Alice lounges in the living room with her laptop, scrolling down the new arrivals page of Le Petit Trou with a concentrated expression, her gold, sparkly nails swiping along the trackpad leisurely.

She doesn't own anything quite as ruffly, lacy, or sheer as what they offer, but maybe she should. She clicks on a light pink bralette with little bows and tries to picture what it would look like on.

Maybe something with a bit more structure. She clicks back and scrolls down to something similar with more embellishment to it.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" Emmett asks from the foyer.

She flinches, startled. She didn't hear the door open, strangely enough.

She snaps the MacBook shut quickly and gets up from the couch. "Nothing. Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"Yeah, but the professor just handed out the syllabus and told us we're good to go. I decided to come back here for a bit before practice," he replies, going to the kitchen to grab something to eat out of the fridge. "I'm surprised you're back so early."

"I feel like being home today." She sighs. "Did you hear from Edward at all?"

"Nope. I'm sure he'll cave and text one of us by the end of the week, though, right? He can't shut up for that long. It would be a scientific anomaly."

She hasn't seen anything in terms of Edward returning. Her dreams the past few days have been muddy and unmemorable. Even if she tries, she can't get the smallest inkling of intuition to guide her. The only thing repeatedly coming to mind is that he doesn't want anything to do with her or his other friends right now.

If she thinks about it too much, she'll get a migraine. She hates how difficult he can be sometimes.

The thing that bothers her most is that she didn't see their fight or Jasper slipping up until it was right in front of her. Everything happened so quickly.

It's not a good feeling to have two of the most important people in her life not getting along with each other.

"I hope so," she says wistfully.

"If not, I guess we'll see him in April for Spring quarter, right?" Emmett shrugs, snacking on what looks like a piece of cheese wrapped in deli meat. She hasn't looked in the fridge recently. Maybe Esme made something last night, but it looks kind of strange to be one of her creations. "Is Jazz still on campus?"

"Yeah, he has classes until 4. And he's going to go see a counselor about internship options."

"Cool, cool." Emmett nods. "So I've been trying to think up date ideas for Rose, but I have no idea what she'd be into that isn't like the movies or a sports game. You're friends with her and you're a girl. What do you think would be a good idea?"

"Dinner at a nice upscale restaurant—like that one steak house on the water. Or a weekend trip to someplace fun like Santorini or Mallorca," she replies immediately.

"Uh, do I look like I have money for that?"

"I don't know. Check Pinterest or something then. I'm going to go start on my reading for Wednesday."

"You have reading already on the first day of class?"

"Mhm, bye," she replies, taking her laptop with her upstairs and returning to her room.

Alice checks her text messages for the hundredth time that day to make sure she didn't miss something from one of her friends, but there's nothing.

She pulls up Edward's number and starts typing out a message:

Hey, hope you got to Italy okay. I know you're probably still mad at me, but I wish you'd return my calls so I can explain. I would never do anything that would hurt you or any of our other friends. I'm sorry if it seems like I am.

She wants to text Bella, but she knows Edward would only be angrier with her if she did. She clearly already ignored his misguided advice more than he's comfortable with.

Grabbing her copy of Les Fleurs du Mal, she sits down on her bed and flips through the pages, skimming the words inattentively, highlighting things that look important. "Le Cygne"—The Swan—stares back at her like some sick joke. She jots down isolation and existential loss in the margin.

Her phone buzzes and she gets wildly excited for half a second before she sees that it's only Esme. She's asking if Alice is going to be around for dinner and if she feels like eating anything in particular.

Giving up on reading, she replies to the message saying she wants soup. She hits send and pulls her laptop back up to continue shopping.

...

"Alright, guys, we may have only won two games the entire season, but there's always next fall!" Emmett says enthusiastically, addressing the group of third graders standing around him in the middle of the park football field. "We have the next seven months to get ready to kick some aaaaa—butt! Yeah! Kick some butt!"

