It's been two weeks since the blow out with Bella's parents.

They haven't made contact, and I don't think Bella plans to either…as far as I'm concerned, the ball is in their court.

Bella's been trying so hard to move forward, put all the hurt behind her…but it's difficult.

Especially on nights like tonight where she think it's a good idea to pull out all the old scrapbooks and try to remember that her and Evan were happy together once.

Add in a couple of classes of wine, and she's a blubbering mess.

I go in to check on her as soon as I hear her.

I try to bet understanding about what she needs, because she's been amazing at understanding me.

She doesn't pry, she just wraps her arm around me and offers me what comfort she can when she sees that I need it.

Eventually I pry the book away from her, and lay her down in bed.

I stay with her, holding her and telling her that things will get easier with time, hoping that my words will be true for her some day soon.

I'm not sure when I drift off, but when I wake up…I feel truly rested for the first time in a long time.

And that's when I realize…that Bella is still wrapped in my arms…that I stayed with her the entire night, holding her as we both slept.

Looking at her as she sleeps, I can see the way there is an inexplicable peacefulness to her, as if she's never been touched by the tragedy or heartache that have become her life.

I don't want to wake her, and so I just lay there, watching her sleep.

It's as I watch her that I realize how easily I could get used to this…but reality is a sobering thing. I know this is something that I can't, and shouldn't get used to, because the reality of Bella and I…of us being together, is nothing more than just a dream.