The face of my therapist, Emily, is oddly neutral for having just told her Edward and I almost had sex on Christmas. I guess almost isn't necessarily true. But I was topless. And I wanted so badly to be with him, so I tell her as much.
I don't understand how she doesn't react. No matter what I say, she sits stoically, listening. Not responding, at least not negatively. I wish I could be more like her in that way.
Emily knows all about my past and how it's been affecting my future. She knows about Renee, mostly, and she knows everything about Edward. My story with him is easy to tell. Renee's is harder, and allowing myself to open up about her takes a lot out of me emotionally.
When she asks if I stopped the intimacy with Edward, I tell her that he did. I admit I would've let it progress, let him fuck me on the couch. I don't say it as crassly, but the sentiment remains.
She suggests there is comfort with Edward, and it's going back to what I know. She thinks I'm seeking some semblance of normalcy, even grasping for it because of his impending move. She reminds me that resorting to being sexual before my issues have been sufficiently dealt with, won't do either of us any good.
Near the end of our session, she tells me that giving in to old patterns doesn't serve me. In the same breath, she reminds me it's going to happen, over and over again. I'll slip up, make mistakes. Not with Edward—because nothing with him has been a mistake—but in other aspects of my life. She says I need to be gentle with myself. Breaking old habits is hard, and retraining my brain to stop assuming the worst will happen and that everyone is out to hurt me is going to take time.
"How long we talkin'?" I ask, trying to bring some sort of humor to this intense conversation.
"Longer than five sessions." Her smile is genuine. "I'll see you next week."
XXX
The day of Edward's going-away party also happens to be New Year's Eve.
Rose and I get ready for his party together. She's better at this stuff than I am, and I'm thankful to have her around. She offers to curl my hair so it's wavy and brings over a black dress she thought would look good on me. She was right—it does, but it's a little more revealing than I'd like, so I make a note to keep my black moto jacket on all night.
She's kneeling above me while I sit in front of my full-length mirror, hair wrapped around the wand.
"—and I'm ready, but I don't know if it just seems too soon?"
"What?" I ask, zoning back in.
"Em's gonna meet my parents."
"Oh."
"You've been kind of quiet," she says, and I find her eyes in the mirror. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, why?"
A small, concerned smile plays on her lips. "Your loverboy is leaving tomorrow. That's why."
"Ha, ha." My gaze lowers, and I focus on a stack of eyeshadow.
"You're really sticking to your guns, huh?"
I look at her again. "What do you mean?"
"I thought you would've gotten back with him. We all did."
"It's complicated," I mumble, watching her grab another section of hair.
"So you like torturing yourself." I give her a pointed look. "Whatever, he lied. But was it really that bad? He's not malicious."
"I understand that. But do you know what it's like to be lied to most of your life?"
"No. But, if that has happened to you, shouldn't you be used to it?"
I know she means well, but, "That's not how it works, Rose."
"I figured. I thought it was worth a shot though," she replies, sighing.
The subject is dropped, and soon enough, she's done with my hair. She tousles it, basically undoing everything she did, and spritzes textured spray through the strands to keep it in place. My hair has never looked better, and with the makeup she's added to make my eyes pop, I'd say I look pretty decent.
When we're done getting ready, she gathers her stuff, and I clean up a little around my room. It's been a little chaotic with my work schedule and Christmas and being sick, and I kinda let my room go to shit. When I move a pile of clothes from the floor to my bed to sort through, I find one of Edward's shirts. I pause and debate whether or not to give it back to him. In the end, I shove it in my drawer, keeping it for myself. Not every piece of him has to leave Seattle.
When it's almost seven and time to head out for the party, I find only Edward downstairs waiting for me. He's wearing dark jeans, his new boots with a white T-shirt, and a thin navy bomber jacket.
In other words, he looks fucking good. A bit tired, but good.
"Where is everybody?" I ask, pushing my hair back so I can put my gold hoops in.