The kids stare at him with uncertain expressions, looking winded from the hour and a half of practice drills he put them through.

The parents sitting around on the sidelines reading and texting on their phones are starting to pack up.

"Coach, if we still lose next time, can we still get ice cream after the game?" one of the smaller boys asks.

"Yeah, sure! I mean, I don't see why not, but uh...that doesn't mean you guys can slack off. You have practice with Coach Dean tomorrow, then you're back with me Wednesday and Thursday, got it? Same time, same place!"

In a chorus of goodbyes, his team departs and he heads back toward his Jeep parked not far away.

It's a quarter past six and normally he'd go meet Rosalie for dinner, but she's on night shift for the next month. She punched in a few minutes ago, and won't be off until tomorrow morning.

He texts her to ask when her lunch break will be. Waiting for the car to heat up, he checks the Midnight Sun podcast listing and sees it's still not updated for the week. Edward must be taking a break.

Some friend he is. He didn't even say goodbye before he left the country. It's not the most spontaneous or dramatic thing he's ever done, though. It'll be fine. He'll be back soon enough.

Pulling up Snapchat, Emmett sends a picture of the empty playfield with the caption "Day 1 of winter quarter: kids are already asking for consolation ice cream" to Edward.

He listens to Destiny's Child on the drive back and stops to get a pizza before going home. He parks along the curb in his usual spot under the big tree that's always dropping sap and gross stuff on his windshield. Between Carlisle, Esme, and Edward with his two cars, the house's three-car garage is always full, but Emmett doesn't mind.

He walks up the dimly lit stone path to the house and goes to his room first to toss his backpack and football gear on the floor.

Esme, Carlisle, Alice, and Jasper are all gathered around the kitchen counter island eating and talking. Emmett sets the pizza box on the counter and grabs a bowl of soup from the stove to eat with it.

"Did you see there's a snow advisory for this weekend?" Carlisle asks, changing the topic from some previous discussion about a TV show Emmett hasn't seen.

Emmett did. He loves snow. "Oh, yeah! I hope it does!"

"Does it snow a lot here?" Jasper asks.

Esme answers. "Usually it's just a light dusting. Everything shuts down because the roads get slippery with all the hills, though. You have to be really careful about ice patches."

Emmett laughs, looking at Alice.

She rolls her eyes. "It was one time."

"Yeah, one time you totaled Edward's car! Ha!" He snorts. "The look on his face when you had it towed back into the driveway like nothing happened was priceless."

"I was going to tell him! My stock portfolio was in danger! I needed to sell before the market closed. And there was a sample sale downtown I had to get to," Alice whines.

"And we're all very glad you didn't get hurt," Esme says in an attempt to mediate.

Emmett's having way too much fun teasing her. "Still not as good as the reaction you got when you showed up out of nowhere and took his room while he was at his summer piano camp thing."

Alice gets up from her seat and leaves without finishing her food. Jasper goes after her unhurriedly, Carlisle sighs, and Esme shoots Emmett her disappointed mom look.

"Alice, I was kidding! Come back!" he hollers. "Jeez, she's sensitive."

He was expecting her to give him shit back. Normally she has more pep.

"She feels like she's the reason why Edward left," Esme explains softly so that Alice—if she's still within earshot and listening—can't overhear.

"How was I supposed to know that?"

Carlisle's brows crinkle together and he tilts his head skeptically. "Did you miss the last half-hour of the New Year's Eve party?"

"They were being serious?" he says in disbelief. "That's so stupid, though. Why would an argument with Alice and Jasper prompt him to go to Europe? He and Alice are best friends."

"He's been under a lot of stress lately. New relationships are difficult, and he's been taking twenty credit quarters to graduate early." Esme frowns more. "I'm not saying it's what I would do, but that's kind of how he is."

"Well, shit." Emmett exhales through his mouth loudly and scratches his head. "I guess his disappearing act is a big deal."

...

Rosalie pushes the door to the stairwell open and walks down to the cafeteria for her first fifteen-minute break of the night.

