Edward's been keeping his distance. He called Leah and cancelled future sessions. Not long after that, he left a voicemail on my office phone, simply saying, "I wanted to give you some space."
The days drag on and I keep myself busy with work. It's now been three weeks since I've seen or heard from him. It's weird, but I'm feeling unsettled about his continued silence. I can't exactly pinpoint what I'm feeling; hurt? Possibly, or maybe I just miss him.
It isn't like I can pick up the phone and just call him out of the blue.
Or can I?
"Don't do it, Bella." I chastise, but I keep thinking of contacting him.
"And say what? 'Hey, are you coming in for a therapy session?' This isn't good. I shake off these ridiculous thoughts and shut my office for the night.
Nights are the hardest. Things are easier during the day. Even though he's still on my mind, I can distract myself with work. My home is quiet, and I'm alone with nothing to do, but think of him.
I remember how gentle he was when he dried my hair and how my body reacted as his lips brushed my skin. I recall, as I stood there in front of that window anticipating his touch, thinking that he'd be rough, that the minute there was an opportunity, he'd rip the clothing from me impatiently. Part of me wishes that he had.
I wonder what kind of lover he'd be. I conjure up many scenarios. Visions of him wild and commanding cloud my brain; the type of man who doesn't make slow love twisted up in the sheets. No covers, just raw and uninhibited. He'd reveal himself totally; with not a hint of shyness.
Part of me is ashamed to have such thoughts.
Can he be gentle? Do I want him to be? Lord help me, I need to go to sleep.
I grab a pillow from beside me and wedge it in between my knees. I drift off to sleep, in a state of frustration.
.
.
.
It's Saturday, and I have a craving for lasagna. I don't expect to run into anyone I know, so I leave dressed in a yoga pants and t-shirt with my hair in a high ponytail. I drive to Gallenari's, my favorite Italian restaurant, to collect the order I'd phoned in.
"Hey, Bella." Enrico, the bartender greets me as soon as I approach the counter.
"Hey, Enrico. How are you?"
"I'm good." He frowns slightly. "Do you need a table?"
"God…no! I'm just here to pick up an order," I say, brushing my hair back. He laughs, knowing that he's embarrassed me.
"I'm just joking, Bella. Let me go and check on your order," He snickers.
The place, as usual, is crowded. Not surprising as this is a very popular restaurant, for good reason.
I notice a large family gathering at a table in the middle of the restaurant. Wait staff are walking to and from their table. It's obvious, from the attention they're receiving, that it's a special occasion. A waitress walks past me with an enormous cake colored red and blue in the shape of Spiderman topped with a lighted number '5' candle. I smile, thinking how surprised that little kid's going to be.
I lean against the counter to watch the outcome. The family and wait-staff all clap in time as they sing and loudly, finishing with a resounding, "Happy Birthday, Josh!"
I suddenly realize whom the celebration is for. I watch Edward lift him onto the chair to blow out the candle. The smile on Edward's face is so loving and happy, I can't help my lips curving upward as I watch the two of them together. A curly-haired blonde guy and a shorthaired brunette woman stand to help Josh blow out the candle, when he seems to be having difficulty.
"Trick candle", I quietly laugh.
"Your order will be ready in about five minutes, Bella. The chef asked me to apologize. There's a large family here that he had to prepare some special items for, and things got a little hectic in the kitchen."
"Oh…. it's alright. I understand." I wave dismissively. I pull out my phone to check if I have any messages.
"Hi." He whispers from behind me, causing me to jump slightly.
"Hi," I fiddle with my phone and don't turn in an attempt to hide my giddy feeling. "You saw me, huh?"
"Absolutely."
I turn around, mentally kicking myself for leaving home in my current state of dress. He's smirking at me, while sucking red and blue icing off his finger.
"Looks good.".
"It is." His eyes twinkle. "Want some?"
He thinks that I'm afraid to say yes.
I grab his wrist, pull his hand to my mouth and lick the icing from his finger. His eyes widen in shock. I must admit that I'm somewhat shocked at my action as well.
"Mmm, there's nothing like a good birthday cake."
