**Fiddling was had. Mistakes are mine.
Song:
"I Drink Wine," Adele
Ch 14
8:37pm: Bella, please call me. I'm worried about you. You ran out of here so fast. Edward said you needed some time to yourself and to leave you be, but I don't believe him. He looked too upset. Something happened, and I need to make sure you're okay. —A
10:12pm: At least let me know you got home.
10:34pm: If you don't answer me, I'm coming over.
10:35pm: I'm home. I'm okay. I'll see you Monday. — B
I slug back the rest of the wine in my glass and wipe the tears from my cheeks. Staring at the darkening screen, I'd give anything for it to light up with a message from the only person I want to talk to. But as minutes turn to hours, glasses turning into an entire bottle, I realize that isn't going to happen.
Once again, I'm alone with nothing but an empty glass and a heart full of regrets. And this time, I have no one to blame but myself.
Rain pelts my bedroom window, streaking along the glass in haphazard rivulets, and I can't tear my eyes away from it. I'm still wrapped in my blankets as I stare unblinking at the stormy morning. The weather matches my mood—dark and heavy. Only the sound of someone banging on my front door is enough to snap me out of my trance.
I try to ignore it, God knows I do, but whoever it is, they're insistent. Finally, I give up and walk down the stairs toward the offending noise, if only to make it stop.
"Just a minute," I shout, sliding the lock open and cracking the door.
Standing under her umbrella, looking like the wind could blow her away, Alice looks at me with sympathetic eyes. "Hey, hon."
"Hey."
"Can I come in?"
With a nod, I open the door enough for her to slip inside. "What are you—" My voice catches and I clear my throat. "What are you doing here?"
She only makes it a few feet into the room before she turns on her heel. "I've been up half the night worried sick about you." Once her umbrella is closed, she reaches for my hand. "I know something happened last night, but Edward wouldn't say anything. I watched you run out, and the way he looked … in all the years I've known him, I've never seen him look so upset. Please tell me what happened."
I blink back tears. "I messed up."
She opens her arms to me, and I willingly step into them. We stand there for several minutes while I collect myself. I've cried so many tears since last night, I'm not sure how there are more.
"You know that woman wasn't—"
I pull away and swipe at the tear tracks on my cheeks. "I know that now. But that didn't stop me from thinking the worst."
"Oh, Bella." She sighs. "It sounds like it was a huge misunderstanding."
"It was, but"—I look back at her through clouded vision—"I hurt him, Alice. You didn't see the look on his face. I let my insecurities and all the other garbage mucking up my head lead me to bullshit conclusions. I might as well have accused him of cheating on me."
"You know he would never do that, right?"
"Of course, I know! That's why I'm so angry with myself!" I plop down onto the sofa, resting my elbows on my knees and pressing my face to my palms with a groan. "Ugh, I made an absolute fool out of myself."
The cushion beside me dips and Alice places a hand on my back.
I turn my head to face her. "How do I fix this?"
"Do you want to fix it?"
"More than anything."
"How did you leave things?"
"He said I needed to decide what I want."
"Do you know what you want?"
"Him. I want him, Alice."
A soft smile plays on her lips. "Then you call him and tell him exactly that."
I spend all of Saturday eyeing the phone. I've picked it up a dozen times, but the words I want to say to Edward get jumbled up in my head. If I tried to contact him now, I'm sure I'd only make a fool out of myself. Sunday morning, I'm resolved to make the call, but before I'm even out of bed, Garrett calls to ask if he can bring the kids home early.
"Is something wrong?"
He sighs. "Kate's been running a fever since last night. I'm not sure if it's anything, but I'd rather get them to you in case it is."
My knee-jerk reaction is to tell him I hope she feels better, but the words taste strange before I even utter them. So, I stay quiet.
"If it's okay, I'll bring them over in about an hour."
"Yeah, that's fine," I tell him, climbing out of bed to get dressed. "I'll be here."
Once the kids are home, homework is caught up, and dinner and baths are done, I'm beat and in no frame of mind to have an in-depth conversation with anyone, let alone the man I need to pour my heart out to.
Monday morning is hectic, but I manage to get the boys to school and myself to work on time. And it's a good thing, too, because it's incredibly busy. I barely even have time to use the restroom. I end up staying past my usual quitting time just to get caught up so I don't start the next day behind.
