A/N: I'm back from TFMU with a new update! I had a great time this weekend and was so happy to get to meet some of you there! If you're interested, I'll post some pics of the weekend in my Facebook group "thehighlanderprincess'clan." Please join the group if you haven't already and you're interested!

Thanks, Sally, for editing this monster for me! It was so nice to get to hug you in person this weekend!

9

The bookshop felt like my own corner of the world. A place that felt like coming home. Although it was quiet and quaint, it felt like something out of a fantasy. A location at the end of that "happily ever after." Despite being nowhere near any sort of happily ever anything, I let myself bask in the feeling of contentment. This place felt like more than home—it felt like Edward Cullen. Someone who still felt unique and otherworldly despite knowing him better.

There had been many books that consisted of characters who felt too far from ordinary to be believable. Edward Cullen felt like one of these sorts of characters. The type of male leads who had always made me roll my eyes in the past. I had never believed for a moment that I would find someone so unique in the real world.

Everything about him enthralled me. Such as the way he rolled up his sleeves to reveal the muscles and veins of his forearms; along with the way, he allowed his glasses to slip down the bridge of his nose, coming to rest on the arch, revealing the emerald eyes that always looked consumed by everything in the world.

Every day, he would dress classically, donning trousers, button-down shirts, and vests with pockets stuffed with pens. He always seemed like someone from another time as if he had just stepped into the present moment from over half a century before.

In the morning, his hair would start off slicked back—still wet from his shower. While it seemed like he used some product, nothing could keep his locks from being wild. By the afternoon, his copper hair would stick in all sorts of directions. Still, he looked ready for a photoshoot, like the mess was both fashionable and intentional.

My hair, on the other hand, was a lot less stylish. Although it was long now, well past my waist, I never knew what to do with it. Usually, I pinned sections of it back until my hair was in a small bun while the rest of it was tumbling down my spine. Despite not knowing how to properly style it, my hair was one of my favorite parts of me. It was beautiful and healthy, and I could easily hide behind it whenever I was embarrassed or emotional. Around Edward, I found myself letting my hair fall around my face all the time in order to hide a constant blush.

Why I felt the need to hide, however, I didn't know. Despite the flush that never left my cheeks, Edward didn't seem to notice. He was too engrossed in work to look up to judge my appearance. However, there had been times when I had caught him staring at me. Every time, his expression had been unreadable and unfortunately—or fortunately, I couldn't decide which one—I hadn't the voice to ask him why he was looking at me so intently.

Today would mark my third week as his employee. Another week, and I would celebrate my one-month anniversary. Edward talked about bringing in something he had baked for me, but I couldn't tell how genuine he was being. Still, the thought of him going home and baking me something made my heart flutter. It may seem like a small act to some, but I had never had anyone bake me something before. For birthdays, I had been lucky to get a cake at all.

During our mid-afternoon lull, Edward became conversational. Typically, we would work in a relaxed silence. The comfortable sort of silence that usually existed between close friends. Sometimes, he would talk about something—usually, books he was reading or writing he wanted to do. In the short time we had worked together, I learned that outside of gardening on the rooftop, Edward had a keen interest in writing. One evening, right before the store closed, he told me that this year alone, he had filled an entire notebook with poetry, saying that he could find inspiration in every day.

At the time, I couldn't help but wonder if he had written anything about me. Had I inspired him? His mute, mysterious brunette coworker? Was I the type to inspire sonnets? Somehow, I doubted it. Even if he did see me nearly every day, I doubted I ever caused his creative wheels to turn.

"Do you live nearby, Bella?" he asked as he reshelved a stack of books. "You never said whether or not you found a place yet."

In all of the time we had spent together, I never told him I rented a motel room by the week. While we had completed my onboarding paperwork, I had been as vague as possible, putting an old friend's home address while claiming I would change it as soon as I found an apartment. Edward didn't need to know that I was a single step away from being homeless again.

After a pause, I nodded, glad momentarily that I was mute.

"I'm glad. I know you were staying in a motel at first … I know how impersonal that feels." He stopped as if he were struggling with a memory before shaking his head and returning to what he was doing. After shelving a few more volumes, he continued, knowing if he didn't want to sit in silence, he would have to be the one to speak. "When I first moved here with my family, we lived in hotels for quite a bit while we were waiting for our house to be finished."

