Well, well, well ... we meet again. I just wanted to take a second to thank you all for your amazing reviews. I appreciate you guys for being so supportive, despite the obvious lag in posting that I had. You all are the best (:


DISCLAIMER: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

Beta: Fran

2018

I take a deep breath before swiping my thumb across my phone screen to answer Edward's call.

"Hello?" My voice is hoarse and thick. I pause, breathing deeply before attempting to clear my throat.

"I'm here." He's curt. My spine straightens automatically in response.

"I'll be right there."

The line goes dead as I pull myself up from the couch and stride to the front door. One look out the peephole confirms his presence. He's leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, face impassive. The motion of the door opening doesn't stir him. He's focused on the door jamb opposite him, eyes narrowed minutely.

"Um, hey," I address him, gnawing my lip. He doesn't look up at my greeting. "You want to come in?" I break the silence, pushing the door open further in invitation.

My voice seems to break his focus, and he blinks, straightening to his full height as he sighs. "Yeah, sorry, um, I'll come in."

I sure hope he would. He has a lot of explaining to do.

My eyes slowly take him in as he shuffles into the living room, body clearly weighed down with weariness. Frowning in concern, I let the door shut behind me before following him in and dropping down on the couch opposite him.

He doesn't look up. Head between his knees and hands cupped around the back of his neck, he lets out a tortured sigh before mumbling tiredly, "I'm sorry. This isn't how I expected today to go."

My stomach twists. "That apology would be a lot better if you at least looked me in the eye as you said it."

I don't mean to sound so harsh, but I can't seem to keep the bite out of my tone. I mean, I'm not wrong. He at least owes me that.

His hands clench around the wayward strands at the back of his head as he lets out a humorless laugh. "You're right," he mumbles, flattening the hair he just disturbed. His head lifts, eyes hot on mine. "I'm sorry, Bella. Truly. Today was all kinds of fucked."

"Okay," I nod in acknowledgment of his apology. However, forgiveness, I realize, will require much more of an explanation.

"I ... There's so much you don't know." He looks ashamed as he speaks. "So much I didn't want to share with you on account of who you are to my daughter."

He pauses, waiting for my response.

"Okay," I repeat, eyes urging him to continue.

"Irina and I may not be together any longer," he sighs, leaning back on the couch. He curls his hands into fists and rests them on top of his thighs. Clearly, he's not comfortable talking about this. "But, she's still my daughter's mother. The last thing I wanted to do was give you a negative perception of her. At least, not before you were able to establish your own opinion of her based on your own interactions."

He pauses - once again - waiting for me to process what he's just said. I open my mouth to urge him on, but he cuts me off. "Please don't say 'okay.' It's driving me fucking crazy. Say anything but that, please."

I frown, narrowing my eyes at him. "What I was going to say before you cut me off," I pause, raising my brows in challenge, "was thank you for clarifying your motive. However, I think I am more capable than you assumed. I'd like to point out that I've been your daughter's teacher all this time and have had no problem keeping our ... relationship separate from my professional life."

He nods in understanding, fingers restlessly lacing and unlacing. "You're right, and I see that now. I should have been forthcoming from the start."

"That would have been appreciated, yes." I sigh, rubbing at my eyes to counteract the sting of tears behind them. "It certainly would have made me look less like a clueless moron hung up on some dude she clearly doesn't know, which, for the record, I am."

Edward scoots forward, eyes wide under lifted brows. His hands find mine, squeezing tightly as he reassures me. "Hey, no, that's not true. You know me - you know the parts that matter most."

"I know your dick, that's for sure," I grumble.

"You do," he doesn't try to redirect. Instead, he builds on what I've said. "You know my body, and you know my soul." His eyes penetrate mine. "And I know yours."

After a beat of silence, he huffs out a humorless laugh. "God, that sounds corny now that it's out there."

"Maybe," I frown. I won't pretend that his words don't affect me. They do. But, at this point, I need more than pretty words.

"I'll tell you," he concedes, reading my expression with chilling accuracy. "I already planned to. I'll tell you everything."

His hands abandon mine with a parting squeeze. I curl mine around each other in response, sighing at the emptiness his departure leaves behind.

"Um, I told you I met Irina on set for a music video," he starts, elbows propped on his knees, fingers laced together. His expression is anxious - lips skewed to the side, eyes narrowing at something over my shoulder. "It was actually the last one the band ever filmed. We broke up soon after. She was only eighteen, new to America. This was her first-ever modeling gig with celebrities. God, that sounds so stuck up ... but we were kind of celebrities at the time. So, Rina had major stars in her eyes."

He pauses and I frown. There it is - the nickname again. "She was exactly his type ... James' type. He liked girls he could easily manipulate; girls that didn't know any better. Irina fit that to the T - young, naïve, eager. The foreign aspect was a major plus. I honestly don't think she made it into the video. Once she was sucked into James' trailer, there was no coming out. James ... wasn't a good guy, which is why he played the bad boy of our group so well and why the label made me the lead over him. You asked me once why I was chosen as the lead when James was the only true singer of all of us. That's why. He was awful. He had ... problems. Drug problems, alcohol problems, girl problems, money problems. He, himself, was a walking, talking problem. He made touring hell. He would show up to venues strung out, sick, drunk, girls crawling all over him, smelling of hell and rocking a terrible attitude to boot."