"I need to get you some roller skates," Alice jokes as she watches me from the doorway.
I pull my purse from my locker. "Can you imagine me in roller skates?"
She laughs. "No, I guess not."
"So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah." Before I can get out of the break room, she calls out. "Have you called him yet?"
I shake my head. "Not yet. Between being a chicken shit and the boys coming home early, I just haven't had time."
"Don't wait too long, okay?"
"You've reached Edward Cullen. Please leave your name, number, and a brief message and I'll return your call as soon as possible."
It's been three days since he left me standing in that dark restaurant hallway. Three days of space we both needed to hopefully have cooler heads. Well, that's what I've been telling myself, anyway. Not only has timing not been on my side, but lingering embarrassment has also kept me from calling before now.
It's also the reason my first attempt to call him resulted in me hanging up when the message tone rang in my ear.
But this time I take a shaky breath and collect my thoughts enough to speak.
"I wasn't planning to leave a message. I had myself all worked up to actually talk to you." I stutter a nervous laugh. "I called earlier, but I chickened out and—" I close my eyes, wishing I was saying these things to his face instead of over a message. "I'm sorry, Edward. I'm so, so sorry for making you feel, for even a moment, that I thought you were anything like Garrett. I know you would never do anything to hurt me, would never break my trust. I know you're nothing like my ex-husband, and I … I'm sorry. I think I've known what I wanted for a long time, but I've been too scared to admit it to myself. So, when you have the time, if you want, can we get together and talk? I feel like I need to explain myself and apologize in person for not trusting in you … in us."
Reluctantly, I end the call and roll over, curling into my blankets and attempting to sleep.
"Mommy, I don't feel good."
Instead of bouncing around, getting ready for school, my usually animated Seth is lying on the couch, still in his pajamas. He's pale and his cheeks are flushed.
"What's wrong, kiddo?"
"I just don't feel good."
I sit beside him and lean over, kissing his forehead. He's burning up. "How about you go get back into bed and go back to sleep?"
"Okay. My tummy hurts, too."
"I'll get you some ginger ale to see if it helps, okay?"
He's limp and listless, so I carry him upstairs and lay him in his bed. The thermometer confirms he's running a fever, so once he's settled with a drink and some Children's Tylenol, I call into work.
"Good morning, Bella," Alice sings. "Please tell me you're calling me with juicy details about your call to Edward."
"Unfortunately, no. I'm calling to let you know I won't be in today. Seth's home sick with a fever."
"Oh no. Do you need anything?"
"I think I'm okay for now, but thanks."
After promising to let Alice know if we need her, I disconnect the call. I lean back on the couch and close my eyes.
"Mom?" Jacob asks from the doorway.
"Yeah?"
"Am I staying home, too?"
My eyes flutter open and I look his way. "How are you feeling?"
He shrugs.
"Let's take your temperature and then we'll decide."
It's low, only ninety-nine point four, but I send him back to bed anyway. After calling the school, I start on the few chores I didn't get done over the weekend. I'm folding a load of towels when I hear the telltale sound of retching. Thankfully, I had the foresight to put an empty wastebasket beside Seth's bed before I tucked him back in. With my lightning-fast mom reflexes, I'm up the stairs and at his bedside within seconds, helping him hold the trash can while he empties his stomach.
All afternoon, it's endless rounds of vomiting for my poor baby. His fever rages, and when Garrett calls later in the afternoon, my suspicions are confirmed.
"Kate's doctor said it's probably the flu."
I sigh. "I figured as much."
"They're both sick, aren't they?"
"Yeah. Seth is throwing up, but Jake just has a low-grade fever so far."
"I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I woke up feeling like I was hit by a truck, too."
"It doesn't, but thanks. And it is what it is. They just as easily could have picked it up at school."
As much as I'd love to throw all the blame on Kate and Garrett, I can't. Kids are germ factories, and it's the one thing you can guarantee any child will share with everyone.
When I hear Seth calling for me yet again, I cut my conversation short. "Thanks for letting me know, but I need to get back."
Ending the call, I toss my cell phone onto the couch and head back upstairs.
In the middle of the night, I'm holding the trashcan for Seth yet again as he sits up in bed, emptying his stomach of what little he's been able to drink.