"You can have a piece if you'd like. That kid will be in the dentist's chair for a week if we don't help him eat it."
I smile and shake my head. His face suddenly turns serious.
"I've wanted to see you, but…."
"You were giving me some space. I know. I got your message."
"Bella!" Enrico calls for me, and gestures to my order that's now bagged and sitting on the bar.
"I have to go. Tell Josh I say happy birthday."
"He'll enjoy seeing you. He asks about you often. You can come over and say hi."
"I think that would be…a little weird, don't you?
"Maybe a little." He mocks a scowl.
"Besides, it's his special day. Just tell him Bella says happy birthday," I turn to walk away, but he stops me.
"I'll enjoy seeing you."
"You've seen me." I respond cheekily.
He rolls his eyes. "I'll enjoy seeing you some more, for an extended length of time. That dinner invitation is still open."
I contemplate for a moment, sneaking another taste of icing off of his cake. He watches every motion as I bring my finger to my mouth and suck off the icing.
"A friendly dinner and no funny business." I warn, pointing at him. His smile broadens, and his eyes light up triumphantly.
.
.
.
This is insane. I think as I sit across from him at his dining room table.
Weeks have gone by, and he's been patient. He's not flirted, well not in the relentless, predatory way I'd come to experience while getting to know him. Mostly, he's been funny and charming, but he's never crossed the line or pressured me. I'm also surprised that he hasn't mentioned the night in Miami.
"Is there something wrong?"
"Hm?" I'm pulled from my thoughts to find him staring at me.
"You're chewing your thumb nail. What's wrong? You don't like your dinner?"
"Oh, sure. Dinner is delicious." I look down at my plate with a nervous chuckle. "You've impressed me with your cooking skills."
"I didn't cook this, unfortunately. All the credit goes to this little Italian restaurant in the city. The only thing I know how to make well is an omelet."
"That's pretty shocking. You look like the type who would know how to cook anything."
"I look like a type to you?" He sits back with a challenging smile. "What type do I look like? Do tell."
"You look like the type of man who's successful at everything."
"That's very vague and a nice copout." He doesn't press the issue.
We move into the living room after dinner and swap stories about college and medical school. I choose to turn the conversation to a more serious topic.
"How do you know James?" His facial expression changes instantly, and I know I've hit a nerve. He exhales with a huff, rises up from the couch and walks over to the bay window.
"I thought this was supposed to be a friendly dinner, us getting to know each other," he says with his back turned to me.
"I thought that is what we're doing."
"Well, James is no friend of mine, so that takes us out of the friendly zone."
I can't seem to control the therapist in me tonight. I recall the way he looked when he saw me with James. I also know that look wasn't all about me. Something created bad blood between them, and I'm very interested to know what it is.
"The subject of James is off limits," he says with finality.
The room falls into a deafening silence, and I'm not sure how to proceed. The only sensible thing seems for me to excuse myself for a few moments to allow both of us to regroup.
"May I use your bathroom?"
"Yes, of course…. it's upstairs. Make a left, walk to the end of the hall."
"Thanks."
I follow his directions and switch on the light. I look at myself in the mirror and wonder if I made a terrible mistake bringing up James.
I've seen a different side to Edward, or maybe I'm the one who's different. Maybe I'm changing along with him, and now I fear that by raising an obviously touchy subject, that I've inadvertently returned him to his closed off state.
I turn on the water and splash some on my face. I reach for one of the hand towels, neatly hanging from a towel ring. There's another door, on the opposite wall, slightly ajar. A light shines from the room beyond it.
I inwardly chastise myself about violating his privacy, but curiosity wins out. It's a simple, yet tastefully furnished bedroom. It doesn't look like the master bedroom, although there are pictures of his and Lauren's wedding sitting on the dresser. As I look around, I notice that the room is filled with neatly piled boxes. He's packing up his old life.
I walk over to the dresser when a picture of Josh catches my eye. I pick it up and smile. The resemblance between him and Edward is uncanny; they could be father and son.
I guiltily replace the photo and turn to leave the way I came, but I step on something hard and hear a cracking sound.
Oh, damn it!