"Apparently they're gonna meet us there."
It feels purposeful on their part, but I don't question it. "Got it."
"You look… " He pauses, eyes sweeping over my body.
"Too much?" I ask, suddenly nervous that Rose overdid it.
"No. You look beautiful."
I hold his gaze. "Thank you."
He points at my shoes. "Aren't those a little tall, though?"
"The heel is chunky—I'll be fine."
"Okay." He grabs his beanie, looking at me in warning. "I'm not gonna carry you like I did last New Year's."
"I'm not asking you to." I have a snippy tone when I say it, but only because thoughts of being flirty and fun last year fill my mind. We didn't kiss at midnight, but part of me had hoped. Apparently a lot of things can change in just one year.
"You ready?" he asks, shoving the mess of his hair under the beanie.
"Yep."
The drive to the restaurant is quiet. It's not completely uncomfortable, though. He messes with the radio but shuts it off when nothing good is playing.
"What time do you fly out?" I ask. I remember, of course I fucking do. I just want something to talk about with him. But maybe his departure isn't the best topic for my heart.
"Flight's at ten in the morning."
"Yikes."
He keeps his eyes on the road. "I know."
I clear my throat, starting at his profile. "Thanks for driving." When he glances over at me, I don't pull my eyes away from him. "Wait, what are you gonna do with your car?"
He shrugs, eyes back on the road. "My parents are gonna take it. Probably sell it. I don't know."
"You don't need it?"
"I mean, I'll probably just end up getting another." Looking over his shoulder, he switches lanes. "This beat-up old thing doesn't really need to be seen in LA."
"Your glitzy new life requires a glitzy new car," I muse. I sound more bitter than I intended.
"You want it?" he asks, after a beat.
"What, your car?"
"Yeah, I dunno. Save my parents the hassle of having to get rid of it."
"You're just gonna give me your car?" I ask, shocked.
"It's not necessarily a nice vehicle," he laughs. "But it's reliable, and it's paid off."
I'm still confused. "You're getting a new car to have in LA for one year?"
He falls quiet, and it's long enough for me to wonder why but not long enough to actually ask.
"Yeah. Well. The car's yours if you want it. I'll tell my parents, and they can figure out transferring the title and whatnot."
"Okay. Sure," I say, drawing out the word, still slightly confused. "Thank you."
"You got it." He nods, gently pounding the steering wheel twice with his fist. "You'll be in good hands."
"I know."
"I was talking to the car."
He glances over with a small, sweet smirk, and I can't help but mirror it in return.
XXX
The Cullens spare no expense for their son's going-away party. They rent out the back bar at Bastille, a bougie but relaxed French restaurant. The space is dim, intimate. There's a chandelier that glows above us, a deep mahogany bar that's backlit with an amber hue, and tables of different height spread throughout, so everyone can mix and mingle without feeling too forced or fancy.
There's easily sixty guests or more here, ranging from both sides of Edward's family, his buddies from high school and college, and the family friends he grew up with. Needless to say, he's the man of the hour, and I hardly see him the entire night.
The cocktails are small but strong, and I find myself getting a little toasted early on. The hors d'oeuvres circling around the room are delicious but not very filling. Every time a server walks past me with a tray of food, I happily oblige even if I can't quite tell what I'm eating. Emmett follows suit but nearly spits his food out when he eats chicken liver pate on a cracker.
"Hey there, kiddo."
I turn to see Carlisle standing next to me. He's wearing a red sweater and the warmest smile as he hands me a cocktail.
"Can't have you empty-handed," he teases.
"Thank you," I say, and we raise our glasses in a toast. "This is good."
"It's a French 75."
"Vodka?"
"Gin and champagne."
"I'm terrible at mixing my liquors. Already had tequila and vodka tonight. Woof."
"I won't tell anyone." Carlisle winks. "We missed ya at Christmas. You feeling better?"
