Thanks for your patience! I was able to write the last chapter over the weekend, so next update will be Friday! :)

Puffy hearts to my gals for their help! And to you for reading xx

Chapter Thirty-Two
Two Months Later

Bella

"Ugh, this dress makes me look pregnant," Rose complains, staring at her reflection in the tri-fold mirror.

"Spoiler alert, you are pregnant," I tease.

Rose doesn't think it's funny. She's a bit hormonal and moody, but I guess I would be, too, if I spent the entire first part of my pregnancy throwing up.

With her wedding a month away, Rose opted to buy something off the rack at a second-hand wedding dress shop. This is the third time we've been here, and she still hates everything.

"Nobody looks good in an empire waist gown." She tugs at the material, pulling it taut over the swell of her second-trimester bump. "This dress is fugly."

I steal a glance at Bree, the sales associate who's helping us. She keeps her face neutral and professional. I'm sure she's using every bit of self-restraint not to roll her eyes at us.

"I like it," I say honestly, moving closer to admire the lace detail along Rose's collarbone.

"My boobs look in-fucking-sane."

I scoff. "They look amazing."

"I guess they aren't that bad." She makes a face in the mirror. "This tacky-ass empire waist, though."

"Then don't choose that style," I say like it's an obvious fix. "There are plenty of other dresses, Rose."

"But I kind of have to go with an empire waist, right? If I don't want everyone at the wedding to know I'm pregnant?" She moves away from the mirror and goes back into the dressing room, pulling the curtain closed.

"A lot of people already know you're pregnant. And if they don't, you realize people are going to find out you were pregnant before you got married, right?" I call out, moving toward the accessories to try on a beaded headband. "Pretty sure people know how to do math."

"Yeah, that's fine." She grunts, sounding like she's struggling to undress. "I just don't want everyone knowing at the wedding and being all judgemental to my puffy pregnant face. They can talk shit behind my back. That's perfectly acceptable."

I roll my eyes even though she can't see me. "Who is going to judge you for getting pregnant with your fiancé's baby?"

"Old people. Christians. I don't know."

I laugh and put the headband back. "You didn't invite any elderly Christians."

"So, I take it that dress is a 'no'?" Bree asks.

Rose pushes open the curtain, clad in her own clothes. "It's a hell, no."

"You didn't have to be so rude to the sales associate," I say as we walk outside. It's drizzling, and I pull the hood of my raincoat over my head. Rose lets mother nature mist her.

"Please! I was harmless. Besides, she should be used to dealing with bridezillas. It comes with the territory," Rose says casually. "Can we go eat? I'm hungry."

"If eating will put you in a better mood then yes, we can go fucking eat."

Rose beams and links her arm with mine. "Thank you."

We walk to a restaurant near the bridal shop, one that I've never been to before but always wanted to try. We get settled at a table, and while we're waiting for our food to arrive, Rose looks at me seriously.

"I need to tell you something," she says.

"What?" I ask, sticking a straw in my water and taking a sip. "The baby isn't Emmett's?"

She laughs. "Shut up! No. It has to do with Edward."

My heart plummets. "Did he relapse?"

Rose shakes her head. "No. He's actually doing really well."

Relief overcomes me, and then another dread sets in. "Is he seeing someone?"

She shakes her head again. "Not that I know of. I don't think he's supposed to date for a while." She's right. All of the Googling I've done about recovery says it's not smart to jump into a relationship until you've been clean and sober for at least a year. I doubt everyone follows that suggestion, but I hope Edward does.

I haven't seen him in two months, since that night at my house when we had the most honest and devastating conversation of my life. I've needed time to process everything. I've needed to reconcile the man I thought he was with the one I now knew lied and manipulated me for almost the entirety of our three-year relationship.

It's been more difficult than I thought it'd be to come to terms with the fact that I potentially didn't know him at all.

Hearing him come clean about everything, no matter how much I thought I was prepared, was painful, to say the least. He said he loved me, and while I never truly doubted that while we were together, it's hard to fathom some of the things he did to a person he supposedly loved.

I understand he was sick. I know every day is a struggle for him, and he's constantly working on himself to stay clean. Addiction is a lifelong battle. And I wasn't lying when I said I was proud of him.