It's only eight-thirty and she's already wiped. She wasn't able to sleep during the day, and her lack of rest is catching up with her.

She grabs a coffee and a banana and sits at one of the tables.

On her phone, she has an email from the lawyer in New York that she hired last weekend. He's letting her know some time slots she can come in to meet in the upcoming month. The cost is high, but he's supposedly very good at what he does. From the brief introductory call they had together, she feels confident that he'll be able to represent her well.

In anticipation of a flurry of chatter amongst her East Coast social circle, she set her Instagram account to private and pared down her friends list. She doesn't feel like any amount of mental preparation is going to be enough, but she's willing to try anything that will make the process easier.

She can schedule that appointment later, though. She closes the email and pulls up an unread text from Emmett. *When's your lunch? I'll bring you food."

She tries to resist the urge to scrunch her brows together but scowls anyway. Really late. You have class tomorrow. Don't worry about it, she replies.

Okay, but what time? Esme made minestrone from scratch. Are you sure you don't want any? There's also zucchini bread...and pizza... he sends back.

If he wants to drive across town in the middle of the night, then so be it. Wasting sleep for a half-hour together is stupid.

Fine. If you're still awake by then, it'll be around one, she types reluctantly. With their conflicting schedules, she didn't think she'd see him until at least Thursday night.

Truthfully, she could use a hug, and she is a little glad that he does want to see her. Offering to forgo sensibility to do something stupidly inconvenient yet nice isn't something she sees others do often. Usually, she'll just get a third-party delivery or a phone call from whoever it is that needs to reach her from afar.

It's troubling.

She appreciates how patient Emmett's been with her, but at the same time, she wonders exactly how much he's able to put up with. She has a lot on her plate right now, and it's making everything—including their relationship—very stop-and-go.

She's finally back in a regular work routine, and she wouldn't say her life is bad, but the past few months have been the most stressful time in her life.

Originally she just wanted things to go back to normal, but she isn't sure that the old Rosalie would have been happy back in New York even if she never met Royce. She was so unaware. So completely blind to anything other than her own superficial sources of happiness and social standing.

If not Royce, then some other golf-obsessed, country-club-frequenting, rich boy with a boat and a Rolex for every day of the week. Would she ever be able to find one that would love her as more than some shiny accessory?

She's never had to rely on having something like a good personality, creativity, or humor to get much of anything in life. She's smart, sure, but her job and diploma are just more pageantries for her parents to show off. She stands there looking pretty and gets virtually anything she wants because of it.

Anything but true love. That's her glaring defect. She'll never be truly loved.

A shiver creeps up her spine as she stares outside the domed glass ceiling of the cafeteria. An expanse of darkness leads out into downtown and the city.

Rosalie finishes her snack and checks her appearance in the front camera of her phone.

She tugs a couple of strands loose from the chignon at the base of her neck, trying to make it look more styled and less boring. She could use a heavier touch of concealer under her eyes and some blush. She skimped on makeup tonight. She needs to grab a multi-use lip and cheek tint to put in her bag before her next shift.

The hospital is quiet tonight, so at least she doesn't have to deal with many people.

She folds her arms over the cafeteria table, making them into a make-shift pillow to rest her head.

It would be more than nice if she was cozy, warm, and safe in bed right now, drifting off to sleep.

Not in her apartment, but in a little house out in the suburbs with a white picket fence and roses lining the yard. It would be a three-bedroom—so there was space for the children—with hardwood floors, high ceilings, and a two-car garage.

She could have friends over for barbeques in the summer and holiday parties in the winter. Maybe she'd take up some kind of leisurely, useless hobby for fun like ceramics or flower arranging.

Beep-beep. Beep-beep.

Her phone timer goes off, marking the end of her break. She sits back up with a groan and starts back toward the nurse station.

...

Emmett's not the slightest bit tired, but nighttime is moving by at a snail's pace because he actually has something to look forward to.