There weren't many houses around here and none of them looked like they had been recently built nor refurbished. Everything here looked old and forgotten. Unless … unless there was a pocket of this town I hadn't discovered yet. Although, I doubted that. In my time here, I figured I had been just about everywhere. The town was so small everything was in walking distance, after all.

Seeing my confused expression, Edward continued. "My house was torn down eventually. The highway is pretty new. Before, this town didn't seem so distant. Once the highway was built however, it felt like we had been cut off from everything else. There used to be tons of little shops all around, and now … Well, now this is one of the only shops left. It just feels … so different than it used to. Even now, after so many years passed, I'm not used to it."

I nodded, and then stood up from my spot on the ground surrounded by stacks of books to grab a piece of paper from the desk. In the short time we had worked together, we had developed a mode of communication that felt very much like being in middle school. Except, I had never done anything so cutesy in middle school. For the past few weeks, Edward and I had been passing notes back and forth. Sometimes, we would have a pad of paper and would write back and forth to each other. While other times, Edward would read what I had to say and respond verbally, giving me the chance to hear his smooth, deep voice.

Gracelessly, I plopped down next to him, keeping a friendly distance between us, before I quickly scrolled out, "Change is always hard. I left home a while ago, and I'm still not used to it. It never seems to matter how much time has passed."

"Everyone says time heals all wounds but … I don't know. Regardless of how much time passes, all of my wounds feel fresh."

"Mine too," I wrote back.

"You know, if you ever want to talk to anyone, I'm here. About your past … about what happened recently …"

Then everything hit me at full force. As my mind became a fog—as my chest grew heavy—I watched Edward's mouth continue to move. I knew he was speaking, but I could no longer hear him. Everything felt like a blur. His words became a cacophony of vowels and consonants while none of them resonated nor even sounded like English. My stomach dropped as my vision blotted, like messy ink on paper.

"Bella?"

I heard him repeat my name again and again. Every time, his voice sounded increasingly concerned. My eyes closed as one of his hands came down to rest on my shoulder, squeezing the muscle in an effort to bring me back to the present moment. But the present moment seemed so far away.

Far beyond my fingertips.

I tried to breathe, but my throat felt as though it were closing up. Could someone feel claustrophobic inside their own body? My skin itched—flesh begging to be scratched until it bled. If only I could truly bleed out and be filled with something fresh; something that could make me feel born again.

With my eyes still closed, I saw the events of that one horrible night pass like a movie reel flashing across a screen. I could feel the men. I could smell them. I felt blood and flesh beneath my fingertips. Within seconds, I felt like I was fighting for my life all over again.

"Bella! Snap out of it! Please!"

Then, just like that, as if it were the result of magic, my eyes opened. Only then did I notice that I was sweating. My flesh was paler than usual, too, not even flushing with the way that my heart was beating out of my chest. As I sat there, coming down from the horrible high of that memory, I felt like I was near implosion.

Just like that, Edward wrapped his arms around me, holding me close as if we were something more than coworkers. His embrace was filled with a kindness that I had never experienced from a man before. When it came to men, I had never been touched in a way that wasn't sexual. Edward was different however. When he held me, he held me like a human being.

I rested my head on his shoulder as I waited for my heartbeat to return to a normal pace. While his grip on me loosened, he didn't let go. It seemed like he was waiting for me to shake him off, but if it were up to me, I never would. The feel of him was comforting. His arms around me made me feel like I wasn't alone in this world. At least, I wasn't alone tonight.

After a few minutes passed, the door chimed, and a customer walked in. Edward's arms slipped away from my shoulders before the old man venturing into the bookstore could notice us sitting on the floor. Edward stood up, and then reached out to help me do the same.

"Why don't you go to the restroom and freshen up. Sit in the break room if you want. Or … you can even take the rest of the night off if that would make you feel better."

I quickly shook my head at the latter. Being alone right now would be overwhelming. Usually, crying alone was all right—I was a suffer in silence type, after all—but tonight, I wanted the distraction. Even if that distraction only lasted as long as it took to close.