"Mom," Jacob says from his bed. There's a weariness in his voice that sends a ripple of dread up my spine. As soon as I lay eyes on him, he bolts out of bed and runs to the bathroom.
"Dammit," I mutter, reaching for the tissue box, yanking two out to wipe Seth's nose and mouth. "Here, baby."
"Thanks," he whispers, taking one more sip of his flat ginger ale.
As I tuck him back into bed, he's already falling back to sleep. With Seth settled, I grab the offending wastebasket and go to see what mess Jacob's left for me.
Seth's bouts of vomiting get fewer and further between, while Jacob's increase. There's shaking and shivering, spiking fevers and so many doses of Tylenol that we run out. I manage to get a few hours of broken sleep, but it's not nearly enough. I'm exhausted, but my kids need me, so I power through.
Alice, bless her heart, leaves a small care package on the porch the next morning, knocking and running back to her car before I can open the door. The bag has another bottle of ginger ale and two flavors of Gatorade, along with two new bottles of Children's Tylenol.
By Thursday morning, Seth is able to get out of bed. He's still running a fever, and he's still complaining of everything hurting, but it's been several hours since he was last sick. Jake, after a long night of the worst of his symptoms—sky-high fever and a dreadfully painful sounding cough—has at least stopped throwing up nearly every hour. It's a small step, but a welcome one. And it's a good thing, because as I'm standing at the kitchen counter waiting for Seth's toast to pop up, the ache starts to creep in. I'm able to ignore it for a while, pretending the inevitable isn't happening, but when chills hit with the force of a tsunami, I can't deny it any longer.
I'm sick.
Hovering over the bowl of the toilet, my entire body sweaty and trembling, I hear Jake get sick again. With a grunt, I wipe at my lips and flush, standing on wobbly legs to rinse my mouth and wash my hands.
As I stumble my way toward their bedroom, I come to the conclusion I need help. There's only so much I can do on my own, and even less when I'm sick myself. Going into day three, I'm completely spent.
Once I've helped Jacob get cleaned up and settled into bed once again, I climb into my own bed and close my eyes, praying I can get a break.
I can't call Garrett. He's sick, and even when we were married, he wasn't the best nursemaid when the kids were ill. My parents are out of town, and I don't feel close enough to Garrett's anymore to ask, so none of them are an option. I'd ask Rose, but that would mean exposing Emmett to two sick children. And I love my sister too much to risk exposing her to a sick Emmett.
Resigned to muddle through and deal with this mess myself, I burrow into my blankets, content to try and sleep off the virus ravaging my body.
I sleep fitfully. I alternate between shivering and sweating my ass off. I toss and turn, unable to get comfortable. In my periods of wakefulness, I know I need to call Garrett to at least give him an update, but I can't remember where I left my phone or summon the energy to find it. I have lucid moments when I'm sure Seth comes in to check on me, but I wave him off and drift back to sleep.
It's hours later, when I'm bent over the toilet once again, that I hear the doorbell.
"Seth," I croak, my voice weak but echoing in the porcelain.
"Yeah, Mommy?"
I turn my head just enough to see him hovering in the doorway, pajama-clad and still rosy-cheeked. "Turn on the porch light and look out the window to see who it is, but don't answer it if it's someone you don't know. It might be Alice dropping off a few things." Lord, I hope it is.
"Okay," he says. His slow footsteps grow fainter as he goes down the stairs.
Resting my head on my forearm, I close my eyes, wishing this would end so I could take care of my kids. I know it's no fault of my own, but I feel like a failure that I can't take care of them.
Gathering what little strength I have, I flush the toilet and shuffle to the sink to wash my hands and mouth. Using the wall to brace myself, I manage to make it back to my room and crawl into bed.
I'm almost asleep when there's a light knock on my open door. "Hey, baby."
It takes a moment for his voice to register. When it does, a hundred different thoughts hit me at once, not the least of which is that I hadn't planned for our reunion to happen when I'm feverish and puking every hour on the hour, sporting sweat-dampened pajamas.
"No. No, no, no." I pull the covers up over my head, blocking the light streaming in from the hallway. "You can't see me like this, Edward. Please don't—"
While I beg, the edge of the bed dips as he sits, and he gently tugs the edge of my blankets away from my face. "Hey, it's okay."
