Chapter 39

"We're far from the shallow now…"

By Lady Gaga and Bradly Cooper.

Boring AN: Hi ladies:) I'm really sorry about the delay, but sometimes life just gets in the way. It's been a terrible year for me... let's get back to writing and hope that somehow everything is going to turn out alright.

How much worse can I make things? I drove carefully back the dirt road, as I wasn't going back in a hurry. I knew I couldn't face Edward yet.

Especially after what you did, the voice of reason warned me.

"I didn't do anything terribly wrong. We kissed, that's all," I shamelessly lied to myself. We didn't almost make love. I would never let it go that far…

You were enjoying it, weren't you? Did you really want him to stop?

"There's so much history between us and I just needed the comfort."

And he was a great lover.

"He's great! I'm not going to compare them… How can I?"

Edward is dangerous, the kind of man who you know is wrong for you but that you can't seem to help yourself. Jacob, on the other hand, was always attentive, gentle…

"And he's in the past. At least he was until I dug him out and it's a bloodcurdling misstep. I deserve to be in this ridiculous situation."

Jesus, you're a cheat. And you just had the worst second proposal ever in less than a month.

"I'm a cheat. Jesus, the Tanya thing was nothing compared to this."

I was so ashamed of myself that I forgot why I was mad at Edward in the first place. But Jacob's words came back to me, "you have to know how I feel about you. I love you for you. Not for what you have. Can Edward claim the same thing? Would he stay with you if you gave all that fortune away?"

Would he? That's the billion-dollar question, wasn't it? What would he do if I just gave it all up? The idea played in my mind for a while. What if I told him about Jacob? I knew the decent thing to do was, to be honest about it, so it wasn't about how, but when. He deserved to know. But what would he do? How would he use that knowledge? Would he use it against Jacob?

Why are you even considering marrying a man you fear might hurt one of your closest friends? That continuously aggravating voice in my head persisted.

A friend who I almost slept with… And who proposed. And who deluded himself to think he's still in love with me in the same way I deluded myself into thinking that going to him could be a quick fix for everything wrong in my life.

"Damn it all. When did going for the easy solution ever helped me?"

I couldn't go back home yet and face Edward. Would he even be there? The fuel tank was full, I wasn't sleepy, so I found myself driving to Seattle. It took me a bit over six hours to get there, considering the times I had to stop for coffee and a little power nap. After half an hour of sleep, my thoughts became a little more coherent, and I texted Edward around 6 a.m. to let him know where I was and that I'd meet him after Alice was discharged from hospital.

An hour later, my dad called frantic with worry because when he woke up, he realized that his car was gone, and my room was empty.

"Edward is not there?" I asked.

"No, he's not. He was a bit more considerate than you and left me a note in the kitchen to let me know that he drove back to Seattle. Is everything okay with Alice? At first, I thought you might be together, but if you were, why'd you need to take my car as well?"

"I'm in Seattle as well. We had a bit of a misunderstanding yesterday, so I decided to come early."

"A bit of a misunderstanding? I heard when you left with a bang, but I supposed you just went out for some air or something. I didn't get out of bed because I didn't want to interfere. You had to drive all night to be in Seattle already. What were you thinking, Bells?" I could see he was trying hard to control his irritation.

"I wasn't… thinking I mean. Dad, I just had a huge argument with Edward because we're not really in sync about what to do next. I just don't want to be pushed into anything now." I decided to go for the truth.

"That's a bit vague. You'll have to do better than that."

"It's just that he wants us to move to England and I'm not sure I'm ready to go yet."

"Yet?" He noticed my Freudian slip. "Something must have changed your mind tonight…"

"What?" I asked dumbfounded.

"You said you weren't ready to go yet. So, that means that at some point, you were considering the possibility."

"I guess I am. I always figured I'd move there after I finished my residency. It made sense. Now, I'm not sure what I want to do anymore."

"And what's different now?" He asked after a pause.

"I've realized that running from my problems won't make them go away," I said eventually. It took a hell of a long drive to get to that point.

"Well, you didn't have to go out in the middle of the night to figure that one out," my dad told me as a matter of fact. "It's dangerous, and you have to stop doing this to me. The little black hair I had left went grey this past week."

"Sorry, dad."

"You better damn be." Because I didn't say anything else, he decided not to push me any further. "Will you call me later?"