"Sure." I sip the drink, letting it burn its way down to my stomach. "Actually, I wouldn't say I'm feeling much better."
Carlisle frowns. "No?"
Hesitating, I let the booze speak for me. "I haven't been the greatest friend to your son lately. We're… yeah. We haven't really hung out. Things are a little strange."
"I see."
I look away. "I'm sad he's leaving, so I've been kinda keeping my distance. Maybe it'll hurt less when he's gone, you know?"
"Out of sight, out of mind," Carlisle muses.
"Yeah."
"I never found that to ring true."
With another lengthy gulp of my cocktail, my eyes travel across the room to where Edward is standing. He's lost in conversation, laughing along with someone. I stare at his strong profile, how he talks animatedly with his hands. I don't realize I'm still watching until Carlisle clears his throat.
"So how's all that avoidance working out for you? 'Cause I gotta say, it's been killing my son."
I jerk my head in Carlisle's direction, regarding him carefully. His expression is gentle, like he knows everything.
"Edward told you about us?"
"It's been pretty obvious by his moping around and your sudden disappearance. I know the signs of a broken heart when I see one. I've just never actually seen him like this."
My eyes cast downward, staring into my glass. "I'm completely screwing things up, aren't I?"
"I'm not one to judge. You don't have to have everything figured out. But he's pretty adamant when he sets his sights on something… or someone." Carlisle bumps my shoulder with his, giving me a knowing look. "Just don't be too hard on him, will ya? He's got a sensitive heart, and he's pretty damn fond of you. I know leaving has been a difficult decision."
My smile is somber. "I care about him, too."
"Surely it can't be too difficult to figure out, then?"
"One would think. There are some… extenuating circumstances," I mumble vaguely. "I'm trying to work through some stuff."
"Well, I won't pry. You two will figure it out." Carlisle nods emphatically. "Looks like my son has spotted me and might be curious about what we're talking about, so I should skedaddle."
With a wink, Carlisle hugs me quickly before joining Em and Rose. I look over and see Edward across the room, walking toward me. Our eyes stay locked, but before he makes it to me, he's pulled into another conversation. I stand idly for a minute then finish off my drink and head outside, needing a breather.
It's cold out but not unbearable. I think that has more to do with my alcohol consumption, though.
A couple of people stumble out from the party, and from the sounds of it, are sufficiently drunk. A car pulls up, and I watch as they climb inside the Prius before it drives away. The restaurant door swings open again, but this time, Edward walks out.
"The man of the hour," I say lamely but offer a friendly smile.
"What are you doing out here, Swan? It's cold."
"Just wanted some air."
He stares down at me, sliding his hands into his pockets of his jacket. "I think some of us are gonna head down the street and grab a few more drinks. You in?"
"I could be."
He exhales, breath appearing with a puff. "Could be?"
"I'm kinda drunk. Your parents with the fucking open bar, man. Gets me every time."
"I mean, it's not like they forced you to drink," he pokes fun.
"Yeah, yeah."
He finally sits on the bench, closer than what could be considered friendly. I don't mind though because being near him feels so good and warm. It's quiet outside, but the hum of conversation spills out from the space behind us. I stare at the holiday decorations still strung along the street—lamp posts adorned with wreaths, nearby buildings still lit up with twinkling lights.
I turn my head to the side to stare at him. "I don't know if I'm gonna make it to midnight."
He gives me a long, unconvinced look. "Bullshit."
"Seriously. I might head out soon."
"The night is young, Bella."
"It's after ten."
"Sure, okay. Go home—leave me on my last night."
My gaze softens. "Laying it on a little thick, huh?"
He smiles, shrugging. "One more drink, then we can go home," he coaxes gently. "Stay with me."