But I just don't know how to make him fit into my life again.

When I remember the toxic nature of our relationship before, it makes me anxious. I know things wouldn't be the same, but right now it's hard to imagine anything else.

"You know Emmett asked him to be the best man," Rose says, eyeing me. "Right?"

Between my thumb and index finger, I ball up the trash from my straw. "Right."

"With the wedding a month away, it's silly to make you or Alice the maid of honor. I mean, you've both stepped into that role equally," she explains. "But Em and I were trying to figure out who everyone will walk down the aisle with, and I wanted to see if you were okay walking with Edward."

"Oh."

I try to imagine it. Both of us dressed up. My arm linked with his. People's eyes on us, knowing we used to be together but are now apart. Having to stand next to him and smile for the camera.

"If not, it's totally fine. I can have Alice walk with him, and you can walk with Jasper. It's a non-issue. But if you're okay with it…"

"I don't know." My stomach suddenly feels weird. Of course, I've been thinking a lot about the upcoming events Edward and I will have to attend together before the wedding, but I hadn't actually thought about the wedding itself and the mechanics of being in the wedding party. "I… don't know," I say again, my chest tight with apprehension.

"Okay. Well since your immediate response wasn't a 'yes,' I'll just have you walk with Jasper."

"Are you sure that's not weird?" I feel bad. "Shouldn't I be able to put my feelings aside and let you have the wedding you've always wanted?"

Rose snorts. "This isn't the wedding I've always wanted. I thought I'd be a bangin' ass bride in my white dress and be able to get champagne drunk. Neither of those things are happening, but it's okay. It's a different dream now, I guess," she says with a shrug. "I'm still marrying the man I love. You're my best friend. I'm not that big of a bridezilla bitch to force you to walk down the aisle with your ex."

I smile sadly. "Thanks. But you're still kind of a bridezilla bitch." We both laugh. "I can walk with one of the other groomsmen; it doesn't have to be Jasper. I'm sure Alice will want to walk with him."

"She's okay with it. I already asked her. But I definitely need you and Alice standing right beside me, and Em wants Edward and Jasper by him, too. You four are the most important in the wedding party, so it makes sense to just switch y'all around." She smiles. "Problem solved."

"Are you positive?"

"One-hundred percent positive." She offers a warm smile, then looks around. "What's a pregnant bridezilla bitch gotta do to get some food around here?"

XXX

Two weeks later, I call Edward.

Ever since my chat with Rose, and a few therapy sessions, I've been thinking it might be good for Edward and me to see each other before all of the wedding festivities. Part of me knows merely walking down the aisle with him shouldn't be a big deal. But the anxiety I feel at the thought doesn't sit well with me.

I'm sure a lot of it has to do with the fact that he's not really in my life at the moment. That's mostly been my doing. It's what I've needed. But he'll never be gone from my life for good. Em and Rose are so important to me, and now that they have a kid on the way, avoiding Edward isn't really an option. Deep down, I don't want it to be an option. I want to be able to hear his name, speak about him, and see him and not have my heart hurt or my pulse spike.

He doesn't answer when I call, and I'm listening to the automated voicemail, contemplating whether or not to leave an awkward message, when he calls back.

"Hi, there," I say, hoping to sound casual.

"Hey." His voice is soft, and it's surprising to me how good it feels to hear it.

"You just saved me from leaving a super awkward voicemail, so thanks for that."

His laugh is deep. "Dammit. I would've loved to have a super awkward voicemail from you." I fight a smile, and he goes on. "Sorry I missed your call at first. I'm at work and couldn't answer."

"Oh. We can talk later…"

"It's all good. I stepped outside, so I have a minute."

I clear my throat. "Okay. Yeah. So, I was hoping we could meet up soon if you're down. Just so the first time we see each other again isn't at the rehearsal dinner. I'd like to avoid an awkward run-in…"

"Yeah, we definitely don't need another one of those," he says, amusement in his tone.

"When did we have an awkward run-in before?"

"At the store a couple of months ago. When I was holding the fucking balloon."

I laugh out loud at the memory of him standing in the store with the birthday balloon for Emmett. It wasn't that awkward, at least not for me. He did seem a little nervous when I first ran into him. But I might've reacted the same way if he'd approached me instead of the other way around.

