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Always grateful to Rahnnie and Mel and Hadley for their support.

See you Monday.

Chapter Eleven

Edward's on edge for the rest of the day. When I ask him about it, he brushes me off. When I question him a second time, he says it's because he's bummed I'm leaving tomorrow. Hearing that softens my heart a little, but I don't know. I feel like it has to do with our conversation earlier, but whenever I try to bring it up again, he shuts down. So I stop bringing it up.

With Edward's mood shift, he opts to stay in and take it easy while everyone else cleans up and heads out for one last night on the town. He tries urging me to go hang out with everyone, but I decide to stay in, too. I don't want to spend my last night with anyone but him, so we shower and order food and post up on the back porch as the sun sets, the sky glowing cotton candy pink.

"I don't wanna leave tomorrow," I sigh.

"I don't want you to, either," he murmurs, swigging his beer. I'm watching him too closely, and he must feel my gaze because he meets my eyes. "What?" he asks.

I'm stretched out along the couch on the patio, my bare feet in his lap. I nudge him with my foot, laughing.

"Are you sure you don't want me to leave?"

"Positive," he says with unwavering determination. "I want you around all the fucking time."

"Yet you tried to urge me to go hang out with everyone tonight while you stayed here?" I tease.

He rolls his eyes. "I just said you should go if you want. Of course, I want you with me, but I'm not trying to make you waste your last night by being bored."

"Mmhmm." I move from my spot to straddle him. "Being with you isn't wasting my last night. I mean, why would I want to go out with them when I can stay here with you and do… this." I kiss his neck. The spot below his ear. He hums in appreciation, his hands running up my back as I grind against him a little. "This isn't boring or a waste, is it?"

"Not at fucking all," he grits out.

His phone pings with a series of texts, at least three in a row.

"You want your phone?" I ask.

"Mmmm, no," he mumbles, kissing me. "Probably the guys trying to get us to go out, and I'm too fuckin' tired."

It pings again, and he tips his head back against the couch and groans.

"They need to fuck off," he snaps.

"Just silence it," I say, staying on his lap but reaching behind me to grab his phone for him. When I glance at the screen, I see a name I'm unfamiliar with. "Who's Rachel Phoenix?"

He instantly lifts his head, and his face flashes briefly with panic as he snatches his phone away.

"She's nobody," he says, then he backtracks. "She's the booker who got us that show in Arizona."

"Oh." My stomach simmers with uncertainty. Not because a woman texted him but because of the way he reacted when I said her name. "What does she want?"

"I don't care. Probably nothing."

"She sent four texts in a row. That's not nothing," I say, heart racing with anxiety. "Read them."

"Later."

"Now," I say firmly. He opens his texts and reads them but not aloud. "What does she want?"

"She was saying if we pass back through she can get us another show."

"Why would you pass back through? You already played in Phoenix."

"I don't—"

I snatch the phone from him and move off his lap, reading all four texts.

Hey, youuuuuuuu.

Let me know if you guys come back through Phoenix. I can book y'all again, since the venue had some last minute cancellations.

I suddenly feel stupid, but then I keep reading.

And then you and I can have a repeat? Maaaaybe?

Just let me know *kissy face emoji*

My heart rises in my throat at the same moment my stomach sinks. I hear him stand, but he keeps his distance.

"Did you fuck her?" I blurt angrily, spinning to face him. He hesitates and stalls, avoiding my eyes. "Did you?"

"Yes," he says nervously, looking at me now, his gaze remorseful. "Just once."

Without thinking, I chuck his phone at him, hitting him square in the chest. He doesn't even flinch, like he knows he deserves the pain. His phone falls to the concrete, the screen shattering. He doesn't pick it up though—he just lets it stay there on the ground. Broken. Just like us.

"Bella—"

"Don't." Tears well in my eyes, and I can't look at him. I can't. "Screw you," I spit, moving past him. He tries to grab my waist, but I pull out of his grip. "No, let me go. Fuck you. I can't believe—"

"Bella, stop. Listen to me. I'm sorry. Please. Just—"

"Don't touch me," I cry louder, and he drops his hands and holds them up.

"I'm sorry. Baby, I'm sorry. We weren't together," he tries, and that just makes it fucking worse. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I am, but—"

I spin around, my anger overshadowing the betrayal. "Then what was all that shit today about 'of course we're together, you're my girl?'"

"Yeah, we are now…" His voice cracks, his face pales. "But a month ago? We weren't."

"You weren't in Phoenix a fucking month ago. You were there, what? Last weekend?"

His face falls. "Yeah."

"You fucked her, and then you fucked me. Did you even wear a condom?" I ask, my stomach twisting with worry.

"Of course I did. I did. I swear. And it wasn't… shit. My head wasn't in the right place. I didn't like it. I didn't… I've been so fucked up over us, and—"

"Yeah, okay. So fucked up over us, yet you're doing coke and fucking random bitches. I feel so sorry for you, Edward," I say sarcastically through my tears.

He presses his fists into his eyes, frustration seeping out of him.

"So, how many women have you fucked on tour? Since your excuse was that we weren't together."

"Only her. It was only her, I swear to fucking God. No one else."

