Well, I've been trying to leave this story, but I just don't think it's over... Here's more!

My eyes were on fire and I felt tears pooling into them as Jacob started throwing my things into bags. I was sure, but I was still hurting over all the memories.

"I'm sorry," I almost whispered.

His eyes shot back to me in disgust and I felt like melting into the floor.

"You've got to be kidding me," Jacob scoffed, venom in his voice waving me away with his hand like I was some sort of garbage.

"Rosalie, you're ridiculous. You're not sorry." He cleared the table with a sweep of his arm, the items clattering into the bag below.

I had just changed my mind. It had been four months since I'd left Jacob's and I hadn't even given him an explanation. He had a right to be angry. I didn't return any calls or texts. I was really sorry though.

"You're not just walking out on me; you're walking out on your entire life, Rosalie, and for what? A gut feeling?" Jacob was livid and his vicious voice was like claws tearing at my flesh. "So typical of you. I should've known. You just don't think things through. I just don't understand why you couldn't give me the decency of an explanation."

I tried to speak but I couldn't.

"You just can't see how bad he is for you through your rose-colored glasses. It's just positively absurd the way you act sometimes." He was talking to me like I was a child. I felt my hands ball into fists but I still couldn't find my voice. "You're not yourself anymore."

He stuffed more of my things into bags and I felt a tear spill over onto my cheek and an audible catch in my throat. Jacob looked back at me, sighing.

"I knew who he was before I even knew his name, Rosalie," Jacob's face was like stone as he melted into the floor, his knees at his chest and his elbows resting on his knees.

His voice was dark and rough.

"I knew by the way you looked at him." He let his head hang back to prop against the wall, his eyes closed.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, standing in the center of his apartment, totally exposed.

"I knew who we was by the way he looked at you too, Rosalie. You both looked like you were walking on glass to be close to each other. He was so careful with you, so calculated," Jacob squeezed his hands on either side of his temples, frustrated.

"I know he's got something to do with how messed up you were in the beginning. I think of how bad you were your freshman year, and I think you're making a huge mistake. I think about how afraid you were when I'd touch you, how you'd wake up from nightmares what seemed like every night, how you'd never look in my eyes when we talked, how removed you were when I'd try to get you to open up and when I'd open up to you how you'd just shut down. I just can't imagine you with that guy. I can't believe you'd be so stupid. I mean look at yourself now, Rose you -" Jacob snarled getting up from the floor with intensity burning in his eyes.

"Don't talk that way," I cut him off and his eyes were ablaze with maddened rage.

"Rosalie, you're absolutely unbelievable," Jacob made his way closer, looking down on me and making me feel small. "Does he even know who you are? How does he feel about all you've done? You've told him everything, right? No one will accept you the way you are but me."

"Stop."

"I helped you. I picked you up. I made you okay." His voice was getting louder and louder.

I was fuming. I helped myself. I picked up the pieces. I made myself okay. It was me.

It. Was. Me.

"I never loved you." I said tightly. I know the words stung him more then my face stung when his hand made contact with my cheek.

But it still hurt.

I saw my reflection in the silver napkin holder of Alec's Diner and had to look away, right back into my coffee. The diner was empty except for our booth and a couple of men at the bar chatting with the waitress. Rain was streaming down the windows like sad confetti.

"When does Emmett get back from D.C.?" Vera asked, flinching as I took the napkin filled with ice from my eye. I had given her my cell phone to screen the calls and texts from Jacob and I saw her slide notifications away every few minutes.

"Tomorrow morning," I sighed. "There's no hiding it."

"I have really good stage makeup," Vera suggested, examining the bruises hiding conspicuously under my mascara stained face.

"He's living with us, Vera. You know he's going to see it," I mumbled.

"What's Emmett going to say?"

"I don't know," I breathed. "He doesn't need anything else to worry him. I mean, Jacob is so sorry. He apologized a million times. He was so upset at himself…" I stirred my coffee nervously, my heart breaking with every cling of the spoon.

"This isn't like him," Vera ate a bite of a scone, looking away from me.

I could tell she felt awkwardly placed after this whole thing, and always made up a lame lie to tell me regarding where she was when she would come back from seeing him. "It's still wrong, but it isn't like him."

"I know."

"He's just… Jacob has loved you all this time and he knows for once this isn't just another guy that temporarily has your attention. He knows you're not coming back."

I nodded, tears pooling in my eyes. Even if I never loved Jacob in that way, I still loved him in a way.