"It's not. I'm sick, the boys are sick. We're going to get you sick! You shouldn't be here!" A wave of emotion hits me out of nowhere, and tears well in my eyes as a sob rips through me. "You aren't supposed to be here. We were supposed to talk, and I was supposed to tell you I was sorry and we were going to make up. And now you've seen me look like a chewed-up dog toy and you'll never want me!"
His shoulders shake as he smiles, leaning over to kiss the top of my head. "It's okay. We're okay. Go back to sleep, and we'll talk when you're feeling better. I'll take care of the boys, so don't worry about it, okay? I've got this."
He leaves me in the darkened room, closing the door behind him. I'm still an emotional mess, but I'm suddenly exhausted by the entire ordeal, and I can't keep my eyes open.
Sometime later, he comes in carrying a glass of water, a sleeve of saltines, and a familiar white pill bottle. "First things first. Let's see how high your fever is." He sits beside me holding up a thermometer. "Open up."
I oblige, closing my eyes again until the thermometer beeps.
"One-oh-two. How about a dose of Tylenol to get that down?" He opens the bottle and shakes out two pills, holding them out to me in the palm of his hand.
Once I've taken them and drunk enough to make him happy, I lie back into my bed and close my eyes. "How are the boys?" I rasp.
"Jake said he's feeling a little better. I was able to get him to eat a few crackers and drink something. His fever is hovering right around a hundred. Seth is sound asleep on the couch. He was pretty much fine when I got here." He pauses, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "Even if he wasn't quite as … exuberant as I've seen him. He fell asleep watching a movie in the living room."
"Thank you," I whisper. "You didn't have to—"
He silences me with another kiss to the forehead. "I know. Go back to sleep."
He doesn't have to ask me twice. All night and into the early morning, I drift in and out of consciousness, voices from downstairs and the boys' room, rousing me just enough to remind me I'm not alone. I'm racked by chills, alternating between shaking from the cold and burning up, but Edward never fails to come back with a fresh glass of something to drink and Tylenol when I need it.
Right now, he's sitting on the edge of my bed and wiping my face with a cool washcloth. "How does that feel?"
I hum.
He chuckles. "That good, huh?" He continues for several more minutes before setting the cloth on my nightstand and laying a hand on my head. "You're still so warm. How are you feeling? Any better?"
I grunt. "I feel like crap."
"But you haven't gotten sick in a few hours."
My reply is another grunt, but I don't say anything because he's right. I only had to run to the bathroom twice during the night, so hopefully, that part of this horrendous experience is almost over.
With a final brush of his knuckles against my cheek, he whispers, "Get some more sleep. I'll be back to check on you," before leaving me to rest.
The day passes much the same as the day before. I'm up and down, sick a few more times and sleeping as much as I can. The boys' voices coming from downstairs are comforting. I even hear a few laughs. I'm able to sleep knowing they're at least feeling better. As the nausea ebbs, my other symptoms become more pronounced. The tightness in my chest and the stuffiness in my head remind me I probably have a few more days before I'm feeling like myself. With a dose of NyQuil and some Vicks on my chest for good measure, I'm able to sleep through the night.
The next day, as the early-morning sun peeks through the window, I wake feeling marginally better. My body still hurts, and my head feels like it weighs fifty pounds, but my stomach doesn't feel like it wants to turn itself inside out anymore.
There's a fresh glass of water on my bedside table and a fresh sleeve of saltines beside it. He's also left the bottle of Tylenol and a blister pack of DayQuil. The nagging guilt from how we parted ways last Friday night has me feeling like I don't deserve his care and concern.
"How are you feeling?" My eyes are drawn to him as he leans in the doorway. "It's almost time for more Tylenol if you're still running a fever."
"You're still here."
"Of course, I am. Where else was I gonna go?" He smirks as he pushes off the doorframe and walks toward me. "Do you still feel feverish?"
"I don't think so."
His hand is cool and gentle as he lays it on my forehead. "No, I don't think so, either."
"I still wish you hadn't seen me like this."
"I've seen 'real Bella' before."
"This is beyond real." I hold the sheets closer to me. "I'm sure I look like death warmed over. And I can't imagine how I smell," I grouse.
