A fresh blanket of snow greets me on Christmas morning, shining brightly into the empty house.
I stretch, making my way downstairs, desperate for coffee before I get ready for the day.
Edward's wrapped and bagged gift sits on the kitchen table. I smile at it whilst I send him a text wishing him a Happy Christmas.
Coffee in hand, I sit in front of my small tree, pulling the modest pile of gifts from my friends towards me.
I chuckle and smile as I open them, overwhelmed by my friends and their generosity.
Alice bought me a purse I had loved but couldn't afford, it's large enough to use at school, a deep tan leather with brass furnishings. It's beautiful. Rose carefully wrapped a framed picture of her, Alice, Angela and me, taken a few months ago at school; smiling faces, happy demeanours —it's a perfect moment frozen in time. Angela is extremely generous with the value of the giftcard she gives me; I can't wait to spend it in my favourite stantionary store.
All in all, it's the same as every Christmas since my mom left. I sit on the sofa, sipping coffee, grateful for the gifts I received.
It's not flash, it's not fancy. It's humble and it's lonely, but it's … me know.
The first year, I cried, wondering what I did to deserve this, what I did wrong.
Now, I'm numb. Grateful for what I have, ignoring thoughts of what I'm missing out on.
By the time I'm showered and clothed, the snow is thicker.
I decide to walk to Edward's, desperate to see him, if only for a moment. My small chicken and fresh vegetables await me at home, needing to be prepared and cooked. At least it'll pass a couple of hours of my time.
There's a large glistening tree in the front window of Edward's house. Every time I see it, it makes me smile, feeling wistful. It's … Christmas perfection.
I'm lost in my thoughts, staring longingly at the tree when the door opens.
"Oh, sorry," I squeak, when a kind-looking woman with warm brown eyes and honey-coloured hair opens the door. She's dressed classically in a black wrap-around dress and red pumps, her hair and makeup immaculate; she's beautiful.
"Hi," she smiles. "You must be Bella, come in." She steps aside, ushering me inside.
I hesitate for a second, nervous. "Thank you, I'll only be a second … I just … I wanted to give this to Edward." I motion to the bag in my hand, lifting it, feeling like a dork, cringing at myself.
Before she can reply, I see Edward making his way down the stairs towards me, his smile easy. Dark jeans, a white button-down shirt, hair freshly cut, still longer on top than it is on the sides. I think I'm drooling.
"Hey," he whispers as he reaches me, looking me over.
"Coffee's fresh," the woman —who I'm guessing is Esme— chirps happily, clapping her hands and I'm sure my jaw is on the floor.
Edward rolls his eyes, but indulges her, pulling me by the hand towards the kitchen.
I'm too stunned by the dynamics to say much, following wordlessly, like a deer caught in headlights.
Emmett's sitting at the table, eating a mountain of food.
"Emmett, please," Esme chides. "Where are your manners."
Surprised and confused, he looks up, quickly spotting me in the doorway. "Hey Bella!" he calls happily. All I manage in reply is a small smile.
What the hell is going on?
"Please, have a seat. Coffee?" Esme asks. I think I nod, I'm not sure. Edward is stock-still beside me, rigid, quiet.
"It's okay. I um … I don't want to impose."
Edward turns to look at my, his brows furrowing, questioning, trying to figure something out, but I've no idea what.
"Is your dad at home?" he asks finally.
Swallowing hard, I nod. I lie.
He knows.
Head tilting, his eyes narrow slightly. "Tell me he's at home, Bella."
The kitchen around us is deadly silent, all eyes on Edward and I. I think Emmett has even stopped shovelling food into his mouth.
I can't lie, not when he's looking at me like that. But instinctively, I try, opening and closing my mouth a few times, before sighing quietly.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" I jump at the venomous tone of his voice.
"Edward, please. Calm down," Esme chastises. "What's going on?"
Edward's livid, a fiery storm brewing in his eyes, reminiscent of that boy I first met a few months ago.
"It's okay," I try to placate, shaking my head, begging them all silently to just … let me go.
"It's not okay," Edward warns, turning to Esme. "Bella thinks she's spending Christmas Day alone." His voice growls, the anger simmering under the surface.
Esme gasps, eyes widening. "What?" she asks desperately, horrified.
"I'm okay." I assure them all quickly, taking a step backwards, feeling my eyes brim with tears. "It's okay … it's …"
"Bella," Esme speaks carefully, taking a tentative step forward, sensing my panic. "Please take a seat. You're not spending Christmas alone … not anymore."
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A/N
Thanks for reading!