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way Rosalie, but aren't you and Emmett both supposed to be happier, now?" Vera was not one to tiptoe with her words and this ripped a wound in my vulnerable chest.

"We… we are."

"No you're not." Vera shook her head. "You used to own this city, Rose. Even in a city this big, you had a reputation. You were living the dream."

I smiled weakly. I did.

"I… You know things are different now," I breathed.

"Yeah. Things are different all right. Your eyes always have dark circles under them. You rarely smile. You're not painting like you used to. Your paintings are all tortured and dark. He's smoking like crazy and is pretty much dead in the eyes. He's making up more and more excuses to stay gone and for God's sake Rosalie, he falls asleep on the couch and he thinks it's fine he's not in bed with you. It's obvious something's wrong."

Our relationship worked in theory, but we were madly out of balance.

Emmett and I were living in bliss, magic, and fireworks after New Year's Eve because we got snowed in at my apartment alone. Vera stayed with Jacob, and Edward's plane had landed in just enough time to surprise Bella at The Plaza. Every moment was just like out of the movies. Nothing could touch us for around a week. Every second was pure ecstasy.

We lay in bed and talked for days, catching up on the most mundane details of our lives. We learned so much about each other, mentally, emotionally and well… physically. Being with him was so natural, and it was an intimacy I'd never experienced before. I felt like my body was made to be his, and his to be mine. He made me feel treasured, safe, and even loved. That was definitely not something I'd experienced before, and it was otherworldly. It was earth-shatteringly beautiful. It was indeed a long-time coming.

We were closer than we'd ever been, and we were both optimistic. I could see this lasting forever. I didn't want anyone else. He was it for me. I loved him and I'd always loved him so it only made sense. I had made my decision. I wanted to be his and I wanted him to be mine. And, I think he felt the same.

Then, the snow stopped and life hit us like a plow.

Emmett's dad died unexpectedly in a car accident that also left Alice with a broken arm, a fracture in her spine, a couple broken ribs and a bad concussion. He rushed back to Washington to be with his family immediately after our week together. This was too close to home for me and I thought a lot about my mom while Emmett was away. I talked to Vera about it, the first person in New York that knew about her.

I thought about how I didn't go to be with my family when my mom died and it gave me a pit in my stomach. I didn't go to her funeral. I wasn't strong enough, so I booked a trip to Paris with the excuse that I had art to show. Was I so cold that I couldn't even care? I don't really think I even cried. The phone call where my dad told me my mom was dead was only two minutes and thirty-four seconds long.

Emmett called me right before his flight back after his dad's funeral, but he told me his baby sister Jane was taking it pretty hard and had tried to kill herself, so no one was leaving; he stayed for longer than he thought. He was gone a little over a month and when he came back, he came back a shell of himself. He never smiled, never laughed, never cried, never talked, never wanted to talk. His eyes were glassed over and he was constantly tired. He wasn't the same after his dad's death. Who really is after they lose a parent?

To add to it, I found out I was pregnant the day before Emmett came back to New York. I was in a street corner pharmacy bathroom and I was eleven days late. Vera and I were exhausted from a wild night before, last night's makeup on our faces when Vera practically forced me to take a test. It wasn't the first time a little scare had happened, but for the first time Vera and I were both silent walking into the pharmacy. I still had glitter in my hair and reeked of whiskey. I could see the expression on the man at the checkout counter when I pushed the box over to him. I could see the old lady behind me raising an eyebrow, judging. I could see in my own best friend's eyes how unprepared she thought I was for this. I don't know if I was upset when I saw the 4 positives in a row to be honest, but I was shaken. I was afraid and confused, but my eyes lingered every time I saw a stroller in the street.

We were always so careful… except once.

I had already decided to keep it, no matter what his role would be. I imagined a future with him so many times before, but this restart was so different and we were on far different terms than we were when we were just naïve high school students. I wondered if he'd want to stay. I wondered if he wanted this… I wondered if he wanted this with me. I was still confident in our relationship until he came back from Washington a completely different person who wouldn't even look at me...

I was going to tell him, but he was still so upset about his dad and he was acting so different. We never found the time to spend together because he was playing catch up at school or falling asleep on the couch with books in his lap. I tried to tell him. I really did.

I ended up not having to tell him that I was pregnant because I wasn't much longer. I lost the baby one night while I was sleeping alone and he was staying "in the library."

It changed me forever. And he would never mourn with me.