"Cute," I say, my voice dripping with acid. "She must be really fucking special for you to give in and fuck her."

"She's not," he says adamantly. "She's nobody, Bella."

My head spins, and as much as I don't want to be near him, there's a sick part of me that wants to push for more answers. I want the details. I want to know how and when and where. I want to know everything. Surprisingly, he tells me.

It was after their show. Her place. He was fucked up. Apparently they did coke before and afterward. He regretted it. Threw up outside. Took an Uber back to the hotel. And then about two hours later, he FaceTimed me.

That was the night he begged me to come to Austin.

The manipulation is too much, and my stomach turns. I push past him and rush inside to the bathroom, clenching my eyes closed as I throw up. I blindly reach for the lever to flush the toilet then stay seated on the floor.

He's standing in the doorway as I wipe tears from my eyes. He squats to my level and asks if I'm okay. I stand and rinse my mouth with water, then I push past him again as he's trailing behind me.

"You called me after you fucked someone else, and you begged me to come here. Do you not realize how fucked up that is?"

"I know," he agrees and follows me into the living room. "I'm fucked up. But I've been fucked up, Bell. I just wanted to make shit right between us."

I turn around, glaring. "You wanna know how you make shit right? You tell me before I see the texts!" I scream. "You tell me before I find the fucking coke. You're always apologizing… always fucking backtracking. I can't do it anymore; it's exhausting!"

He just stands there, fucking defeated. I know he's hurting, but so am I. We were stupid to think one good weekend would translate into something more. We've been putting off our issues forever now. We were blind. We were naive. But he fucked someone else, and even if someday I'll be able to forgive him, I can't right now.

"You added her number to your phone. Like, why…? Did you think you'd see her again? Talk to her? Fuck!" I cry, my voice catching in my throat. "I can't even look at you."

"You're telling me you didn't sleep with anyone while I've been gone? It's been two months. We—"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying, Edward. I didn't fuck anyone else. I didn't want to. Even if we were over, I didn't want it to be. I couldn't imagine doing that with anyone else." As I say it, I imagine him and her together, laughing, fucking. Doing drugs. Being intimate the way we were. It makes me fucking sick. And I hate him. "How could you do this to me?" I ask, my voice so fucking small.

He grabs his hair, tears filling his eyes as he turns away from me, so I don't see him break down. We both stand there, crying, not speaking or making eye contact. With his back to me, his shoulders shake, and I hate that I want so badly to go over and comfort him. We stay that way for seconds. Minutes. Both of us mourning this relationship we couldn't bring back to life. We can't. There's too much damage. So many lies. Even if we weren't together these last two months, I deserved to know everything I was blindsided by today. But he hasn't changed, and neither have I. The only thing left to do is end it for good this time.

"I mean, it's just… I'm done," I say, sniffling and resigned. "I think I'm done."

He spins around, his eyes red and angry. "Bella, don't. Please."

"What am I supposed to do? I leave town tomorrow. I'm supposed to just let this go? Trust you? You're on tour for two more months. There's no way I can just… I can't…"

He closes the distance, dropping to his knees and burying his face in my stomach. "Don't. Please. I swear, it won't ever happen again. I wanted to tell you," he cries, his voice muffled against my shirt. "I was going to. Tonight. After we talked earlier today, I felt like fucking shit. Just guilty and… and… you're right. I should've told you everything."

I push at his shoulders. "Stop," I sob, his words and the way he's holding me so tightly breaks my heart.

"Baby, please," he begs. He begs. "It won't happen again. I'll stop. No more coke. Nothing. I'll fucking quit that shit. For you. I'll do it for you."

"Edward." I push at him again, his tears soaking my shirt. When he looks up at me, his expression only makes me cry more. "I can't. Just… go. You need to go."

"No."

"Ed—"

"I'll marry you," he tries desperately. "I will. We can get married."

I bury my face in my hands, the tears uncontrollable now. This is what I've wanted for so long—him on his knees, proposing marriage. But I didn't want it like this. Not like this.

"Edward, get up. Please."

"Not until you give me an answer. Marry me. We'll put the fucking past behind us. Just—"

"No. My answer is no," I choke. "I don't want you here tonight. I can't have you here. I can't sleep next to you, and I can't look at you, and I just… fucking need space."

He wipes under his nose with the back of his hand, still not letting me go with the other. "Bella."

"Go."

He stands reluctantly, his shoulders sagging as I step away from him.

"I love you," he mumbles, voice cracking.

"Please stop saying that," I beg.

"I need you. Please, don't do this."

"You never needed me," I say quietly, my chest aching. "You never have. Just go. Please. Call an Uber or…"

He stares at me, defeated. Like he's run out of ways to try to get me to forgive him. Like he knows he's really lost me this time.

"I can't call an Uber. You broke my phone," he reminds me, exhaling, and it feels so fitting. A broken phone for a broken heart.

He opens his mouth to speak again, like he's gonna try one last time, but there aren't any words left. I go out to the patio to grab my phone and text Emmett.

All I say is that he needs to come get his brother. Without any other words or information, Emmett replies that he'll be here in ten.