"Sure. I really am sorry I worried you, dad."

"Make sure you do. I don't care how much money you have, I'm still your father!"

Great, another man in my life was furious at you.

The sun was high in the sky when I finally made it back to my apartment. I drove there entirely on automatic, and it was only when I was about to turn to my garage driveway that I realized I forgot there would be no home to return to. My house was still a crime scene under investigation. I didn't know if I could go back, I'd have to check.

I stared at it for a long time, bewildered an unable to decide what to do next. There was this persisting and growing impression that my heart was pulsating inside my head, and I could imagine every superficial artery and capillary under my skin. After suffering a not so mild concussion, sleep deprivation, and an unsurmountable amount of caffeine hadn't been part of the prescription.

I had to clean up my act and start solving problems quickly. Bearing that in mind, I decided to call Mathew, who had been released by the police only a couple of days before. They weren't pressing any charges for the time being, but he was advised to stay around.

"Hey, I had my phone in my hand and was wondering when it would be okay to call you," he answered promptly.

"How are you? I should have called you before, I'm sorry."

It took him a while to answer, and I feared I had asked the wrong question when he finally said, "I'm praying Jonny doesn't die."

I hadn't thought much about that monster, but even if I wished for the same, my motivation was different from his.

"I've called a colleague yesterday to know more about him. I don't know many details, only that he's still in ICU, but there's actually a good chance he'll make it."

"I've never killed anyone before…" He sighed. His voice was rougher than I remembered.

"I know." I didn't know what to do or what to say. Nothing really came to mind. "I'm in Seattle, so can I buy you breakfast? I could eat."

"Yeah, I haven't been eating much ever since…" his voice broke off.

"Where are you staying?"

He named a hotel that Greta frequently booked when she came over to Seattle. The ever-efficient Greta made sure Mathew was well taken care of. I was embarrassed I hadn't thought of it myself after I was discharged from hospital.

"Why don't I meet you there? I'm sure they have a decent restaurant where we can grab a bite and talk."

I quickly googled and booked an executive suite at the same hotel; it was nice enough with extra space without being too opulent, and it happened to be conveniently close to the hospital as well. As I drove there, I began worrying that Edward hadn't texted or called yet and a sense of dread eroded, even more, the thin thread I was hanging from. He was already mad enough without knowing about my little stunt.

Guilt was a potent catalyst to decision making. So, first things first, ascertain that Mathew was okay and give him a well-deserved paid leave. I couldn't keep him as close as before. I knew he harbored feelings for me, but I've disregarded Edward's unease about it because Mathew was one of the few people whose loyalty I didn't question. I was hoping that my fiancée would see it as it was, to atone for what I've done.

Why would you tell him? Does he really have to know?

"Yes, he does." I'd had enough with the lies.

About an hour later, I was showered and somewhat revived, even if I still was in yesterday's clothes, waiting for Mathew in the hotel's restaurant for breakfast. I didn't immediately recognize him when he came in my direction, he seemed a couple of inches shorter, and his usual gaiety was gone. Deep dark circles contrasted with his white conjunctiva giving him probably the same air of despair I had because the first thing he told me was that I looked like hell.

"Thank you, so do you," I tried to tease.

"Where's the fiancé?" He asked suddenly.

"Taking care of his sister." I think.

"I'm glad to see you," he breathed as he took my hand into his over the table. I squeezed it gently, trying no to repel him abruptly and softly let it go and took a sip of my orange juice.

"Me too. I'm ashamed I hadn't seen you before today. I really need to say thank you, you saved my life and I cannot ever repay you for that." Out of nowhere, my eyes watered, and it took all my strength not to start crying in a very public place. "I'm so sorry about what I put you through."

"Bella," he interrupted me, "it's my job, and I didn't do much of a good one considering that I let a lunatic enter your house and…"

"Stop, don't even go there. If someone is to blame, it was Holly. We trusted the wrong person. But it was a lesson well learned. I'm sure it'll never happen again."

"No, of course not…"

"I'm not implying anything by this, please. I'm not questioning your competence at all. I've learned my lesson, as well. It just seems to me that everyone wants to see me dead nowadays."

"Don't say that. Please…" Mathew held my hand again, and I let him because we both needed the comfort. "Bella, you have to know how much I care for you…"

He looked me in the eyes so lovingly as he said that, the same way Jacob looked at me the night before and I knew he was about to say something that could never be unsaid, so I stopped him in a hurry.

