worth the pain of waking up alone. Bundled in a blanket with the remains of the riesling, in an actual wine glass this time, Bella curled up on her bed and waited for morning.
Bella filled her Monday with preparations for her return to work the following day. She planned her wardrobe for the week, polished the scuffs from her dress shoes, cleaned the dirt smudges from her coat and vacuumed out her car.
After lunch she showered, fixed her hair and dressed for her meeting with the Realtor. She arrived at his office a few minutes before the scheduled time and waited in the lobby, flipping through real estate magazines filled with designer homes and waterfront condos. If only she was shopping in the million dollar range instead of under $300K.
"Miss Swan?"
She turned around with a genuine smile. "It's Bella. Nice to meet you."
"Bella. Of course."
Laurent was a smooth in person as he was over the phone. He was also very handsome. His shiny black hair was braided in tight rows against his scalp and his eyes were a warm golden brown. His clothes were bold, but somehow perfect on him - tawny gold shirt with a black tie beneath a dark, rust-red suit. He towered over her at over six feet, but his demeanor was so friendly and open that he was not at all intimidating. He clasped her hand with both of his and dipped his head slightly in greeting.
"Come on back. I reserved a conference room so we can talk away from all the noise and commotion. Three of my coworkers are opening escrow tomorrow and everyone is going out of their minds. December is not normally this busy." His accent was even more apparent in person.
"Thanks. That sounds perfect. And thank you for meeting me on such short notice."
"Not at all. Not at all. It's my job, no?" He grinned at her, white teeth flashing against his coffee colored skin as he showed her into a small conference room with a rectangular table and four chairs. "I won't lie to you. If we're capped at three hundred thousand, that's going to really limit your options here in the city. Just remember, you're entering the market today, and in a few years you'll be more established, ready to trade up to something a little bigger, a little nicer. Maybe even sharing the expenses with a partner or spouse. A lot can happen in a few years."
Bella nodded agreement. A lot could happen in just a few days.
"So today, I'm hoping we can get to know each other a little. If I'm going to find the right home for you, and negotiate on your behalf, I want to make sure I know where you are and where you hope home ownership will take you. Also, I'm sure a driven young woman such as yourself wants to evaluate whether I'm the right agent to go to work for you."
"Absolutely. Although, you've already put my mind at ease on a lot of the biggest items. At this point, I'm most concerned about whether I can afford the monthly mortgage payments, PMI, maintenance fees and closing costs. It really seems like a lot of money when you add it all together."
"We'll talk about all of that in detail. You're actually in a fantastic position compared to many first time homebuyers. There are programs available to help you get into a home. If we can get the seller to cover closing costs, we could be looking at a 5% down which is much stronger than many of my past clients. How long have you worked with your current employer?"
"Since before I graduated from college. More than four years. Actually, my boss mentioned I might be looking at a raise, although I don't know what that's going to look like yet. We're talking tomorrow when I return to the office."
"Fantastic. We'll hold off on getting you preapproved until you meet with him, but until then, why don't you tell me a little bit about your lifestyle. Do you own a car? Do you want easy bus access? Do you plan to entertain? What amenities do you look for? Tell me whatever comes to mind."
Bella took a moment to gather her thoughts, then she began to speak. She didn't tell Laurent that she only wanted a stopping place to eat and sleep before returning to work. Instead, she tried to paint a normal picture - friends, weekend get-togethers, active evenings around town. It wasn't too difficult to fake it. She just imagined she was Alice.
He smiled and laughed in all the right places, asked her a few more questions and answered hers, jotting down notes in a crabbed, slanting script. By the end of their meeting, Bella was looking forward to meeting with Emmett the next day. If more responsibility and a pay raise would get her into her own condo instead of renting, she would gladly work 75 hours a week. She wondered, if she was too tired and busy to dream about Edward, would she miss him more? Or would she eventually forget him? If it came to a choice she would rather miss him for all eternity than forget him.