"The balloon was sweet," I reassure him.

"Eh."

"So, you wanna meet up?"

"Sure," he agrees. "When are you free?"

"Sunday?" Two days from now. "We could do brunch or something."

"That works. Like eight?"

"That's breakfast," I balk. "I was thinking maybe eleven?"

"That's lunch," he teases. "But, sure."

"You suddenly a morning person or what?"

"I guess I am since my Saturday nights aren't spent getting fucked up anymore."

He says it so casually, with a hint of humor, but I don't know. It feels weird for us to joke about it. It feels too soon.

"That's really great to hear, Edward." I hope it doesn't come off as condescending. I mean it.

"Shit, sorry." He breathes out. "Did I make it weird by bringing that up?"

"Not at all. So, you're doing well then?" I tentatively ask.

"I'm doing okay. I have my days." He pauses. "224 of them have been clean and sober, actually."

"Wow." A swell of pride fills my chest, and I try not to sound too emotional as I say, "Seriously. That's amazing."

"Thanks," he murmurs, almost shyly. "How are you?"

I'm about to reply when I hear someone in the background. There's shuffling on the line, Edward's murmured voice replying to them, and then he's back.

"Fuck, sorry. I gotta go." He pauses, and I wonder if he feels as disappointed as I do. "Sunday at eleven? Maybe that diner by your house that we used to go to?"

"Sure," I say breezily.

"I'm really glad you called," he says after a moment. "Really glad."

"Yeah, I…" I'm caught off guard by the softness in his voice. "I'll see you Sunday."

He says goodbye, and we hang up. And I realize afterward that the heaviness that'd been present in my chest at the mere thought of him is no longer there.

XXX

I'm ten minutes early when I get to the diner on Sunday. As I get out of my car, I spot Edward standing a few feet away in the parking lot, smoking a cigarette.

He hasn't seen me yet, his focus on the phone in his hand as he blows smoke toward the ground. I could go inside and wait, but I head over to him instead.

He doesn't notice me until I'm standing in front of him. He looks up, eyes hidden by Ray-Bans, his mouth turning up in an easy smile.

"Hey."

"Hi." I grin, sliding my sunglasses on top of my head.

"You caught me," he says a bit sheepishly, holding up his cigarette and pocketing his phone.

"Oh. Did you quit?"

"Not fully. Just constantly trying to cut back." He steps on it with his shoe, smothering the smoke, then picks it up. "I let myself have one when I'm nervous."

My heart betrays me by skipping. "You're nervous?"

He opens his mouth, laughs once, and tugs on the back of his neck. "You're not?"

"I am," I confess. "I actually got here an hour ago and have been driving around, killing time."

Hearing this seems to put him at ease. "I got you beat by, like, fifteen minutes."

I gasp playfully. "No, really?"

"Really. I got here at nine forty-five."

"We're losers." I laugh, shaking my head.

"Nah. We're just…" He trails off, holding my gaze behind tinted lenses. "You wanna head in?"

"Yeah."

He lets me lead the way and holds the door open, so I can walk in first. We get seated at a booth along the wall, surrounded by others that are already full. He sets his keys, cigarettes, and sunglasses on the table. We don't dive into conversation because the waitress immediately comes over and recognizes us.

She smiles wide and friendly. "Been a hot minute since I've seen you two here!"

Edward and I laugh politely and nod. We used to come here when we were hungover, eat a ton of greasy food, and wash it down with more alcohol.

"What can I start ya with? Same ol'? Beer for you, and a bloody mary for the lady?" she asks cheerfully.

"I'm okay with water and coffee. And I'm ready to order food," I say, just needing her to go away.

"You can get a bloody mary if you want," Edward says to me.

I shake my head. "I'm good."

The waitress doesn't pick up on the awkwardness, takes our orders, and leaves. Fortunately, we don't let the run-in rattle us, and we settle into a comfortable silence once we're alone.

"So, how are you?" I ask, leaving it open for him to talk about whatever he wants. His job, his sobriety. Whatever he fills his time with now.

"I'm not bad. Tired, but in a good way." He shrugs. "I make myself stay busy, so..."

He leaves it at that, and I push a little. "Like with work, or..."