"Say … if you want, why don't you come up to my flat for dinner tonight? I could cook you something."

A flush covered my cheeks before I could hide it. The thought of being alone with Edward … Suddenly, my entire body felt warm. With a shy smile that I couldn't help, I nodded.

"Okay! After we close up, we'll go back to my place. I'll put on a movie for us and cook you whatever you'd like. How does that sound?"

After another eager smile from me, he smiled too. "Okay! Well, go take a break for a bit, and I'll come get you when we're ready to close." He adjusted his glasses, pushing them back in place, before he moved to greet the customer, who was now rummaging around in the aisle of new releases.

I retreated to the back, still thinking of Edward's touch as I left the floor. As soon as I was shut in the back room, I let myself breathe. A deep inhale and exhale later, and I was able to walk to the breakroom table and have a seat. Only then, alone in this room, did I allow my tears to fall. They trailed down my cheeks, falling to stain the light wood of the table. The more I cried, the more the weight on my chest lessened. Soon, my head was on the table, and I was drifting off to sleep.

"Bella? Bella? Wake up … I just closed up the shop."

Slowly, my eyes opened and found his gaze. Confused and disorientated, I broke our eye contact to gaze around, looking for a pen and pad of paper. As if reading my mind again, he spoke up before I even needed to write anything out.

"You've been back here for a little over an hour. I don't know how long you've been asleep though … Do you feel better, at least?"

With a sleepy smile, I nodded.

"Well, let me just count down the register and we can get going. You still want to come over, right?"

I nodded again, seeming more awake now due to my eagerness.

He chuckled at my expression before his lips upturned into a fond smile. "Give me a few minutes. You can gather your things, if you want."

Edward was so dorky and cute when he seemed excited about something, and he seemed very excited about tonight. Maybe a long time had passed since he last had company. Perhaps, like me, he was a loner. During the time we spent together at work, I never heard him talk about anyone. There had been no talk of family or friends. If he had someone special to him, he had never spoken of it.

If I were being honest, most of our conversations had been surface level. We talked mainly of our love for books and all things fantasy. Outside of that, we never delved deep into our personal lives. Of course, we were coworkers, after all. Not just coworkers—he was my boss. We couldn't just open up to each other about everything under the moon. I was sure that would be unprofessional.

Quickly, I gathered my things—I didn't have much—and went to the restroom to freshen up. While I didn't carry around makeup, I did have a brush to run through my hair. I wiped away the liner my tears had caused to smudge and applied a tinted lip balm that was as dark and rich as the fall season before heading back out to the main floor. Edward was finishing up counting the register and smiled as soon as he saw me. After typing a few things into the computer, he closed the cash drawer and stepped out from behind the counter.

"All done. You ready?"

I nodded before giving him a look that asked, "Did you need to grab your things?"

"All I bring is my wallet and keys, and I've got both." With a grin that made him look rather young and guileless all of the sudden, he said, "Come on. Follow me. I'll show you the building's secret passageway."

When my eyes widened, his smile grew. This place really did feel like something from a fairy tale. He took the lead, stepping forward and waving for me to follow him as he moved toward the back of the store. We passed by the classics section, moving toward the shelves of mythology, before coming to a door I had never opened in all of my time working here. There was a lock on the door, and while I never had access to open it, I had always assumed this door led to a closet every time I had passed it.

Edward pulled out his key and turned to give me an almost mischievous-looking smile in an effort to make me laugh. It worked, and I giggled with him as if we were both sharing a small secret before he unlocked the door and let it creak open.

Surprisingly, the room revealed really did look like a closet. There was a bucket along with a mop hanging next to it and a few shelves of cleaning supplies. After I gave him a questioning look, his smile grew, and he stepped inside, pushing on a door that blended in with the other two walls. The back wall opened, revealing a staircase.

My jaw dropped then, and my expression must have screamed, this really is a secret passageway!

"See, I didn't lie to you." He stepped onto the first step and waited for me. "Come on. Close the door behind you. It'll lock."