Vera heard me crying the night I lost our baby. She was speechless as she helped me undress in my catatonic state and get the bright red blood out of the white sheets before Emmett got home the next evening. She didn't say a word. She sat in the shower holding me, letting the water beat on my back and run over my tangled, wet hair as I stared at the tile with my arms wrapped around my aching stomach. She took me to the doctor the next afternoon.

They said at 11 weeks it would be fine to let my body betray me naturally if I didn't want to have any of the procedures they recommended. It would just take time.

Vera thought it would be a good idea for us to go away for a little while, so we joined one of the older married men she was sleeping with for decadent presents and adoration at his house in the Hamptons for a few days. He didn't ask questions because Vera told him not to, but I remember taking long showers in the guest room, staring at the blood washing down the drain. He bought me a diamond bracelet and shot plenty of pity looks over wine that cost more than my monthly power bill.

Emmett didn't ask questions either. He just half-smiled and nodded when we told him we were spending the weekend away. He wouldn't have noticed anyway.

I was now empty. I was now cold.

Emmett's beautiful eyes that I loved so much were now colorless and always had dark circles around them. His dimples rarely showed, because he was never smiling. He was expressionless and always left without a word whenever something I'd say or do would grind on his nerves.

He seemed to always have a cigarette in his mouth, even with a patch on his arm because he was supposed to be quitting. He'd just in the last couple weeks picked up about a million nervous habits that annoyed me to my wits end especially when I was trying to paint, but I never said a word.

Everything was just… hard. He didn't want to talk or laugh or go anywhere with me, and I still couldn't be with him physically not that he ever acted like he wanted to. We were both trying, it was just we weren't fitting together.

Even though I had an art studio just a 15-minute walk away, I still liked to paint at home sometimes and found myself oppressed by his piles of textbooks and binders of notes now. He found himself distracted so he couldn't work in our apartment because he always felt he was amidst artistic chaos, and in the company of my creations.

I remember one of the only fights we've ever had was over a painting he accidentally uncovered while he was looking for his Torts book one morning. It was of him, well rather his back, in our bed. The colors were all greys and blacks and the dimension I'd worked so hard to achieve made him look miles away, underneath disheveled sheets that looked like the sea. Oceans between us.

I watched his stone eyes searching. I remember the chill that went down my spine.

'Why did you do this, Rosalie?' he asked with a ghostly breathiness, as if I'd betrayed him in the most evil of ways.

I melted down and responded fervently - wanting to fight, wanting to talk. I wanted so desperately for him to fight with me because that meant he was feeling something, but he just picked up his book and walked out the front door without a word.

Our schedules were opposite and we were never in the same place at the same time; when we were, we got lost in small talk or something we did annoyed the other person and they made an excuse to leave. I even tried telling him soberly that I loved him a few times, but it never received more than a half-smile and a removed kiss on the cheek.

"Vera, I don't know what to do," I admitted in a hollow tone.

"It's obvious you love each other; you're just totally different people," Vera reached across the table grabbing my hands intensely.

I knew that. I've always known that. It had come full circle. We were still the art freak and the popular guy. We would never intersect.

I tried to speak, but all that came out was a cry. I broke down for the first time in a long time, sobbing pathetically. The dam holding back the river broke violently.

"I know, I know," she said scooting in my side of the booth and wrapping her arms around me. She wasn't used to me crying, and you could hear surprise and panic in her tone. "You just need to talk about it together, work some stuff out."

"I just didn't think it would be this hard," I sobbed like some sort of an irrational child and the waitress came to refill my coffee and hand me a bag with some ice in it without a word. I curled up and laid my head on Vera's shoulder.

"Rosalie, a lot has happened in four months," Vera said and I sat up to sip my coffee with a sniffle. "I mean… A lot has changed. Circumstances have changed. You have changed. He's changed. You're not the same naïve kids that knew each other in high school, or even the people that met back up with each other on New Year's Eve."

"I know."

"Rose, if this is you in love could you please go back to your Carrie Bradshaw ways?" Vera squeezed my shoulder, trying to joke around.

"I'm in too deep, Vera." I chuckled darkly.

"He's just a guy, Rose. You're a strong, independent woman," Vera smiled.

"I know. I still am, but I... I think it's about time I tell you the whole story, just to help you understand, and well, I need to tell somebody."

"I'm all ears, love." Vera brushed my hair out of my eyes and I told her the whole story of Emmett and I.

She. Knew. Everything.

And, I was happy someone finally did.