Eeeeeeee. I'm excited for this one. Early update since I was able to knock out 2k of the epilogue so far. So I guess technically there are two more chapters after this... next update will be Tuesday.

So much love for Hadley! Now I just need to start a new story after this so she'll never leave me, lol.


It's after two in the afternoon when we arrive at the Santa Barbara Inn. It's on the waterfront, and the Spanish Mediterranean architecture is breathtaking. Ben, Maria, Paul, and I all get checked in, heading to our respective rooms to unpack and whatever else we need to do. We have plans to meet back in the lobby in an hour to visit the fulfillment center then head to an early dinner to go over our itinerary for the next few days.

When I make it up to my room, I leave my suitcase by the door and check everything out. There's a king-size bed, a large clawfoot tub which I will definitely take advantage of later, and an impressive view of the Pacific Ocean. The display of flowers on the desk is beautiful, but it's not until I'm close enough that I notice a card sticking out. My palms grow sweaty as I walk over, eyeing the dozen pale pink peonies. The skeptical—and annoyed—part of me assumes they're from Ben. But when I open the card, they're from Edward.

I know this doesn't make up for not being able to see you, but at least they look nice? I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. Love, Edward

My heart softens more than it already has since reading his letter last night. I lean over, inhaling them. God. I've never been a flower person, but there's something so fucking romantic about unexpectedly receiving them from someone you love.

I know he's a couple hours ahead in Chicago, so he's probably still at work, but I send him a quick text anyway.

Can you talk? I ask. I hang up some of my clothes in the closet and wash my face, hurriedly slapping on some moisturizer after I hear the chime of my phone.

I can for a minute, but I definitely have more time later tonight

Instead of replying, I call him, smiling when he answers right away.

"I got your apology flowers," I say instantly. "You didn't have to do that. But thank you. They're beautiful."

"I wanted to. And I am sorry."

"Don't be."

"You in Santa Barbara?"

"No," I tease. "I just assumed you sent flowers to my hotel and guessed correctly."

"Shit. Right," he laughs. "I'm sorry I haven't called the last couple of nights. I just… yeah. My head was in a weird place. I hope the flowers made up for that, too."

"In a weird place about us?"

"Like… feeling like I let you down. Again. I dunno."

I can hear the remorse in his voice, and it kills me. "Edward… no. This work trip to Chicago was out of your control. I would never hold that against you."

I hear some commotion in the background. "Can I call you tonight? I kinda have to go…"

"Yeah." I pause, whispering, "I read your letter."

He's quiet, then offers a softer: "You did?"

"Yes. It was perfect, Edward. It meant everything to me. I…" Can't even find the words to properly convey just how secure and loved it made me feel. "It was perfect," I say again.

He exhales, breath filling my ear. "Fuck, I miss you."

"Me too. Call me later."

"Okay." He hesitates. "Bella, I—" He stops himself, but I feel like I already know. I know what he wants to say, but he's worried. He shouldn't be, though, because I never stopped loving him. Not once.

My stomach flips, butterflies swarming around and creating the best nerves. "Me too," I say quietly.

"Good." It's like I can feel his relief through the line. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay. Bye."

XXX

I'm in the bath when Edward FaceTimes me.

I hesitate, not sure if I should answer… then do anyway.

"Whoa," he says, grinning. "This is a nice surprise."

"Ha, ha." He can't actually see anything because the phone isn't low enough. From the cheeky smirk on his face, you'd think he could see everything.

"Is this my 'thank-you' for the flowers?"

I smile. "You wish."

"Really, are you actually trying to torture me?" he asks, gaze growing a little heavier.

"No. I can call you back if it's too distracting."

He shakes his head, looking like the epitome of a man who is sexually frustrated. "It's okay. I wanna talk to you."

"How's Chicago?"

"Fine. I'd be having more fun in Santa Barbara, though."

I groan. "I wish you were here."

"Like, in the bath with you?" he asks, smirking.

"I mean… I wouldn't be opposed to that."

It's his turn to groan. He fists some hair, and it stays lifted, making me smile. "Who's with you, anyway?" he asks.