I bend down see it's a disc, a digital disc simply labeled 'Angela'. A sickening feeling overwhelms me as realization sets in.
"Hey, is everything alright up there?" He calls from the hallway.
"Shit!" I panic and drop the disc. I try to exit quickly, but my heel gets caught on a rug. I lurch into the nightstand, just managing to avoid falling flat onto the floor.
"Bella?" He calls out, but I don't answer. I hear his voice again, but it's not him calling me from downstairs. I search for where the sound is coming from and my eyes settle on a camera sitting on a tripod in the far corner. I realize that I must have somehow triggered the remote.
Edward's velvet voice fills the room; I turn my head and let out a gasp of horrified shock. Images on the small screen comes into focus.
A blonde-haired woman moans and pants, while on all fours. The visual pans out to reveal the man behind her. And my eyes widen even more. He smoothly commands her to do what he wants. My face feels like it's on fire. I look back in embarrassed horror, he's staring back at me equally shocked and very obviously mortified.
He overcomes his inertia and grabs the remote and aims it in direction of the camera, killing the audio and video altogether.
"Um…. did you hurt yourself?" he asks, tersely.
"Um…. no, I'm fine. I…I just lost my balance and must've accidently pressed a button. I try swallowing the huge lump that's formed in my throat.
"Did you get lost or something? The bathroom's on the other side of the door."
I smile weakly and walk through into the bathroom. I whisper that I'll be out in a second, giving the impression that I hadn't already found the bathroom. He says he'll be downstairs. As I turn to shut the bathroom door, I see him bend down to retrieve the dropped disc from the floor.
I stare at my wide eyes and flushed face as I try to get my pounding heart ad chaotic thoughts under control. My discomfort peaks with every step I take down the hall, with every door I pass. I wonder how many other women he's brought here, and how many of those liaisons have ended up on a little disc with simply a first name as a record of their time with Edward Masen.
He's a womanizer, a newly separated one at that.
As if beacon on a dark night, I look into the open door of what is most assuredly the master bedroom. I stare at dark navy, blue satin sheets and again I wonder how many women he's taken on those sheets. Carnal images of him and those faceless women assault my mind. The thought of him with another woman makes me feel sick, and I feel even more distressed that I would care about it so much.
I hesitantly make my way down the stairs, trying to repress my overwhelming feeling of anxiety.
Perhaps its due to having once again witnessed him having sex with someone, or perhaps it's entirely due to my feelings of guilt and mortification for snooping around his house, taking advantage of our fledgling friendship and trust? Or could it be simply because I fear that I may never get past what I've come to know about him, that I may never be able to have something tangible with this man?
As I reach the curve in the stairs, I see Edward sitting at the dining room table. The lights have been dimmed, and his back is turned to me.
I approach tentatively.
"You're going to leave now, aren't you?"
He sounds distressed, and he's fiddling with something. He doesn't turn to me.
Despite my revulsion at what I've just seen and my feelings of self-preservation, his dejection and his rare vulnerability touches something in me.
"I can stay if you'd like me to," I say softly.
"After what you just saw, I can't believe you would want to."
I don't want him to know just how much I'm battling the need to run out of here. His demeanor concerns me, I can't just walk out on him in his current frame of mind.
I stop behind his chair, just close enough to see what he's toying with. It's a bottle of pills, and though I doubt that he's the type to do himself harm, my concern spikes.
"I never wanted you to see that." He shakes his head.
"It was a little…. surprising… uncomfortable, but I already knew about that part of your life and this time it was my fault."
"How's that?" He turns to look at me.
"I have a confession to make…. I didn't get lost looking for the bathroom. I was snooping around. I would never have seen it if I'd minded my own business."
"You were curious," he says emotionlessly.
"I overstepped…. I'm sorry."
He blinks at me.
"Will you say something? You're making me nervous."
"You were curious." He shrugs dismissively.
I choose to let the subject drop. I have so many other questions bouncing around my head; I wish I had the courage to ask them. I shift my focus to the situation in hand.
"What's that?" I gesture toward the bottle he's spinning on the table.
He stares at me intently for an interminable time.
"Rohypnol."