Any other day, it's like he blinks and the sun is rising already. He'll think he's spending ten minutes scrolling through some memes and it's suddenly ten hours later. His friends will ask if he wants to grab one drink, and then he's bar hopping and playing laser tag until it's time for his first class of the morning.

For some people, time flies when they're having fun. When Emmett's having fun, though, it's basically rocketing out of Earth's gravitational pull.

Not tonight, though.

He browses through some cringey date ideas on Pinterest for a while before deciding his own ideas—though predictable—are better. Rosalie would laugh him off the planet if he tried to get her to build a pillow fort or staged a faux prom night.

He wonders if she likes arcades or theme parks.

She's been in a weird mood, and he's pretty sure it's related to the case she mentioned she'd be filing against her ex.

He's in the dark for the most part on the finer details of his girlfriend's life, but even if she did tell him everything, he probably wouldn't know what to do. And that might be why she doesn't bother.

Skipping over a Britney Spears song to a Tina Turner bop, he continues to browse through more crappy date ideas just for the fun of it.

"Kite flying and comedy clubs? Please!" This is worse than anything Edward could ever think up.

Alice is right, going someplace like Santorini would be nice. Especially when it's going to be rainy and cold in Washington for at least another three months. He should try to start a savings account for that kind of stuff.

With what he's earning now, though, it would take him another ten years to get a single plane ticket.

"Ugh, being broke sucks."

He looks up at the clock on his screen and decides it's close enough to Rosalie's break time to go. He grabs food from downstairs as promised and drives to First Hill.

When he gets to the cafeteria, he finds Rosalie already sitting at a table by the windows in navy blue scrubs. She's reading some kind of paperwork, so she doesn't see him until he sits down beside her.

"Hello, Beautiful," he greets, placing the lunch he brought in front of her.

Her brows raise up in surprise when she sees him. "I didn't think you'd actually show up."

"Pfft, when have I ever stood you up?"

She rolls her eyes and hugs him, hanging on for longer than she usually does. He takes the opportunity to smooch the side of her face. She smells mostly like antiseptic, but he catches the faintest hint of perfume on her skin.

"I want this week to be over," she grumbles. "I started my training over in the PICU, so I have to get to know a bunch of new people. It's annoying."

"PICU? Like the Pokemon?"

"Pediatrics intensive care unit. It's not quite as fast-paced as the ER. Fewer patients come in and out, and they're all kids, obviously," she says, opening the soup thermos and eating a spoonful of minestrone.

"Ohh. Got it, okay."

"How was class?"

"Spanish without Edward sucks, and I didn't do much in business management," he relays. "Trying to get from practice at the stadium over to the playfield for coaching was brutal."

"How often are you doing that?"

"Coaching? Three days a week. I tried to pick up more hours this quarter since it's the off-season. It's their off-season too, but whatever."

"Does it pay well?"

"Uh...not really, but I don't have to do much except tell them to run around and stuff. They're like eight- and nine-year-olds."

She shrugs and eats another spoonful of soup. "This is good."

"Yeah, Esme's a solid cook," he agrees. "It's way better than anything I could make."

"I don't cook much either. It takes too much time."

"She taught me how to grill a couple of summers back, which was cool. Count me out for anything without a fire involved, though," he says, resting his head against her shoulder, his arm stretched out along the back of her chair. On the tabletop, Rosalie's phone lights up and he notices that her lunch timer is already over halfway through.

"Can I come see you tomorrow too?" he asks.

She nods in response, still busy eating.

He doesn't want to wait until her days off to spend time with her again, so he's willing to put in the effort to coordinate schedules when possible. He's still not used to being in a more serious relationship, but he wants it to work. It's kind of fun.

Rosalie's someone he can see himself staying with long-term. He likes her brutally honest commentary and fierce sense of humor. They make her softer moments—like when she reaches out to hold his hand while they watch movies or how she tries to hide her smile when he tells a dumb joke—that much sweeter.