"Mathew, don't. Please. We just went through the most traumatic experience together, and it's messing us up. We shouldn't have this sort of conversation because we're both confused and…"

"I'm not confused," he interrupted me abruptly, "but I can see you're not interested in what I have to tell you. You have to know how I feel about you, aside from spelling it all out, I think I made my actions very clear."

"You're right, you did. And I should have been more upfront about my feelings. I care about you, I owe you my life, how can I not care about you? I think you're an amazing person and I worry about you. For the last few months, I felt you're one of the few people in the world I can trust."

He tore his eyes away from me, his sight unfocused, and he ripped his hand off mine. He stood there, in silence.

"The connection I felt; it wasn't one-sided." His eyes bore to mine again, and he asked very directly, holding my gaze. "Could you ever love me?"

My heart constricted at the sight of the broken man in front of me.

I made this, and I can never make things right for him.

"Not in the way you deserve. I don't think I have it in me, you know?"

And at that moment, sitting with Mathew, the most selfless, trustworthy and handsome man I had ever or would ever encounter in my life, had the most heartbreaking epiphany that would accompany me for the rest of my life.

"What?"

"The ability to love wholeheartedly."

There wasn't much of a conversation afterward. I insisted that he should eat, and tried to have something as well, just to pretend some sort of normalcy. I told him I decided to move to England permanently as it solved many of my problems and how I felt unable to finish my residency program in the US.

"If I can't take care of myself properly, I don't think I'm fit to take care of others," I told him as evenly as I could.

"I think that's a wise decision," he hesitated a bit before continuing, "to take a break I mean. I don't think going to England is going to be what you're hoping it to be. But I'm not bitter enough to wish to be right about this."

"Will you let me know if you need anything? Anything at all."

"Bella, you can't give me what I need…"

"No, I can't give you what you want now, but someday I hope we'll be in a place where I'll be able to give you something that you really need. And I'll be there for you if you want me to."

We said goodbye, and it was a heart-wrenching experience for me, why did I keep hurting people this way? Will Edward ever forgive me?

I called Edward again around noon, for the fourth time that day and was about to give up when he picked up. He didn't speak immediately, so I thought I went to voicemail and had a cartoon moment when I rechecked a few times the screen on my mobile phone.

"Edward, are you there?" Maybe he has his cell in his pocket and inadvertently picked up the call. I was about to give up and disconnect when he finally answered.

"I'm here."

"Where are you?" I asked.

"Hospital. Alice is about to be discharged. Our mother is here as well to accompany Alice back to England. She decided to fly later this afternoon to New York, and they'll catch a flight to London tomorrow so they'll go from here straight to the airport."

"That's a bit sudden," I commented. Was Alice okay to fly back to England already?

"Well, it's what she wants, and my mom agreed to it, so…" he stopped talking for a bit, and I heard a muffled sound in the background like he was walking. "My mother was standing next to me, and I didn't tell her I had no idea where you were. Where are you anyway?"

"If you've picked up the phone before…" I started accusingly.

"I spent all morning talking to different therapists and having things worked out for my sister. My phone was in silent mode. I read your text, so I decided to call you after I had everything sorted. As far as I know, you're still mad at me, and I wasn't exactly in a place where I could talk to you."

I couldn't argue with that. It was my guilty conscience that made me read more into it, then I should.

"I'm in Seattle now. I drove here… and I forgot I couldn't go home yet, so I'm staying at a hotel a block away from the hospital."

"Oh, okay." He was surprised. "Why would you want to go back to the apartment? I reckon we should put it in the market as soon as possible. Look… I'll have to drive them to the airport soon, so I'll meet you later. I'm excited to spend a night in a bed built for two people and not having your father across a thin wall. The things that make me happy nowadays…"

"Okay, but don't you think I should meet you at the hospital?"

"I'm not sure Alice wants to see you today. She's been dodging answering me. Maybe she's feeling a bit guilty about everything that happened and Alice, being Alice, tends to avoid things that she's… unable to cope with? I don't know."

I sighed heavily because I was a bit disappointed, but I couldn't say it surprised me. Maybe it was for the best, I mean, did I really have something constructive to say? I have put myself together if I wanted to be a good friend.

"I'll text her to let her know I'm thinking about her. We'll be together soon enough, I hope."