He chuckles but blessedly keeps his comments to himself.
I glance at the glass and medicine he obviously left for me while I was sleeping. "Thank you for taking care of me."
He smiles softly. "That's why I'm here."
"How are you here? I mean, how did you know?"
"Alice. I ran into her at the Safeway Thursday after work and she said you were sick. I'd been trying to call you since Tuesday night, but you never answered."
"I don't even know where my phone is."
He grins. "I found it between the couch cushions."
"That would explain why I never heard it ring."
"I was convinced you were avoiding my calls."
"I wasn't."
"I know that now. When I ran into Alice, she said she'd tried to get in touch with you all day, too. That's when I got worried. I ended up buying a bunch of things you might need and came over." He brushes a gentle hand over my clammy cheek. "And I'm glad I did."
"I'm glad, too," I whisper.
He pulls his hand away, leaving me bereft. There's a simmering uncertainty between us, and I don't like it.
"We need to talk."
He nods. "We do. But not until you're feeling like yourself." He looks over his shoulder toward the door then back to me. "And it's probably a conversation we should have without little ears around."
"Yeah. You're right."
"Of course, I am." He grins, and some of that uncertainty slips away. "I propose, if you're feeling well enough, that you get a shower and change into some clean pajamas."
"I really do stink, don't I?"
He chuckles. "A shower couldn't hurt. But really, I think you'll feel better if you get cleaned up."
I'm slow and still a bit unsteady on my feet, but a shower is exactly what I need. The hot water feels so good on my tired, sore body, and the steam loosens some of the congestion in my chest. It also feels incredible to wash away days' worth of sweat and stink. As I'm brushing my teeth, I take in the clean sink, the scrubbed toilet and mopped floors. Everything is … clean. I'm not too proud to admit it brings a tear to my eye. When I finally emerge from the bathroom, my bed has a fresh set of sheets on it, and there's a steaming cup of tea on my bedside table.
"I don't deserve him," I whisper to the empty room.
Settling into my sweet-smelling bed, I sip the tea and let it soothe my ragged throat. When it's all gone, the exertion of just taking a shower has caught up with me, leaving me exhausted. Knowing my kids have someone looking over them, I'm able to drift back to sleep.
It's morning again when I wake. I take a quick inventory of my symptoms, and for the first time in days, I feel close to human. Seth's giggle floats up the stairs, and the sound makes me smile. Feeling the need to see more than my bedroom walls, I grab a blanket and head for the stairs. What I find when I get to my living room has my heart skipping a beat. My boys are snuggled up on either side of Edward, watching cartoons with rapt attention.
Edward is the first to spot me.
"Hey, look who's up."
"Mommy! Edward came to help us! He's been sleepin' here, too!" Seth scrambles away from my boyfriend, but before he can tackle hug me, Edward holds him back.
"Careful, bud. Your mom still doesn't feel great."
"I see that." I gingerly cuddle into the opposite corner of the couch. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," Seth answers. "Edward made me some chicken soup for dinner last night, and it was really good."
Surprise colors my face as I look Edward's way. "Did he?"
"It had noodles and everything," Seth elaborates.
"He had a whole bowl, too." Edward gently ruffles Seth's hair before looking my way. "There's plenty more. I can heat some up if your stomach feels up to it."
"Yeah, I'll try a little." I turn to my oldest. "What about you, Jake? How are you feeling?"
"I'm better."
I don't expect more of a response than that, so when he scoots across the couch to cozy up beside me, I take full advantage and put my arm around his shoulders. It doesn't take Seth long to join us.
Having my guys, Edward included, around me is the very best medicine. Edward's smile as he watches us is contagious, and even though I still don't feel fantastic, I can't wipe the smile off my face.
The chicken soup isn't from a can. It's homemade, with chopped vegetables, chunks of chicken breast, and just the right amount of spices. It's the first real food I've had in days, and even though it's early in the morning and I'm only able to eat a little, it's perfect.
The boys stay camped out on the couch to watch TV, and as the morning turns to afternoon, I step outside, inclining my head in a silent invitation for Edward to join me.
He eyes me warily as we sit on the porch. "Are you sure you're okay to sit out here?"