"Yeah. I'm still at the music shop full-time. Spring quarter's only halfway done, so I'm doing that part-time, too."

The waitress returns with two waters and two coffees, and I'm thankful she doesn't try to pick up the conversation again.

"How's that been going?" I ask, blowing into my mug.

"My classes?" Edward asks, taking a sip of water. "It's… weird, kinda. Being on campus. Feeling old as fuck." His eyes cast downward as he lets out a self-deprecating laugh. "I kinda keep to myself, and the kids in my classes probably think it's strange, but I'm not really there to make friends."

"Kids?" I laugh lightly.

He eyes me, almost like he's checking to see if I'm laughing at him. "They might as well be."

"You're not old."

"Older than I was when I stopped taking classes ten years ago."

"Yeah, but…" I feel a stab of defensiveness for him, but I don't know what to say, so I drop it. I let myself take a good look at him instead. "Looks like you've still been busy working out."

His arms are bigger, more toned than when I saw him two-and-a-half months ago, and his chest is a bit broader. Eyes crystal clear and the brightest green. His face is open, expression soft, and it catches me off guard just how much I've missed him. Which is weird because I don't know this version of him. I don't know this soft and sober Edward who looks me in the eyes and only smokes when he's nervous and shows up so embarrassingly early.

"Yeah, I've still been running and lifting weights. And I beat Emmett's ass three times a week in boxing." He laughs genuinely this time, and I smile just as easily. "But, actually, he kicks my ass. It's good for me."

"Boxing," I muse. "Can't say I've ever tried it."

My mind goes to that night that feels so long ago when he laid into Ben. I push it away. So far away. That's not him anymore. He's using a healthy outlet for his frustration now.

"Enough about me. How are you?" he asks, spinning his water glass in a puddle of condensation on the table.

"Good. Only have a little more than a month until summer break. The kids are freaking insane, of course. Everyone's a bit antsy."

"Yeah." He nods. "I feel that. Something about this time of year, right? It's in the air," he says, and I find myself nodding along.

"Anticipation, I guess. The excitement of something new just around the corner."

"Yeah."

I drop my gaze. "So, I hope you don't think, like…"

"What?" His voice is soft, and when I look up again, his eyes are searching my face.

"I know I've kind of avoided you since we talked that night." He hasn't tried to reach out, either, which I really appreciated. I don't know if I would've been able to stay away if he tried to get close again.

"You don't have to explain yourself, Bella."

"I know, but I want to."

"Yeah, but I told you, I didn't expect you to forgive me after everything." His face stays solemn. "I'm honestly surprised you reached out but really glad you did."

"I'm surprised I did, too," I say, just as honestly. "Hearing everything that night… It was a lot to sort through. Still is, but…"

His brows raise. "But?"

"I don't know." I'm stalling. "I guess when I said that it seemed like you never loved me, that was a bit unfair. But it was how I felt."

He sighs deeply. "Your feelings were valid. Still are."

"Yeah." I look out the window, into the parking lot. "Who am I to tell you what you did or didn't feel? Just hard when it didn't seem like your actions matched up with your words. But I understand that was the addiction. Not necessarily the real you."

We're quiet, letting the surrounding tables fill the silence for us.

"I don't even know what I'm trying to say." I chuckle awkwardly and look back at him. He stays quiet but stares intensely. "I guess… after some time and space and therapy, I'm hopeful that not everything we shared was a lie."

"It wasn't," he replies sincerely.

"I don't feel as angry toward you anymore." I don't realize I'm going to say this until the words are out of my mouth. Once they are, it feels like a weight has been lifted.

"I deserve your anger," he says seriously. Not self-deprecatingly or to make me feel guilty, just… truthfully.

"Yeah?" I look down at my hands. "I don't know. Some days I'm still sad about everything. Others, I'm just bummed we aren't in each other's lives." I sound like I'm all over the place. "Then there are times when I'm really pissed because you're still in my life in a roundabout way, yet I feel like I'm not entitled to know anything about you."

His brows furrow. "What do you mean?"