Edward started up the steps, and I couldn't help but pause to watch him. His figure was muscular without being overwhelming. His body was statuesque, and he moved in such an elegant way, even though it wasn't purposeful. He always seemed too cerebral and lost in his thoughts to care about how he appeared to other people. His beauty was natural—something that was filled with an ease and effortlessness.

My eyes remained on him as I followed him up the staircase, stealing looks while he wasn't looking. There was something intoxicating in the air. With every step I took, it really did feel like I was venturing up the staircase of a secret passageway to find myself in another realm. Of course, that "other realm" was the second floor of the building with hallways lined with apartments. I followed Edward to his, appreciating this time I had to watch him unnoticed.

Although I had already been in his apartment once, it was far different than the last time. Now, Edward was awake and moved around the place like a perfect, yet introverted, host. He seemed a bit shy about the lack of décor, but my smile seemed to ease his mind.

"I know it looks like I just moved in, but I've actually been living here for a while. I guess I've never been much of a decorator. So, if you have any advice … just jot it down for me. Seriously, I need all of the help I can get."

There were so many things I wanted to say as I took in the appearance of his empty walls. Things like, "Don't worry! Last time I was here, I promise I didn't judge you." or "Seriously, Edward? I'm living in a motel. I've never thought your house was horrible." This was another time when I was thankful that I couldn't find my voice. Edward obviously didn't remember that I had ever come here. He, too, didn't seem to remember that I was the woman who saved him from himself that night on this building's roof.

While part of me wanted to bring it all up, another part didn't want to say anything that would embarrass him or make him feel uncomfortable. As strangers, I had seen him in his most vulnerable state. If he didn't remember it, maybe that was for the best. Our friendship was blossoming now, and I didn't want to squander that with information that could've been easily left unsaid.

"So, what are you in the mood for tonight?" Edward asked as we entered his kitchen. He began to look through his fridge as if he were waiting for inspiration to spark. "What sort of food do you like?" Still looking through the fridge, it took him a moment to remember that I couldn't speak. Then, as if kicking himself, he turned to me and said, "sorry," before throwing out some food options. "I could make some pasta … or I could make chicken … or steak … or I could make a salad … or some veggies …"

Between every suggestion, he paused and waited a second for me to either nod or shake my head. Not really being in the mood for anything more than company, I shrugged at every option he threw my way, which caused him to sigh.

"I'm not good at making decisions either." He smiled as if he were pleased that we shared another thing in common outside of our love for books. "How about pasta and a salad. Is that all right?"

I nodded, smiling back at him so he would know that I was equally pleased.

"All right then! Perfect."

He closed the refrigerator door and moved to a cabinet, opening it up to reveal rocks glasses. He grabbed two, and then went to open a door next to the fridge, revealing a large walk-in pantry. One side of the pantry was all snacks and dry goods while another was filled with expensive-looking liquor. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the shelf, Blanton's, and then turned toward me.

"Would you like a drink? I can probably make you anything that you want. Everyone gives me liquor as gifts so, I've got a lot on hand."

I've never been one for drinking. I hated the way alcohol made me feel out of control. Already, I was easily frightened. Drunk, I felt like I was opening up myself to absolutely anything. While I never prevented others from drinking, I never felt too comfortable joining in. Alcohol may take the edge off for some, but for me, it only made my anxiety worsen. After the day I had—after the memories I had faced in public—I couldn't bear the thought of a single drop of liquor.

So, with a wry smile, I shook my head before dropping my gaze to the floor, not wanting to see Edward's reaction. Would he be disappointed that I chose not to drink with him? Would the rest of the night become uncomfortable for us? With my gaze still on the floor, I heard him place the bottle of Blanton's back onto the shelf. Then, his feet sounded as he moved across the floor, closing the distance between us. I felt him pause a foot away from me, and finally, I looked up to meet his gaze.

"I don't have to drink. It's fine, Bella. There's nothing to feel sad about."

Did I look sad? Were all of my bad memories surrounding alcohol clearly represented on my face? I hoped they weren't. No one should ever be so transparent. Maybe Edward just knew me well. Even though it didn't make sense, he seemed to know me as if we were old friends. Even silent, he seemed to pick up on exactly what I was thinking and feeling. I hoped that we would always exist like this.

