I sleep in Edward's bed for three days after he leaves.

It smells like him for the first two nights, but then the scent disappears, and my heart hurts all over again. Maybe it's pathetic. Depressing. Sleeping in his bed doesn't make me feel better, but I want to feel close to him, even if only for a little while longer.

I replay the conversation we had the morning he left over and over again. My tears turn bitter when I realize he might've lied for a second time. He said he never doubted us, but that wasn't true, was it? If he didn't doubt us, then he would've told me about what happened with Kate; he would've trusted us enough to know we'd get through it, yet he didn't.

But maybe it wasn't us that he doubted. Maybe it was just me.

One thing I find that does make me feel a bit better is drafting emails to him, without the intention of sending them.

They start off angry. It's irrational, but I'm mad he left. I knew it was coming—I had months to prepare—but having him actually leaving hurts. I accuse him of lying, accuse him of doubting us. I ask how the hell I'm not supposed to be skeptical when he could barely do the same? Just because he's better than me at hiding his apprehension, doesn't make him right or healthy or whole. At least I wasn't the one who fucking left. At least I wasn't the one who hurt him.

But I did, didn't I? God, I hurt him. I hurt us both—and for what?

It isn't until my third email that I start to feel remorse.

I tell him I'm so fucking sorry. That I should've started this journey of sorting through my trauma years ago because maybe then I'd know how to be in a healthy relationship, and we could have avoided this separation. I write that he's the first person I've ever let myself love. Maybe it's because he has a way with me, maybe because he's patient. No one else really stuck around long enough to break down my walls, ultimately making me feel like I wasn't worth it. But he did, and I've never let anyone in that way before, ever. Not Charlie, not Renee, not any other friends—and he should know that. I tell him he was the best friend and lover and that I know how rare that combination is. If I ever get him back, I'll tell him every day. Because he deserves that—he deserves everything.

XXX

By the end of the third day, Emmett finally checks in on me.

"Okay. Enough of this shit," he says sternly, standing in Edward's doorway. "We got a new guy moving in next week, and I doubt he'll wanna live here with you stinkin' up the place."

If I weren't so offended, I'd appreciate his candor.

"I don't smell," I snip. But maybe I do. I've showered, but I haven't washed my hair, and I might still be wearing the shirt Edward wore on New Year's—the one I slept in. I glance around the room, noting the dirty plates and bowls stacked up on the floor, along with half-consumed mugs of tea. A bottle of wine. Bags of Pirate's Booty. I could never be one of those people who stops eating when they're upset. If anything, I eat more. But I'm getting off-track, and Em's right, even if he hasn't said it outright—it's a little depressing in here.

He snaps his fingers. "Bella?"

"What?"

"Buck up, Buttercup."

"Go away, Emmett." I find a used tissue in the bed and blow my nose.

"Gross."

I ball it up and throw it at him and miss. "Seriously. I'm not in the mood."

He sighs and walks across the room to sit at the foot of the bed. "I don't give a crap if you're not in the mood. You need to get it together."

"I know, that's what I'm doing. I'm trying."

"No, you're not." He gives me a very pointed look, one that lets me know he does not believe me whatsoever.

"Yes, I am," I argue. "This is me trying." I thrust my phone in his face, showing him all the unsent drafts I've written to Edward. "I'm working through shit. See? Admitting I know I fucked up is step one. Or whatever."

His eyes scan the phone, maybe reading bits and pieces of what I've written. "Sure, okay. It's easy to say sorry. But why are you apologizing? Why did you end it?"

"Because… because I didn't trust him."

"Why not?"

I chew on my lip. "Because he lied?"

"I want the real reason. His lying was just an excuse, and you know it."

"I just—" I cover my face with Edward's pillow.

Em pulls it off, tossing it on the floor. "Wanna know what I think?"

"Not really."

"You knew he was leaving," he says anyway. "But that didn't mean he was leaving you, ya freak."

"Gee, thanks."

"Well, what? You're an idiot, but we all still love ya. You probably thought if you left him first, in a way, that it wouldn't feel like you were being abandoned. Am I right, or am I right?"

"You're…" Right. Fuck. It's true. Because of Renee I've always felt second-best, always felt like anyone I loved would eventually leave me. Despite things being so fucking good with Edward during those first few months, him accepting the job in LA threw me off kilter. That doesn't mean if he stayed in Seattle everything would've been perfect. Things could've still gone sideways with us. Regardless, his moving was a test, and I fucking failed.

"Say it, Bella. Out loud," Emmett prompts. "I'm what…?"

It takes a lot for me, but I say, "You're right."

His smile is triumphant. "Good. Now that that's out of the way, you can start trying to fix the shit you broke."

"Hold up," I say. "Where were you with this insight months ago?"

"I dunno. I got my own shit to work on. I also thought you'd figure it out. But you can't keep dwelling on the bad stuff," he says, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Now for part two."

"What is that?" I ask, leaning over to see for myself. He pulls it away, lifting an arm in the air, out of my reach.

"I made notes so I wouldn't forget what I need to address with you."

I almost laugh. "Who are you, and what have you done with Emmett?"

"Don't change the subject," he says, somewhat amused. "Pretend Edward didn't lie or whatever. What if he went to LA, and you two actually stayed together, and nothing bad happened. What if everything with him turned out to be… fine?" he says, raising his eyebrows ominously. "What then?"