"No one. I have the room to myself."

"I mean on the trip."

"Maria, Paul and… Ben."

He nods, face neutral. "Can I ask about that?"

"What about it?"

"Did anything happen with him after I left?"

I hesitate. "Maybe we should talk about stuff like this in person."

"Why?"

"Because it can leave too much room for miscommunication. I don't want that to happen when we're thousands of miles away from each other."

"I get that… but now I also get the feeling something happened with him, and you don't want to tell me."

"Nothing happened with him." I pause, working up the courage to tell him the rest. I don't imagine he'll be thrilled—hell, he didn't like it when the guy gave me a ride home. But I have to be honest, if I expect him to be, too. "There was one thing months ago… he asked if there was a vibe between us. But that was it."

Edward's gaze hardens. "He did, huh?"

"I guess he thought there was something there, but I shut it down."

He's quiet, and I can see his brain working overtime. "When?"

"A few days after you left."

His laugh lacks humor. "Couldn't even give it a week before trying to make a move?"

"I shut it down," I say again, firmly. "Nothing happened after that."

"Does he not realize how fucking inappropriate that is?"

"He does now. It's not like he came onto me, he just asked—"

"He did come onto you."

"Right. Okay. But it didn't feel like that. After I expressed I wasn't interested, he never brought anything up ever again. Honestly, it's been decent."

"As your boss, he shouldn't ever ask you if you are interested. It's…" He licks his lips, shaking his head. "What a dick."

"It was months ago," I mumble, but I know that doesn't make it any better.

He exhales, forehead creasing with frustration. "Maybe it's a good thing I'm not there. I don't think I'd be able to hold back from decking him."

"Edward."

"What?"

"Just… hold on." I set the phone down, draining the bath and slipping into the plush robe. "You can't deck my boss," I say when I'm holding the phone again, leaving the bathroom. "Although it is a little attractive and satisfying to imagine, it's not right. I could lose my job."

"He should lose his job," he mutters. "Does my mom know?"

"What?"

"That her friend's son is an unprofessional prick?"

"No, I didn't tell Esme. I'm not going to. It's taken care of. Please don't say anything either. I'm not asking for trouble."

He doesn't look happy but says, "Fine."

I sit on the bed, leaning back against a mountain of pillows, sighing exaggeratedly.

"Well, now it's your turn," I prompt, raising my brows.

"For what?"

"Have you dated anyone? Or… whatever."

"No. One of my colleagues kind of hinted I should ask her out, but I never did. Later on when she finally suggested we hang out, I said I was involved with someone. So that ended her interest."

"Oh." My mind spirals a little, imagining the kind of woman Edward would work with. Insanely smart, funny, tall, probably a fiery redhead. Bold enough to ask a man out. Comes from a good family, actually has a relationship with her mom. Exactly the kind of woman I'd envision Edward to be with. But he doesn't want that. He wants me. It's a little easier to breathe after I remind myself of that. "I thought this conversation was gonna be… different."

"Different how?" he asks, tone softened.

"I thought we'd talk about your letter. How amazing it was and how I appreciated and loved every word. I didn't think we'd use this time to talk about people of zero importance."

"Sorry. It was killing me not knowing," he mumbles. "I'm really glad you finally read the letter. I hope you know I meant every word."

"I do know." We stare at one another, my entire being missing this man so much. Not sure how many times I'll have to say it but, "I wish you were here."

"Me too."

"Did they put you up in some bougie hotel?" I ask. He flips the camera around to show me his room, and I whistle. "Nice digs. You have a kitchen, too?"

"It's one of those extended-stay places, so it's furnished like an apartment, I guess. And yeah, there's a kitchen for all the food I won't be cooking."

I chuckle. "You might eventually get tired of eating out."

Edward starts moving over toward the window, pulling back the curtains, showing off his view.

"We're right across from Millennium Park, so that's been cool," he says, flipping the camera back to him.

"Send me a selfie with you and The Bean tomorrow."

He grins, shaking his head. "I'm not a selfie kinda guy, Bella."