"Like, you're still Emmett's brother. I'm still Rose's best friend. You're still there, but you're not." I hope I'm making sense. "Everyone tries so hard not to mention you around me. For a while, that was what I wanted. That's what I requested, even. Now… I don't know." I sigh, not quite sure the point I'm trying to make. "Maybe we should just duke it out in the boxing ring," I joke, the corner of my mouth lifting.

His laugh is abrupt. "That could be arranged."

"Nah. I wouldn't want to embarrass you," I say lightly.

"Yeah, you're right. Maybe we shouldn't. You'd kick my ass, Swan."

"Oh, whatever." I smirk. "I didn't mean I'd embarrass you because I'd win. The most athletic thing I've done today is not trip."

He grins, and that light in his eyes that was dim for so long is shining. "Hey, we all gotta start somewhere."

Our easy back and forth makes my stomach flicker with those feelings I used to associate with him. Attraction. Lust and longing. It happens quickly, and I'd be mad at myself for allowing them to be present if it didn't feel so damn good. I groan a little and place my forearms on the tabletop, dropping my head and hiding my face from him.

"What?" he asks, and when I don't answer, his fingers brush my arm. "Bella, what?"

The last time we saw each other, everything felt off. It was awkward, and the way we interacted… It was like we forgot how to be around each other. But that made sense. I assumed today would be similar. I wasn't expecting to show up here today and have things feel easy like they do right now.

I lift my head. "You're different."

He swallows, every trace of humor gone. "Bad different?"

"No." I shake my head. "Good different. Like… I want-to-know-you-again different. I wasn't expecting that."

"Oh." He almost looks guilty. "And is that bad?"

I think about it, then settle on: "It's confusing."

"I see."

I chew the inside of my cheek. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs.

"Don't be. It is what it is."

We're quiet, and I like that he doesn't push for me to expand on what I meant because I don't even really know.

Our food comes, and we eat, keeping everything light and friendly after that. We talk about the upcoming wedding and how he'll be an uncle in mid-September. He's rooting for Rose to be overdue, so Baby Cullen will arrive on his birthday. I tell him doctors don't let babies cook for nearly a month past their due date, and he just laughs.

Soon enough, our plates are cleared, and the bill is split equally. We walk outside together, and our conversation about how shocking the latest season of Ozark was comes to an end as we arrive at my car.

We silently stand near the bumper. He fidgets, like he wants to smoke, but doesn't.

"So, was today successful?" he asks neutrally. "It won't be awkward when you see me at the rehearsal dinner?"

"Today was nice," I say and genuinely mean it.

He smirks. "You sound surprised."

"I told you I wasn't sure what to expect," I say honestly.

"Yeah. I get that."

Edward reaches for my elbow suddenly, tugging me closer. I don't realize why until I look over my shoulder and see the car next to us backing out. He stares down the driver, looking a little irritated.

"Dude should look before backing up," Edward mumbles under his breath, dropping his hand from my arm.

My smile is soft. "Thanks for looking out."

"Don't mention it. Thanks for coming today," he tells me.

"Thank you."

Still, we linger.

"We could do it again sometime," I offer. "Maybe."

His eyes are bright. "Yeah?"

"Could be fun."

"Yeah, just let me know. I'll leave this up to you."

"Define 'this'," I ask, my tone buoyant and playful.

"Being friends," he clarifies. "If that's what you want."

I like that the ball is in my court, but I don't want all of the pressure. I want us both to be equally in charge here.

"You get a say, too," I remind him. "If you want to be friends."

"I know," he murmurs and pulls out his cigarettes. I wonder if he's nervous now. "I do want that—more than you know. But you should know up front that I'm kinda boring now."

"And how is that different from before?" I tease, and his eyes blaze with amusement.

"Ouch," he says, but he's smiling. "I just meant… it's necessary, and it's been good for me, but sober is kinda boring."

Sober is kinda sexy on him, but I don't dare fucking say it.

My burning cheeks nearly give me away. Not that he knows exactly what I'm thinking but still. He doesn't ask, but he definitely notices. I catch him staring too closely, and a thick swallow makes his Adam's apple bob.

We don't hug goodbye, we just say it, and we don't make any plans to hang out. We just leave everything up in the air.

As I pull away from the diner and he's standing beside his car smoking, he offers a tentative wave. I smile in return, but there's nothing tentative about it. And it feels good.