His words are sweet, and so is the way he's gazing at me. And maybe the alcohol made him warm, or maybe I'm the one it softened. Maybe the reminder that tomorrow, we're parting ways for a year, is making us a little sentimental. He leans over a bit, shoulder brushing against mine. And this is why I was trying to leave early because I'm worried about what might happen if I drink anymore and stay near him. We always find a way to be around each other, like right now with him sitting so close and staring at my mouth. If he wanted to kiss me, he could. We're close enough, and I'd probably let him. But I know I shouldn't.
He lingers but doesn't make a move, eventually pulling his gaze from my lips.
"Well?"
"Okay, twist my arm. One more drink. Then home?" I ask.
I swear his eyes grow a shade darker. "That's the plan."
When he stands, he reaches over and tugs on my hands until I'm standing too. He guides me back inside, and we say goodnight to all the necessary people, his mom getting a little weepy with her goodbye even though she and Carlisle will drive him to the airport tomorrow morning.
Eventually a small group of us are ready to go, and we stumble up the street to our next destination. I don't frequent this area often, but one of Edward's classmates knows a good place that's nearby. When we walk in, it's pretty busy, but there's an empty area near the darts and pool table. We post up, a few people ordering pitches of beer for everyone to share.
I'm just finishing my beer when I see Ben standing across the bar with a small group of people. I don't go over to him because I'm drunk, and I know this might be weird. I definitely don't need to say something completely embarrassing to make showing up at work on Monday awkward. But then he spots me, smiles, and heads over.
"Hey!"
I smile. "Hi. How's it going?"
"Good, good. I've never seen you here before."
"That's because this is the bougie part of town," I tease.
He chuckles along with me. "My cover is blown. I'm a bougie bastard."
"As if you were pretending otherwise," I laugh. "Everyone already knows."
He tips his head in agreement. "So what's going on? Who you here with?"
"It's my roommate's going-away party. He's moving to LA tomorrow."
"The bingo guy?" he asks, and I assume he's referring to Em.
"The other one," I say. "The one I was… dating."
His eyebrows rise in understanding, but he doesn't push. "He's gonna love LA. It's great."
My lips press into an unconvincing smile. "I bet."
"You got something against LA?" I make a face but don't add another word. "I've actually been working with some farms in California recently."
I pretend to be intrigued. "Oh?"
"Yeah, there are a few who grow coffee bushes under the canopies of the old avocado trees. We're trying to lock some down to become roasting partners. It's still a ways away, but yeah, we could be opening a site in Cali."
"Like in LA?" I ask, genuinely intrigued now.
"Not necessarily. Maybe San Diego." He leans closer to my ear, voice quieter. "I should shut my mouth in case it falls through. Don't wanna jinx it."
I nod, snorting out a laugh. "Got it. So who are you with tonight?"
He points across the bar with his beer. "You know Paul from the office. His girlfriend's over there, too, and then just one of my buddies."
"Fun."
"Yeah. I think you'd like Claire—she has family in Forks. Isn't there where your dad is?"
"Yeah. I'm surprised you remember that. I'm also surprised that she has family there. It's such a small town."
"So I've heard." He smiles, eyes flitting past me. "You should come join us for a little bit. I'll buy you a drink."
"You don't have to do that," I laugh awkwardly.
"I know I don't have to, but I want to."
"I might actually be leaving soon." Glancing behind me, I don't see Edward nearby, but Rose and Em are still in the corner near the dartboard.
"You're younger than I am—aren't you supposed to be able to rally?" He breathes out a laugh. "One drink."
I shrug. "Okay."
I make my way over to their group, getting introduced to everyone. Ben buys another beer and orders the same for me. I join in on their conversation about The Mandalorian, but I can't really offer up much since I haven't seen it. Eventually Paul and his girlfriend excuse themselves to the bar, and his friend disappears to the bathroom, leaving Ben and I alone.
"How was Christmas?" he asks politely.
"Fine. I was sick. I'm glad to be going back to work Monday. Stay busy—you know the drill."
"More than I would like to," he laughs. "There's always some fire to put out. I kinda crave the chaos though. Hustling is good."