"I think you have it in you. For me?"

"We'll see." He sighs, expression turning tender. "So when am I gonna get to see you in person?"

"When do you get back to LA?"

"April 30th, like, late that night."

"So May 1st…" I prompt, smiling.

"Your ass better be on a flight to come see me," he says playfully, eyes softening. "Or I'll come to you. Either way, it's happening."

"Yeah," I say, heart exploding with anticipation. "It's a date."

XXX

My time in Santa Barbara passes by quickly.

The days are sunny and warm, filled with meetings, gallivanting around fields of coffee trees, and cramming in as much content as I can. My evenings—the best part of the trip—are filled with Edward.

We talk every night. We watch Netflix together in our hotel rooms, eat take-out over FaceTime. He practices his upcoming presentation, asking for my feedback. The more we talk and spend this time together, the more I need May to be here right the fuck now.

The night before I fly home, he's being flirty. Sexy. He's saying so many things about what he wants to do to me when we can finally see each other. He's done that a couple other times before, but I shut it down, laughing at him and brushing it off. Not tonight though. I let him say whatever he wants, even urging him to say more. His words are erotic and sweet, and I'm aching for him. I start to imagine what he's saying, and I can see it all so fucking well. Then my hand slides into my underwear, and I can feel what he's saying. He's making the best sounds, touching himself, showing me, grunting and groaning when I show him, too. It's so good, and I know his hand would feel better, but right now this is the best. I imagine him touching me, breathing into my neck, the weight of his body. And then I'm begging him out loud to love me, fuck me. Love me. Fuck me.

He says he does. He will. And then we both let go.

XXX

I startle awake in a sweat.

My phone says it's four in the morning. I could still sleep for a couple hours before I have to be at the airport, but the nightmare I had keeps me awake.

It had to do with Edward. It's hard to recall how it starts, but it's easy to remember how it ends—with him not wanting me. He's distant, weird. I keep trying to get his attention, and he purposely avoids me, making me chase him. When I finally reach him, he doesn't look like himself. It's then that he turns into Ben. No, Renee. It's so confusing, and I'm crying—I think I actually did cry in my sleep—until it's Edward again, and he's laughing. Like, what? What the fuck do you expect from me?

That's when I wake up.

I cringe, replaying it. I know it doesn't actually mean anything, it's just bad timing. So many thoughts about Edward and us getting back together have been invading my head lately, it was only a matter of time until my subconscious took over and flipped the script on me.

I stay awake, drinking too much coffee and packing up the room, so I still have an hour to spare before I have to meet everyone downstairs to head to the airport.

I text Edward, knowing he might not respond, but he's two hours ahead, so I know he's awake.

Had the worst dream.

God. I'm a broken record, but I miss him. I just… four more weeks? Four more weeks of FaceTime? And then after whatever time we get to spend together in person, it goes back to screens and texts and touching ourselves, pretending it's the other person? I don't want airport-goodbyes and months to pass by without kissing him. It overwhelms me with sadness to imagine it. That's not a relationship. That's barely surviving. He's worth it, though, and I'll take what I can get. But at this point… I feel so stupid. He's what I want, and he's who I need. So why the fuck am I not giving myself to him fully? Why the hell am I not uprooting my life and telling him he's my life? That I'm all in? Because I should be. Who do I actually have in Seattle, other than Emmett and Charlie? I love them, but I love Edward more. What's serving me—what's actually fulfilling me there?

The answer is nothing.

Fuck my job. Fuck Ben. Fuck Renee. Fuck my lonely one-bedroom apartment that smells like stale weed. Fuck feeling less-than. Fuck doubting myself and Edward and the love he's so willing to give me. Fuck me for ever making him think he didn't mean everything to me.

Fuck this.

All of it.

I open my laptop and with trembling hands, I pull up flights from Santa Barbara to Chicago. I don't think—I just do. When I find one that leaves around ten, I choose it, deciding against using his miles in case it sends him a confirmation email. Instead, I grab my credit card, frantically type in my information, and book a last-minute, one-way flight to Edward.