"Of course you will. I'll see you later."

"Okay, see you later."

I was about to disconnect the call, hoping that I'd be brave enough to tell him what I did… a part of me was hoping he'd go with them so I could have more time to figure out what to say, how to say it… How to convince myself why telling him the truth was such a bad idea.

"Bella?"

"Yes?"

"I love you. Things will start to brighten up for us in the future, I know we can make it work. All this shit around us, it's just white noise."

"I hope so. And Edward? I love you too."

Waiting that afternoon was torture. I paced around the hotel room with cold sweats; I couldn't concentrate on anything: reading, studying, not even watching TV. I settled for reading and answering some emails. I called Professor Walker and Greta to let them know I'd be returning to England soon. That was the highest point of the day, how glad they were. They seemed… relieved. I was ashamed that I dragged them away from their homes and families, and it never crossed my mind what it meant for them having to commute between the US and the UK so frequently. They asked for how long and I was evasive. It would all depend on the result of my conversation with Edward later that day.

In the constant hurry and mess my life became since I decided that I could do anything and everything, how selfish have I become in the last months?

When Edward finally called me saying that he was coming back to the hotel, my hands became clammy. I had finally settled somewhat, and all that anxiety returned in a blink of an eye.

When he entered the room, I was on the edge of my sanity; I was sitting in a couch facing the door, my feet moving up and down in a nervous twitch for about fifteen minutes and I jumped out of my sit, propelled by the need to just end my misery.

Or make everything worse. You're jittery because you're about to make a terrible mistake.

"You've been waiting for me?" He said amused as he closed the door behind him. "I'm so happy that you're here. You can't just slam the door like that. I was furious at first, but then I was worried because you didn't come back and your father's car doesn't have a GPS tracking system. And later I was furious again, and now you'll be as well when I tell you that it's just such a terrible feminine guile to go away without a trace behind and leave havoc, knowing how worried everyone is going to be."

He was right, I was mad at his machismo, but what I had to say was so much worse.

"Edward, we need to talk, so sit down. You're not going to like this but it's killing me and I have to tell you because I'll never live with myself if I don't." I said hurriedly in a single breath.

He stopped and stared for a while clearly bracing for the worst before replying "if you don't mind, I'd rather stand. I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"No…" I breathed out and turned around facing the window. I just couldn't meet him.

"I did something stupid, that I'm very ashamed about, and you can't imagine how sorry I am and how ashamed of myself. There's no excuse, so I'm not going to give you one."

"Okay… I'm listening, but I'd rather have you looking at my face and not outside the window."

He answered with lethal cool. I faced him slowly and detected the tension in his body only by his jugular prominence.

"What did you do?" I swallowed hard, and my voice was stuck in my throat. And I could tell when it suddenly hit him the nature of the announcement I was having trouble making because he leaned forward slightly, took an aggressive posture before saying quietly through his teeth "where do you spend the night?" I knew that the calmness he tried to input in his tone was only a deception.

"I spent the night driving to Seattle," at least a portion of it.

"Did you sleep with Mathew?" He added in the same tone.

"God, no! Of course not!"

"Then, what it is? Aside from that, I don't know what could be causing so much drama… I'm sure you're not pregnant either, so? What is it?"

"Yesterday I was, and I found myself driving aimlessly. Somehow, I went to Jacob's house… you know him, he's one of my closest childhood friends, and he lives near Forks and…"

"Fuck, I don't care where he lives! Just go to the part where I'll be distraught," he said sarcastically.

"We talked, and he listened. We used to date… when we were teenagers. I guess it got confusing and somehow we ended up kissing."

"Kissing? Just kissing?"

"Yes."

"Did you sleep with him?"

"No, we just kissed. And I ended up running out of there before it got out of hand…"

"And let's make this clear, you have slept with him before?" his modulation became rougher like he was on the verge of yelling.

"I have before, a long time ago, but not tonight," I answered truthfully. I was horrified that Edward might want some extra details.

"Why would you go to an ex-boyfriend's house when you get upset with your fiancé? And then, if you're to be believed and nothing really happened, then why are you telling me this? To get back at me?"

"No, of course not. It was like… a knee-jerk response. And I'm at fault here… I just can't stand to be here with you and lie." He looked astonished by my sincerity. "Would you prefer I did not tell you?" I asked unevenly. I hated how my voice trembled.