We hear a group of people grow rowdy with laughter and look over. I see Emmett, Rose, and a few of our other friends, playing an intense game of darts. But I still don't see Edward. I scan the area for a few seconds but still come up empty. I tune back in and realize Ben's speaking, but I'd completely missed what he said.
"Sorry, what?"
He smiles. "I was saying that you really saved my ass."
"How so?"
"We can go over the actual data when we get back to work, but we got the analytics from Instagram. I don't think I've ever seen our page receive so much traffic. You've really impressed me these last few months."
"The page just needed a little TLC. Anyone could've taken over and you'd probably have the same results," I laugh, downplaying his compliment. "Being consistent with content helps."
"I think it helps that you know what you're doing. And you're good at it, too." He takes a swig of beer. "Hate to break it to ya, but people like you."
His eyes linger on my face. This suddenly this feels more intimate than it should. He hasn't necessarily done or said nothing to make this weird or for me to think he's hitting on me. But the vibe changed, or maybe it was this way all along. Maybe I suck at picking up on things like that.
Paul and Claire make their way back over, alerting us it's almost midnight.
"I should head back over to my friends," I tell them, then look at Ben. "Thank you for the beer. And the conversation."
"Of course." He looks a bit surprised at my sudden departure, but he nods anyway. "I'll see you Monday."
I nod in return and make my way over to Emmett, tugging on his sleeve and completely throwing off his aim.
"You fucked me up," he complains, then tells Eric he gets a redo.
"Where's Edward?"
"I dunno. He left like, five minutes ago."
"What?" I glance around, not believing Em. "Did he go home?"
Em shrugs. "Yeah. Dude's drunk." He picks up another dart, then pokes fun at me, nodding in Ben's direction. "Hey, how was your date?"
"Shut up. He's my boss."
"Tell that to Edward. He's not happy about it."
"He shouldn't care. We're not together." Even after I mumble it, I know how fucked up it is.
"Promise me you're not gonna say that to him," Emmett chides. "That's the stupidest thing you could think, let alone say out loud."
I glare at Em, but deep down, I know the anger I feel is pointed at the wrong person. I'm mad at myself, really. I know I didn't actually do anything wrong. But if the situation was reversed, and Edward was off talking to someone I didn't know—someone I blatantly expressed feelings of jealousy over—I'd feel the exact same way. I'm not even sure if he knows it was Ben. But if he does, he's going to assume talking to him was purposeful, when in reality it wasn't. I would never blatantly want to hurt him.
Pulling out my phone, I call Edward, but he doesn't answer. I try a second time, but his phone goes straight to voicemail. His apparent avoidance makes my heart race, my palms sweat. I feel anxious, and more than a little sick. He's leaving in less than twelve hours and this is not how I imagined the night going.
"You're leaving?" Rose asks as I grab my purse.
"I'm going after him," I tell her, requesting an Uber before slipping my phone in my bag.
"Bella." She pauses, giving me a look. "Why?"
"What do you mean why?"
"Just… it's a little confusing, right? Chasing after him… kissing on Christmas…"
I blink. "He told you that?"
"No. He told Em."
I blow out a breath. "I'm not trying to be confusing or give him mixed signals." He's not really helping the situation, either. Giving me the sweetest handmade Christmas present, offering up his car. Sitting so close tonight, staring at my lips, begging me to stay a little longer. "It's not just me," I tell her. "Besides, I just want to make sure he's not mad. I can't let him leave like that."
"Okay." She hugs me then offers an unconvincing, "Be careful."
But I can hear what she's really saying. She's telling me to back off, to let him go. And to not fuck this up more than I potentially already have.
One last teeny tiny update before Monday. I'll be traveling all day so come at me with your thoughts!
Next update will actually be Monday.
Hadley helped last minute when I was like, "Yo, I'm splitting two chapters and updating early. You down?" So thankful for her!