53. FLIP
At the age of eight, Bella broke her wrist after a flip on the monkey bars at school. Though the pain was excruciating, she'd been stoic all through the x-rays and the setting, the consultation and the discharge. The doctor told her that breaks like that healed over quickly, made the joint stronger than ever.
But the heart isn't a bone. While there may be a scab forming over the membranes of her pain, it's easily breached. She protects it as nobody else can. Wears a breast shield of resoluteness to ward off any wounds.
"Are you sure you're up to this?" Since Christmas Eve, Jasper's been her protector. He and Maria managed to coax the whole, sordid tale from her. Treated her as the child they'd never had—holding her while she cried, insisting she eat when she didn't feel the slightest bit hungry.
"I need the closure."
Jasper leads Bella down the hallway of his cottage, out into a glass room that must be beautiful in summer. Even in winter, it's lit up with tiny lamps, all sparkling from the ceiling. "He's in there."
She pauses for a moment before walking through the door. Takes a deep breath, tries to picture what's behind it. Will he still be broken, mourning his wife? Could she bear it if he was?
The door sticks when she pushes at it; the wood ill-fitting from years of humid summers and ice-cold winters. When it finally loosens from the frame, the force slams it against the wall. The crash makes her jump.
Then he's there. Not the monster of her nightmares, or the angel of her dreams. It's Edward, her Edward—the one who carried her in when she'd forgotten how to live. He's staring at her with that expression on his face—the one she thought meant love.
Except the love was never meant for her.
"Bella. Thank you for seeing me." He keeps his distance. She wonders how much Jasper's told him. "It's more than I expected."
Her legs shake when she walks toward the nearest chair. She sits down before she falls. "I need to hear the truth."
"I want to give it to you. And I promise, once I do, I'll be out of your life. I've resigned from my position. I'm leaving, at least for a while. I don't want to cause you any more pain. I'm so very, very sorry." He runs a shaking hand through his hair.
"You've already caused me pain, the minute you lied to me. You should've told me you only wanted me because I looked like her. The woman you loved."
His jaw drops, mouth opens, then he leans forward as if to grab her hand. When he stops himself, pulls back, she almost feels disappointed.
"That's not true. I promise you that. I never slept with you because you looked like her. Never fell in love with you for that reason."
When she finally meets his gaze, she can see his sincerity. It touches her enough to make her heart flip. "No?"
Slowly, he shakes his head. "No. I'm not going to lie to you, there's a strong resemblance. That's why I noticed you in the lecture theater. But I wasn't looking for a replacement for Maggie. I never would." He takes a deep breath. Plays nervously with his fingers. "I didn't love my wife, Bella. I hated her."
She can't tear her eyes away from him. He's staring right back, his eyes glinting beneath the ceiling lights, chest rising and falling rapidly. For some reason, his revelation makes her want to smile, to laugh, to celebrate. It makes her feel light when she should be on the ground.
So finally, finally, she brings herself to ask the one thing they've both been avoiding for weeks.
"Tell me about your wife."