"If it was just an inconsequential kiss, then no, I don't want to know. Why are you so intent on hurting my feelings? Is this still about Tanya? Well, congratulations, I know how it feels now, and I hate it. But you have to consider that we weren't even in a relationship when that shit happened."

"Would we be in a relationship now if Henry hadn't changed his will?" It always came back to this terrible fear.

"What sort of answer do you want? I'll be damned no matter what I say. Honestly, I can't say that we would be together if not for Henry. We didn't spend much time together in Sydney. I fancied you, was intrigued by you the moment I saw your picture in Rosalie's office. But it was lust, mostly – the kind of lust that made want to do very crude and basic things to you. That's not what love is. We would never have had the chance to know if that primal emotion would turn into anything else. The most likely alternative scenario is that we'd shag, you'd feel guilty about it and tell yourself I was the rebound guy. I'd have fond memories of you, depending on your performance but would ultimately end up married to a convenient wife a decade from now. Someone who shared my background. I was never a hypocrite about this, you are!"

I scoffed at the thought, but his candidness left me incapable of replying. So, he went on with his ramble.

"Well, and in this scenario, you'd probably go back to Seattle, finish your bloody residency and become Mrs. Jacob something or other. The only thing I'd be to you was an adventure that would make you blush twenty years from now. That's what would have happened if Henry hadn't been besotted by you. Is there any man around you who isn't?" He accused before continuing with his original line of thought. "Our turning point was that cold night when I took you out of a nearly frozen river, and we almost died of hypothermia. You became so much more to me. Unexpectedly, it was not about lust anymore. Hell, even if I wanted to, it would have been challenging to have any physical response at first, aside from the intense shivering from the cold. Holding you in my arms just made sense. Call it fate, or whatever you prefer, but at that moment I had the what may seem like ludicrous to you now that we were meant to be."

"It was a survival instinct," I told him bleakly. It hurt to hear him talk like this, but I deserved it.

"It was more than that for you as well. We have always felt this mad pull between each other. Let's just be grateful for what we have. I reckon I'm probably the only bloke of my social standing doomed to marry the woman he loves. How much trouble are you going to be?" He tried to tease, but it came out somber. "Are you asking me for forgiveness? You do not seem overly contrite."

"I'm sorry, I'm ashamed of myself. I was confused and so angry at you. My life is a mess, and I directed all my frustrations in your direction. I drove there because I needed a friend. It was stupid, I recognize that now, but what Jacob and I had was long gone. And it got me thinking as I was running out of there, panicking about how I'd tell you, how you'd react because there's no way I would not tell you. And the irony that I almost became a cheat… I, who knew how much it hurt to be betrayed in such a way… And what I mean to say is that being afraid of losing you, made me realize how much I love you, and how I don't want to lose you; that maybe I have to compromise more to make things work. I keep pushing you away because I'm afraid that I'm not enough to hold you… that the money is my main appeal. It says a lot about me, I know. And it hurts to hear you say the things that you did because you're right, and I'm sorry." I was crying at the end of this speech. I could imagine him leaving, and I couldn't blame him. "I'm really sorry!"

"I will forgive you, if you ask me to, on the condition that you'll promise to never go to this guy again, in any circumstance. I mean it – NO MATTER WHAT. That part of your life is over, I trust you will let him know that. There is no other way we can move beyond this. And because you just said you're willing to compromise, then I think we should consider changing our living accommodations. The reasonable thing is to move to London. It's your turn to show me that you are as committed to me as I am to you."

"I'm not trying to hurt you. But how can I not? I thought you were going to ask for some time apart to think things through. It's only fair if you do…" I mumbled. But saying the words aloud, that he might want to time for himself, made everything so real. Just the thought of it made me panic.

"Bella, have you heard anything I said?" he sighed. "Time apart will only keep us separated. I'm never going to risk that again. I've learned my lesson. You came out clean, and just by looking at your face, I know you'll never even look again twice at another man. We'll never say another word on this subject, as long as you'll never see or talk to this guy again. That being said, I'll just leave you one last warning, I won't be so forgiving if there's a next time."

It took me a moment to gather my wits after his speech. Apparently, guilt and shame were potent catalysts for profound life changes. I made my bed, I had to lay in it, and sometimes you must face losing something to realize you can't afford to lose it at all.