I hum, tilting my head back to breathe in the fresh air. "I'm okay. It feels good. I've been holed up inside since Tuesday." I look at him. "What day is it, anyway?"
"Sunday."
"I missed almost a whole week," I muse quietly. Then it occurs to me, "You missed work Friday to come and babysit us? You shouldn't have done that, we would've—"
He reaches for my hand. "It's okay. I wanted to be here. I still want to be here."
I rest my head on his shoulder. "Thank you. I'm not sure what I would have done without you."
"I'm sure you would've managed. But I'm happy I was able to help."
Several cars pass by, and the sounds of the neighborhood kids playing grow louder. Every moment that ticks by gives me a chance to think of what I need to say to this wonderful man.
"I'm so sorry," I say softly. "After the way I behaved last week …" A sigh escapes me. "I don't know how you could bring yourself to come help us."
"We've got plenty of time to talk about all that." He kisses the top of my head. "And if I'd gotten your message sooner, I would have been here sooner."
"When did you get it?"
"Well, I got it Monday night, but we were out on training exercises until late that night. By the time we came in, it was too late to call. Then Tuesday I had meetings all day. And by the time I called Tuesday night …"
"I'd misplaced my phone."
"I tried you every few hours on Wednesday, but at some point, like I said before, I decided you weren't answering because you didn't want to talk to me."
"You know that's not true."
"I do now. After hearing your message then you not taking calls … I wasn't sure what to think. I guess you could say I was a little confused." He wraps an arm loosely around my waist. "But my stop at the grocery store changed all that."
I look up at him. "I'm glad it did. Thank you."
His hold on me tightens. "No thanks necessary."
"Where is my phone, anyway?"
He reaches into his pocket and pulls it out, handing it over. "It was dead, so I charged it. I, uh, might have seen a few messages pop up when it came back to life."
"Oh, what—" I heave a sigh when I see half a dozen messages from Garrett, all asking me about the kids. "He's not happy with me. I wonder why he didn't call the house phone?"
Edward rubs the back of his neck. "He did, actually. You were just too out of it to notice the phone ringing. He left a few messages, but I didn't feel comfortable answering your phone."
"I should call him back. Let him know the kids are okay."
"He knows. Jacob answered the last time he called, and he said his dad would be here at the usual time to get them."
"I need to pack their bags and—"
"It's done already. Pending your inspection, of course."
I lay my head back on his shoulder. "I'm not sure how I'll ever thank you for this."
"You could start with giving me your home number." He chuckles. "I realized I probably would have known you needed me sooner if I'd had the number to your landline."
"I'll remedy that right away." I tilt my head to look up at him. "Maybe after Garrett gets the kids we could have that talk?"
He searches my eyes, and he must find what he's looking for. "Tomorrow. It's late, and you're still not feeling great. I can see how tired you still are. We can get the boys to their dad, and you can get another night of rest. Then we can talk."
An unfamiliar feeling swirls in my belly at the sound of "we," but it's not at all unpleasant.
"Do you think you'll go to work tomorrow?" he asks.
"I might take one more day. It'll kill all my sick time, but I'm not sure I'm ready to be on my feet all day."
"I can go in tomorrow for wing stand up and hand things off to my OPSO. Then I'll come back here."
"You're taking another day off? For me?"
He looks down at me, and the emotion shining in his eyes is enough to take my breath away. "If it'll help us put all the uncertainty behind us and make you feel better, absolutely. And it's not just for you, Bella. This is for us."
A/N: How are we feeling now? Any better? Who else wants an Edward to come take care of things when they're sick? Just me? Didn't think so. Hehe. I'd love to hear your thoughts! Oh, and I loved how the opinions were so split on the last chapter on whom the blame lies for their miscommunication. Some of you were very … passionate in your opinions. I am here for it! Lol.
We should be back to every other Tuesday from here forward until I can build up my banked chapters again. It's been a struggle, but I was able to finish another one last week. Keep sending me the writing mojo!
Remember, the best way to stay up to date with what I'm up to, join in the discussion, and to see exclusive weekly teaser pics, check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics. I'd love if you all could join us. I'm also on Twitter at CSunshine1220.
I will "see" you in two weeks!
Be kind.
Stay safe.
Stay well.
Lots of love
~Sunshine