He pauses, letting it all sink in. I'm stunned by this revelation, and all I can manage to do is breathe out a startled, "wow."

"He got Irina wrapped up in all of his mess. She went everywhere with him, strung out on whatever his poison of choice was for that day. The girls kept coming and some days she'd cry, some days she'd fight. There were times when she'd participate, and some when she'd lay there, lost for this world, eyes blank, so fucked she had no idea where she was. She'd answer us in unintelligible English. Sometimes slurred Ukrainian." He clenches his jaw as if the memories alone pain him. I want to reach out, hold his hand, but I don't. I can't. He continues. "She was already so, so skinny to begin with. After a month with James, she all but disappeared. I tried to talk to her. I tried to get to her to leave him. I spoke to her agent, but there was nothing I could do. She said she loved him."

My lips part. I want to say I'm sorry, but one look at his face makes me stop. His eyes are lost, hollow as they stare at the wall over my shoulder. His jaw is tight, teeth grinding together as he thinks.

I'm holding my breath. I don't realize it until my lungs jolt and burn, reminding me that I need oxygen to live. I let out the lungful I was holding, and the sound of my shaky exhale makes Edward's eyes snap to mine.

"What happened?" I prompt him, feeling like I can already tell what's coming, but needing him to confirm it, nonetheless.

"It was only a matter of time until it all caught up to her." His face is impassive. He sighs before continuing. "I found her on the tour bus after a show. She was in the back, where our lounge was, alone. She was sprawled on the floor, half-naked, unresponsive, blue, pulse faint. She didn't react when I scooped her up and ran out to the crew. She was practically comatose." He looks haunted at the memory. "Thankfully, there were still paramedics on-site for the concert. The nearest hospital was something like a mile away. They took her. I wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance, but our tour manager stopped me. The press, they'd be all over it if I went with her. I still regret that - not going with her."

"Where was James?" I can't help but ask.

"At a club with some girls he picked up backstage." Edward's face pulls down into a scowl as he answers. "Fucking asshole."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." My hand finds his. His fingers squeeze mine in response, but the frown stays put on his face.

"I'm not done yet," he tells me, throat bobbing in a swallow. "I enrolled her in rehab. She detoxed there for ... a while. But, when she got out, she had nowhere to stay. James was impassive about it all. She'd been in rehab for some time and her absence did not make his heart grow fonder. He didn't really want her back, and none of us - Jasper, Emmett, our manager, her agent, thought it was a good idea for her to go back to him, regardless. She was understandably heartbroken. She ... loved him, so his aloof attitude made her feel spurned. I did what I thought was right. I offered my place for her to stay."

I smile and squeeze his fingers. "That was nice of you."

"She needed somewhere safe," he intones. "Someplace where she'd be free from the temptations that landed her in rehab. Sure, I partied, but with this new responsibility, I cleaned up my act. Everything was fine for a while. Obviously, the band was strained over James' behavior, but, we were pushing through it. Soon, Irina started modeling again. She was getting a lot of gigs and she seemed so much happier."

"When did things change? For you two?" I can't help but push.

"It was a month after she moved in," he draws his hand back and pushes it through his hair. Nerves. "I brought someone home from a party. Irina was upset. She threw a huge fit the next morning and stormed out. I hadn't realized that in our time together, she'd grown feelings for me."

"Did you like her, too?" I probe, wanting to get a full picture of the situation.

"I mean, I thought she was beautiful." Edward sighs, tilting his head back as he scrubs his hands over his face. "But, no, I wasn't interested in her like that."

"Okay," I swallow, trying to process that tidbit.

"She left that morning and didn't come back. Not for a whole week. I tried calling her. I tried her agent. I tried her friends. Nobody knew where she went. I even spoke to the police," he shakes his head, chuckling humorlessly. "They were no help. She'd practically disappeared."

"She came back, though," I state, already knowing how this tale ends.

"She did," Edward drops his chin to his chest, eyes closed as he speaks. "The band had had a studio session that day, we were in the process of recording our next album, and it was tough as shit. James showed up an hour late, drunk as hell, and sporting a piss-pour attitude. We had a huge fight. When I got home, I was bugging. All the stress from Irina's disappearance and my increasing hate for the band seemed to pile up, so I got shit-faced by myself and passed the fuck out. The next morning, I woke up naked, sprawled next to an equally as naked Irina. Apparently, she showed up in the middle of the night, crawled into bed with me, and ... well, we fucked … albeit, I don't remember it due to being wasted."

"Oh, Edward," I murmur, rubbing his knee in lieu of his hands, which are clasped around the back of his neck. His eyes drift open at my touch, and the slow lift of his lashes is so heartbreakingly beautiful. The sight makes my stomach clench painfully.