Still using the rocks glass, Edward filled them with ice before grabbing a water pitcher from the fridge. He filled both glasses and offered one up to me.

"Is this better?"

With a shy smile, I nodded and took the glass. As I began to sip on the drink, hoping that the water would soothe my building nerves, Edward turned away from me and began to gather his ingredients. As he worked, I moved to sit on one of the stools surrounding the small island in his kitchen. So focused on the matter at hand, he looked sexy, dorky, and handsome all at once. He was still dressed for work, not even bothering to take off his vest, and constantly pushed up his glasses as he perused a recipe book. Once he finally came across a recipe he liked, he smiled and set the book down on the island.

Before he began to cook, he finally allowed himself a moment to relax. With his eyes scanning the kitchen, he slipped off his vest and folded it up before placing it on the counter, and then smiled as his gaze paused on a remote. He snatched the remote off the counter, pressed a button, and music filled the room. It was something classical—very much like the music he had played on the rooftop. I recognized the mellow notes of the song but couldn't remember the name. As the music reached its first crescendo, Edward closed his eyes and stretched his neck, and then seemed to be totally Zen as he moved his ingredients to the island and grabbed a cutting board and a knife.

There was something sexy about watching a man cook. Or, maybe, there was something sexy about watching Edward cook. Everything he did was so deliberate and precise. He was good with his hands—forceful while being delicate. On the cutting board, he quartered peppers and diced an onion before cutting an eggplant into inch-thick rounds. He grated two cloves of garlic into a glass bowl all while waiting for the water to boil for his penne. Already, things in the kitchen smelled overwhelmingly wonderful, and he had yet to start cooking.

"It's been a while since I had someone to cook for," he murmured as he began to grate Parmigiano-Reggiano. "It's been a while since I've had company over at all."

I nodded, and if it weren't for his grating, I would have been tempted to reach out and cover his hand with mine. Today, he had comforted me so much, and now, I wished I could comfort him.

"It's nice having someone here," he said, seemingly reading my mind again. "I've been alone for so long that I've forgotten all about how good it feels to have company."

I gave him a small smile, hoping it would convey all the words I couldn't express. It seemed like he was waiting for a response however, and as if realizing something, he pulled his gaze away from the cheese he was grating and looked up at me.

"Sorry. I forgot all about our pad of paper at the shop." His gaze then darted around the kitchen until it fell on the grocery list attached to the side of his fridge. Half of the page was unused, and seeing that, he put his grater and block of cheese down before venturing over to grab it. "Here. You can use this if you want." He then grabbed a pen from a drawer and plopped it down on the island next to the half-used piece of paper. "I know it's not much, but it'll do for now. I've got lots of journals around here. I'll grab one for you to use after dinner."

With a thankful smile, I grabbed the pen and began to write. "I've never been so excited to eat in my life."

Edward smiled as he read this and chuckled before he responded. "Oh, don't jinx me. This might be the worst meal you've ever had in your life."

"I doubt that," I wrote.

"Like I said, I'm out of practice."

"Still … the most I ever do is heat up frozen meals."

His eyes widened theatrically at this. "Let me teach you how to cook then. I mean, I can't have you living off of a diet of frozen food, after all."

I raised my brow at him, feeling almost flirty as I gave him a challenging gaze.

"I'm your boss. I've got to watch out for my employee."

I rolled my eyes, feeling more like myself than I had in a long time. Although … I never knew who "myself" even was. My attitude now was aligning with the woman I always wanted to be—witty, flirty, smart, and, most importantly, happy. For the first time, I felt as if I were living the life I should have always been living.

Even now, when things felt so dark and helpless, there was a small beam of light. Edward was that light. He was that small ray of hope that suggested happiness may not be too far off.

"Thanks for looking out for me."

"I try." He smiled. "I know you would do the same."

I have already, I wanted to write. Instead, I settled with, "Let's support each other then."

When he smiled this time, he looked younger. Almost as if the horrors of the world hadn't reached him yet. In this moment, did I appear younger too? Instead of a woman who looked as though she were running from something, did I finally look like one who was living—one who was both enjoying and experiencing life?

