I do not own Twilight.
Esme looks so much better, healthier than the last time I saw her, almost four years ago.
She's filled out in areas she had lost too much weight and her face is flushed with happiness. Her eyes, I notice, haven't stopped glancing around the room as though she's trying to take in every single detail that she's missed over the past four years.
It's a strange feeling that wells inside of me, looking at her. On one hand, I'm happy she's here, I'm happy she's okay; on the other, I'm angry it's taken her this long. I'm angry she didn't take Emmett and Edward with her when she escaped.
"How have you been?" she asks me quietly, sipping on her tea and glancing surreptitiously at Emmett. She's been doing that a lot. He hasn't glanced her way once from where he sits at the table with Edward.
"I've been okay," I answer and then add, "Better now," when Edward looks at me. His face softens.
She hesitates. "Bella, I…I just wanted to say thank you." Her voice lowers so the other two cannot hear from the table. They're keeping a low conversation, regardless, and I have a feeling it has to do with Esme's reappearance. "Thank you for giving Edward another chance. He loves you and I think he…well, he hasn't had the best relationship to copy off of, as you know." She smiles apologetically.
"I know," I say. "I love him, too. Everything will work out." I tap a finger against the table because discussing Edward and I, and what we went through while she was MIA is not something I had wanted to do. "So, Oregon?"
She smiles and I think she can sense the question burning on the tip of my tongue. "His name is Peter. He's a good man. A doctor." She glances warily at Emmett and I wonder whether he disagrees. Esme shakes her head. "I was not in a good state when I arrived. I jumped on a bus and the next thing I know, I'm waking up in a hospital bed, a blond-haired man looking down at me. I guess I had fallen asleep on the bus and the driver couldn't wake me."
She looks down at her cup and I want to reach across and hold her hand, or touch her arm in the very least, but I don't know how Edward and Emmett feel about her being here, and I don't want to play sides but if I have to, I'll always choose theirs.
"Peter said I was dehydrated and showing signs of exhaustion. Along with the…bruises, he wanted to keep an eye on me, so I stayed with him for a few nights, and…" She smiles again, a genuine grin and shakes her head. "The rest is history, I guess."
I smile back at her, but it's not as easy of a smile because all I can think about is how, while she was fulfilling her life in Portland, her sons were battling the man she left behind. "So, what are you doing in Portland?" I ask, wanting to leave the subject of Peter.
"Working at a boutique." She puts down her cup and folds her arms against the counter. "It's fabulous out there, Bella. You'll have to visit. You and Edward together."
My eyes automatically move to Edward. Had he already told her he wasn't going to move with her? Had he already turned down her offer to pay for school? I don't want to ask right now, but I can tell by the way he stares at the table that my assumptions are right.
It isn't until Esme leaves a few hours later for the motel she had booked that I'm able to talk to Edward about any of this. Emmett leaves for work—a night shift that I'm almost positive he did not originally have scheduled—and I'm straddling Edward on his bed. He's doing a good job of keeping the topic from straying anywhere near his mother, but when I right my clothing and place my palms on either side of his face so he can't turn away from me, he takes his hands out from beneath my shirt.
"Have you met Peter before?" I ask because it surprises me that it's taken Esme four years to gain the courage to talk about him, but Edward only shakes his head. "You think he's good for her?"
He shrugs around me. "She seems happier. And I'm happy for her."
"What about Emmett?"
His eyes harden. "He doesn't think it's fair that she lived this happy, normal life for the past four years without any contact."
I nod, because ultimately I agree, and then I can't hold it back any longer. I push the topic he's been dead set against. "You have to go, Edward. Once your parole is up, you have to go."
It surprises me when tears form in his eyes, even more when he swallows and then whispers, "I know." I press myself to him, curling my fingers into his hair.
"We still have a month," I whisper. "And you only have a full year left, right? It'll be over before you know it. And I'll visit. Spring break? I'll be there." I smile at him, but he doesn't reciprocate. He falls forward and buries his face between my neck and shoulder.
"I don't want to leave you," he mumbles after a few seconds. "I'm terrified of leaving you."
I pull back; make him look at me again. "We'll make it work. I know it didn't before, but we were younger and careless. We didn't communicate. But we will this time, right?"
He sighs and kisses me. It's fast, but filled with emotions he's trying to hold back. "I'm going to fucking miss you," he breathes against my mouth. "I just got you back and now I'm going to leave you."
"For a year," I remind him softly. I brush a hand over his hair, down his face to his jaw. "Then you'll come back and we'll find some place together. Wherever we end up."
He closes his eyes and I pull him back to me, smiling through the tears that form and fall.
"Maybe Oregon will be good for you," I whisper. Maybe Peter will be good for you.