"I talked to her after and explained that what happened was a mistake. I felt like a total asshole. I could tell what I said broke her heart all over again, but I couldn't do it. No matter how much I cared for her, I wouldn't get into a relationship with someone I didn't have those feelings for." He watches my thumb drag over his knee and sighs.

"Did she leave again?" I prompt.

"No," he frowns. "She was hurt, but she stayed. And ... uh, a month later, she comes to me with a pregnancy test. Positive. One time. It only took one time to get her pregnant."

My heart breaks at the pained expression on his face.

"I didn't want her to get an abortion. I had the means to take care of a child. I was a responsible person. She was finally clean. It didn't seem right to do that. So, we didn't." His hand covers mine on his knee, eyes sliding closed as he speaks. "My parents pushed me to marry her, to make it right. So, I did. I tried to be a good husband. I cared for Irina, I did, but ... I wasn't in love with her. The physical side of our relationship developed eventually, and it was ... nice, I guess."

I can't help but frown at this, which he, of course, catches when he opens his eyes to gauge my reaction. Chuckling softly, he entwines our fingers and squeezes. "Sorry," his lips purse. "When Rose was born, I took the fatherly role very seriously. I was very involved, and the little semblance of a relationship we had started to build, fell by the wayside. I didn't notice, though. I was so wrapped up in Rose and being her father. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Have ever seen." He smiles faintly, thumb brushing over my knuckles.

"And the divorce? When did that happen?"

Edward's smile falls, and I immediately regret that question. But, he doesn't retract his hand like I expect him to. He leans forward, traps my hand between both of his and sighs. "Rose was a month old when I found her again."

My body jolts in surprise, and I gasp. "Oh, my God. She relapsed. Did she overdose again?"

"Not that time, no." He peers at me through a thick fan of dark lashes as he speaks.

That time. Meaning there have been other times.

I want to process this fully, but can't. Edward doesn't wait for me to think.

"I had just gotten home from a studio session when I found her in the kitchen, making a complete fucking mess. She was washing dishes, or at least trying to. When she spun around after I called her name, her pupils were little pinpricks. She was high as fuck, and I called her out on it. I was pissed - she was home alone with our baby, and she'd gotten fucking high. She denied it, of course, and her denial only made me angrier. We got into a huge fight. In hindsight, I realize that probably wasn't the smartest idea. She was unhinged. I tried to make her calm down, but it only made it worse. Then, in the midst of her throwing the dishes she just washed at me; she threw something else in my face.

"That week she went missing a while back … seems she'd gone back to James. She'd binged on drugs. She'd slept with multiple people, unprotected … including James. She seemed giddy to deliver the final blow that broke my heart. She told me what I had already gathered from her confession: our daughter probably wasn't mine."

I fall to my knees at his feet as his tormented confession wrenches all the oxygen from my lungs. "Edward," I gasp, wrapping myself around his bouncing knees. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, baby," he sniffs as my heart breaks for him. I drop my head to his lap as he breathes deeply, eyes clenched shut with emotion. Then, after a pregnant pause, he strokes his hands through my hair and continues. "My parents begged me to get a paternity test, but ... I didn't want to know. I had four amazing weeks of being her father, and genetics wouldn't change anything. I loved her ... and I didn't care. I still don't. She could be James' kid for all I know, and it wouldn't change how I feel about her."

"You're a good man, Edward." I murmur, peering up at him from his lap. He smiles faintly, fingers soft on my scalp.

"Thank you, baby."

Then, he sighs. "We divorced soon after. Irina's family moved to the U.S. to support her, and I got full custody of Rose. We worked it out that as long as Irina stayed sober, she would have visitation. As it stands, Irina picks Rose up from school and hangs out with her until I get off from work. She also has her on the weekends now that she's living with her parents."

My stomach churns as I take this all in. Irina and James. Drug problems. Rose might not be Edward's kid. Their custody situation.

Then, it hits me. No wonder he was so upset seeing Irina at the festival today. "It all makes sense now." I murmur, sitting up. "Was she drunk today? At the festival?"

Edward's hands fall from my hair to my shoulders, where he squeezes briefly and nods. "She was."

I swallow against the tightness in my throat, reeling in shock. It's hard enough to connect the history I now know with the poised, and frankly, intimidating woman I met at school. Not to mention, this added layer of her making the conscious decision to risk her relationship with her daughter by getting drunk ... It's difficult to comprehend.

"I don't blame you for leaving me behind today, then." Edward's lips pull tight, and his chin dips in a solemn nod. "Thank you for telling me."

"Thank you for listening," he murmurs, pinning me in place with his soft, green eyes. His hands find my waist and tug me forward into him. My face fits against his throat, his flesh warm and satiny against my closed lids. I breathe him in, sucking in his masculine scent like it's a drug.

I think we're going to be okay.


Phew, poor B, that's a lot of information to process. What do you guys think? Would you forgive him? I can't wait to read your reactions!

See you guys next week!

xo

j