Finally, the water began to boil. Edward dropped his gaze from mine and looked almost shy as he smiled and stepped away to grab the box of pasta to pour into the water. Everything inside of me fluttered as heat rushed toward my cheeks.

I had never experienced a "spark" before. It always seemed like the sort of thing that was reserved for romance novels. The men who had marked me in the past had never given me a single spark. I never felt my heart race when I had looked at them. My insides never fluttered with a unique excitement. Now, looking at Edward, I felt all of the things I believed were exclusively fictional … and it scared me.

In the past, I had experienced nothing but hurt. Everything had left me with a bitter aftertaste of regret. Could Edward be any different? He was a man, after all. If I opened myself up to him, allowing myself to become vulnerable again, would I taste regret again? Would nights like this turn into memories I'd give anything to forget?

As I looked at Edward, a calm washed over me with a promise that there was nothing to worry about. Edward wasn't like the men I knew before now. He was his own breed. Still, there was part of me that wanted to crawl back to my motel room and hide away, using solitude as a means of protection. If I were alone, if I shut everything else out, I couldn't be hurt, after all. Would that be better though?

Would it be better to live and hurt than not live at all? Once, I had read somewhere that you couldn't experience and appreciate true happiness without also experiencing pain. Maybe this statement was true—although, I had no way of knowing. After experiencing so much pain, opening myself up for a chance at happiness felt daunting. If I allowed myself to be happy, even for a moment, wouldn't that make the pain even more unbearable? If I were to experience true happiness, I would just be learning what I was missing out on. Could I carry on like that? Knowing that happiness was out there and just not in my reach?

"I forgot how soothing cooking is," Edward commented as he began the finishing steps of his recipe. "The last person I cooked for … Well, the last people I cooked for were my family … and we would spend many nights just like this. I'd cook, and they'd watch—sometimes, they'd help, too. At the moment, the experience felt like nothing out of the ordinary, but now …" Edward trailed off before he shrugged and shook his head, seeming as if he were battling a particularly bad memory. "I guess now I wonder whether moments like this—the quiet ones that don't feel like anything out of the ordinary—are the most special."

Warmth flowed through me. I picked up the pen, responding to him quickly. "I agree. Moments like these are. Sometimes, it's the little things that we hold onto."

For better or for worse, these less than extraordinary moments can burrow into our minds until they became part of us. I was filled with memories, good and bad, but knew that this one, this moment in the kitchen with my handsome boss, would be uniquely significant. Later, when I was alone in my motel room, I would remember this almost as if I were here with him again and be able to tell myself that in this world, despite all of the darkness, I had a reliable stream of light.

A/N: If you want to make the pasta featured in this chapter:

Ingredients:

one pound penne pasta (or past a of choice)

¼ cup extra virgin olive oil

2 cloves garlic (grated)

1 teaspoon dried oregano

salt and pepper to taste

2 Aloha Peppers (quartered, seeded)

2 Wild Wonders Peppers (whole)

2 baby Eggplants (cut in 1-inch thick rounds)

1 red onion

¼ cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

2 tablespoons fresh basil (minced)

Instructions:

1. Preheat grill on high heat. Prepare pasta according to the package instructions and set aside

2. Peel the red onion and then slice into thick rounds. To keep the rounds intact while grilling, inert 2-3 toothpicks around the outside edge; set aside

3. While the grill is heating and the pasta is cooking, whisk together olive oil, garlic, oregano, and salt and pepper in a large mixing bowl. Add the vegetables to the bowl (peppers, eggplant, and onion) and toss well to coat.

4. Place vegetables on a single layer on the grill and cook until slightly charred and tender, about 5-6 minutes per side, flipping once. Keep the bowl and any reserved marinade next to your grill. When vegetables are done cooking, move from the grill and place back in the bowl with the reserved oil mixture.

5. When vegetables are cool enough to touch, remove from bowl and roughly chop into bite- sized pieces. Place back in the bowl and the reserved oil mixture and add in the cooked pasta. Add cheese and basil and toss. Check for seasoning and add salt and pepper to taste. Serve warm, room temperature, or chilled.