When I eventually woke up, the bed was empty beside me. The spot where Edward had slept felt faintly warm, which told me he hadn't been up for too long. Checking the time on my phone, I nearly had a heart attack: 11:05 am.
Edward had spent the night cuddling and going in for round two, and around four in the morning round three. Now I understood why Edward would buy his condoms in bulk: that old man had stamina. I giggled to myself at my own thoughts, relieved and blissfully relaxed. Turns out I just really needed to get laid. The state of being overly fucked that I was currently in did an amazing job to clear my mind.
I made a mental checklist, just like that.
Shower, for sure.
Get dressed and presentable.
Text mom and go pick up my stuff.
Figure out my next move from there.
Having watched my fair share of chick flicks, I somehow found myself hoping to get some kind of romantic gesture. The handsome, rugged guy walking into the room bare-chested in only his boxers, carrying a tray with buttered toast and a gallon of coffee. But my little fantasy-land vanished into thin air the second I realised what was happening in the other room.
"Well? Where the fuck are you hiding your whore?"
Her voice was shrill and I could tell she was crying.
Irina.
My heart leaped in my chest, a wave of blood rushing to my face. This was bad. This was terrible. Then I remembered that Edward had agreed to meet up with his girlfriend here at his house today, in order to tell her they were finished. By her choice of words, I'm guessing she didn't catch Edward in his bed with me, since she has no idea who was here with him. But Irina did know someone was in here. Panic struck and I felt glued to the mattress, unable to move, unable to flee. I should be rushing to hide somewhere, but what would that help? Besides, this would be the last conversation as lovers they'd ever have, right? That's why, instead of crawling into Edward Cullen's closet to hide from the scorned woman, I covered up my naked body with the sheets as I grabbed my phone off of the floor.
I shot my mom a text about helping me move out of Mike's apartment, and her reply was fast and positive.
"You're not even going to deny the fact that you're in here, shacking up with someone? All the while I've been doing some serious thinking and soul-searching in order to get this relationship on track again?" I almost thought she was being sincere, hearing the evidence of what sounded like genuine pain in her voice.
"On the rails? On the fucking rails, Irina? You've been opening your legs for any guy who wants to try it, and you're coming over here accusing me of cheating on you? Do you even hear yourself? You hypocritical, vindictive, little bitch!"
"Are you calling me a tramp?"
"I'm just angry that you'd think this of me, Irina. That you'd think I'd stoop to your level. To think that I invited you over to my house, to spend my free time talking to you about us. And you come here and accuse me? That shit just hurts, Ree."
My eyes widened in pure shock at his words. Shock and horror. Had last night just been a game for him? I stood up from the bed and inched closer to the door, in order to eavesdrop to their conversation better. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Turned out Irina Denali wasn't the only liar in the room. His betrayal hurt more than I wanted to acknowledge. How the fuck had I let this happen?"What?"
"You heard me, alright. Now tell me all about your soul-searching. I'd love to hear it."
He was angry now, I could sense it by the tone of his voice.
"No, but Edward. You have someone in here. There's a car in the driveway, and I doubt a guy would have an entire pile of hair-ties in their center console."
Oh my God, she really was a psycho.
"Irina," he sighed.
"Get the fuck out of my house."
Edward sounded dangerous, menacing. I could just picture the narrowing of his eyes, the volatile and humorless smile on his face.
"You can't just do this! You owe it to me to let me explain, Edward."
Irina sounded hopeless, desperate, but she was losing the game Edward Cullen apparently was an expert player in.
"You're my fucking boyfriend, I love you."
There was some more crying and not once did Edward try and console her. I could only imagine the way she'd try and play a trick on his emotions. It was sad that she knew him so little because some childish crying session wouldn't do a thing to Edward except annoy him half to death.
"Get out. Now. I won't ask you nicely again. Refer to me as your boyfriend ever again, and I'll make sure every guy in this city knows just how dirty you are. And trust me, not in a good way. I'll fill them in on all your nasty tidbits. For starters, the fact that you came home to me; your fucking boyfriend who trusted you enough to let you into his life and give you a fucking house key the same night you slept with your co-worker. You wondered why I'd been single for over a decade, Irina? Well, women like you are why. You play, deceit, manipulate to your heart's desires, and expect a guy to take all that? I will never, once again let myself be seduced by someone like you. You think the world will cater to your every wish, just because you appear to be gifted with the best genes, the best bodies, the best of everything? Well, fuck that. You've opened my eyes once again. I can and will never trust again. Ever the fuck again. Now get out before I throw you out myself."
Edward's heartfelt monologue hit home, hard. He was never a man of many words, but this? This must've been the most I ever heard him say to anyone in one go. And yes, it hurt. It hurt me because I cared for him. And I cared for him because he was hurt. I wanted to rush over there and hug him, but I knew he wouldn't appreciate it.
I also knew that this was not our time. His reactions made it abundantly clear. The fact that I could hear the way his voice cracked in the middle of his last sentence proved to me that Irina had caused a lot more damage than he cared to admit. The fact that he had opened up his heart to a woman again after all those years of being single, proved that he at one time truly did love her. . Edward claimed it had all been physical, with mood-swings and on-and-off-again, but he must have cared; there was no other way. Edward still managed to lie to her, so convincingly that I was questioning everything he'd said to me. What if all he wanted was to get me in his bed?