"I don't know."

"Try giving me a real answer."

I think about it; really think about it. I picture us being fine for the first couple of months, but then imagine him working late… forgetting to call. Cancelling weekend plans to Seattle because he has to finish a big project. Eventually he's so busy and I'm so resentful, I break up with him after a nasty fight instead of voicing why I'm hurt.

"Fine. If we stayed together and he still moved, I'd probably do something to fuck it up. Chaos is kinda what I'm used to." I glare. "Are you happy now?"

"Right. Okay. But now that you recognize that, can you try not fucking it up in the future?

"Sure, but I don't even know if Edward will want to be with me again. I finally pushed him far enough away, and now he's gone. And… if he doesn't wait, well. Can I blame him?"

Emmett actually laughs. "Edward isn't going anywhere."

"Spoiler alert: he moved to LA. He went somewhere."

"You know what I mean. If you showed up on his doorstep tomorrow, he would be ecstatic."

"Doubtful. I tried getting back with him the morning he left, and he shut it down."

"Even you're not that stupid," he says. "That reeks of manipulation, and you know it."

"I was sad, Emmett."

"Or desperate."

I refrain from flipping him off. "Okay, so say we got back together. How do I know I won't eventually fuck it up again? How do I know he won't lie?"

"You don't know. No one does," he replies easily. "No one has all the answers. You just gotta go for it. Yes, he lied. And yes, that was shitty. But… it sounds to me like he only did that because he loves you."

I groan loudly. "I hate that, though. I hate being told someone did something that hurt me out of love. It's not fair."

"Life isn't fair."

"Isn't that cliched?"

"Sure, but it's true."

"So my mom leaving me was in my best interest? She hurt me because she loves me so much, and I'm supposed to just accept that?"

"Dude."

"What?"

"Edward and your mom are completely different people." He says it so simply that I feel stupid for not realizing it myself. "You can't compare what happened with her to what happened with him. That's your first problem. I'm not saying your mom doesn't love you, but… I also can't defend how she's treated you. I can defend Edward, though."

"Of course you're defending him—he's your friend."

"You were my friend first," he reminds me. "And I know about all the shitty things your mom did. Have you told him any of it?"

I pick at the skin around my thumbnail. "Some."

"Maybe if you were more open about all of that, he'd understand a little more."

I appreciate Emmett so much at this moment. And it's weird, after so many heart-to-hearts with people about this exact problem, none of their advice struck a chord with me the way Emmett's does. I'm grateful for this new perspective, recognizing that I might've rejected Edward before he could potentially reject me. I'm definitely gonna explore that more with Emily this week.

As much as Em's words resonate, that doesn't mean I can't still give him shit.

"Where did you get all this insight from? Are you high?"

He has to think about this for a second. "No. In fact, I haven't really smoked in a while. Haven't wanted to."

This is news to me. "What?"

He shrugs. "I dunno. Being with Rose feels good. Not saying I don't smoke every now and then, but I have different priorities. No more waking and baking. No more billow then pillow."

"No more Sativa Sunrise?" I ask, gaping. Don't be fooled—it actually took place at noon.

"Nah."

"Oh, my God," I mutter, dropping my head in my hands.

"What?"

Lifting my head, I give him a look. "The fuck is this? Emmett McCarty has his life together, and I don't?"

His face brightens. "Holy shit. You're right."

At this realization, laughter bubbles out of me. Em laughs along with me, boisterous and the slightest bit infectious which keeps the moment going until I have tears in my eyes. When our laughter eventually dies down and I feel the tiniest bit lighter.

"You think Edward completely hates me?" I ask quietly.

"Nah. He wouldn't leave you this if he hated you." Emmett pulls a folded envelope out of his back pocket.

"What's this?"

"Part three."

I shove his chest in surprise."Emmett! Why didn't you give this to me days ago?"

He holds it out but doesn't let go when I tug on it. "Because I was given strict instructions to tell you not to open it until you're ready."

"What?"

"Seriously. I'm gonna need you to swear on it, freak. Don't open it until you're ready."

"Ready for what?"

"I didn't ask questions. That's just what I was told."

I groan, curiosity thoroughly piqued. But I agree and grab the envelope. I stare at Edward's scrawl, fingers tracing over my name on the front.

"So?" he prompts. "What are you gonna do?"

"Other than not open this right the fuck now?"

"Yes."

My mind races a hundred miles a minute. I think of Edward, already in LA, living his life, moving on. It bums me out, but I know it's for the best. Right here and now, I tell myself I won't reach out to him until I'm sure. I won't text or call or stalk him on social media until I feel healthy and whole. Because the last thing I want to do is seek him out prematurely, and fuck things up all over again. The last thing I want is to lose any chance I have at getting him back. I refuse to let myself completely lose the best thing, the best friend, the best love of my life. But if that has already happened, I also need to accept that.

"I'm gonna get my shit together," I say carefully. "Really get it together. No more excuses. And hopefully, eventually… I'll get Edward back."

Em gently bumps my shoulder with his fist. "Atta girl. Can you shower, first? It fucking reeks in here."

Next update will be Friday or Saturday! My nerves with this story are starting to ease up, so thank y'all for that! Appreciate all the love. :')

Hadley is the best support!