Reiterating once again-people can be idiots and still be redeemable. That's all :)
fever dream
11
It takes the nurse on shift a while to get to Edward, so I text Riley and tell him to go home; I'll wait and get a cab with Edward once he's been patched up.
Call me if he gets out of hand.
I snort, watching Edward flirt clumsily with the nurse trying valiantly to keep him still while she sutures the gash in his jaw.
When is he NOT out of hand?
"Bella—"
"Shush, Edward. The nurse needs you to keep still."
Finally, he's quiet; the nurse shoots me the most grateful smile I've ever seen, exhaustion ringing her eyes. When we eventually escape the hospital an hour later, Edward's prescription tucked in my back pocket and his lids drooping as he sags against me, I debate my options.
There's no way I'm taking him back to my house to sober up, possible concussion or not.
"Do you have your keys?"
Patting his pockets, he nods toward the parking garage. "Uh-huh. Truck's over there."
"You drove?" He grunts when I slap his arm, torn between furious and petrified. "Are you kidding me, Edward? You...you know better!"
Grumbling, he shrugs and starts staggering off toward the parking lot, streetlights turning his hair copper as he passes under each one. "If you're just gonna beat on me I can take myself home."
I can't…
I don't even recognize him right now.
Trailing after him, I snatch the keys from his hands before he can climb into the cab, climbing into the driver's side and slamming the door for good measure; in the corner of my eye I see him wince at the sound. Good. Moron should suffer a little after being so fucking stupid.
He could have killed somebody. Himself. It feels like someone is sitting on my chest, the pressure making it hard to breathe, when I even consider the possibility of him not being here.
The drive back to his loft doesn't take long. It's late, after midnight now, and the streets are empty except for the people stumbling between bars. As I listen to the garage door closing behind us, I look over at Edward and realize he's fallen asleep.
Unfairly long lashes rest against his cheekbones, lips parted just a little. The bottom one is fat, angry red split somehow looking even worse in the low garage lighting than it did in the harsh fluorescents of the hospital. I reach up, my touch whisper-soft as I brush a strand of hair back off his forehead, the shadow of a bruise spreading around his closed eye.
Edward...what did you do? I wonder, a nagging feeling in the pit of my gut telling me this is my fault even though I haven't actually seen or spoken to him in over a week.
"Edward," I whisper, fingertips hovering on his skin, the warmth of him seeping right through to my bones. It's been so long since I touched him, since we were this close.
It's dangerous, my subconscious whispers as he stirs, blinking a few times before blowing a big sigh through his nose and climbing out of the truck without a word.
When I catch up with him, hovering tentatively in the entryway as he ducks to drink straight from the kitchen tap, I try to form words and fail. I try to gather my emotions and fail at that, too.
Distracting myself by glancing around, I spot an open suitcase on the sofa, clothes spilling out of it onto the floor. I guess he's been away. It's not unheard of; he travels to the out-of-state bars he's an investor in fairly often. I'm just usually privy to those travel details.
Arms bracketed either side of the farmhouse sink I've always been a little jealous of, Edward groans under his breath and hangs his head.
"How pissed are you?"
Pursing my lips to stifle a smile, I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the door jamb. "I could wring your neck for drinking and then getting behind the wheel of that truck, but I'm not mad you called me."
Shaking his head, he asks, "You get a cab, or is your car stuck at the hospital now?"
Biting my lip, I admit, "Riley drove me."
Edward's knuckles turn white around the live granite edge of the countertop. "Of course he did. Perfect Riley."
"Edward—"
"I'm tired and my head fucking hurts, Bella." Straightening up, he barely glances at me. "Take the truck home, I'll walk over and pick it up in the mornin'."
Soundless, his name falls from my lips, his shoes hitting the cabinets with muted thuds as he shucks them off before padding barefoot toward his room. Only, before he makes it around the corner, he stops. My breath catches as he reaches up to splay a hand against red brick, chin dipping toward his chest. Broad shoulders rise and fall, my heart thudding dully in my chest.
Not too long ago, I was desperate for Edward to do what I couldn't and end this.
I watch him now, the distance between us so great it feels like the Grand Canyon even though he's just across the room, and I wonder how I ever thought that would work.
How I ever imagined I could live life without him, without us.
"Fuck."
I'm frozen as he spins on his heel, closing the gap in four long strides. My breath gusts out of me the second his long, strong arms wrap around my waist, lifting my feet off the ground and mashing our bodies together right there in the middle of his kitchen. Moonlight pours through the big windows as tears tumble over my cheeks into the soft fabric of his t-shirt. Turning my face into his neck, I surrender to the warmth; the stomach-flipping, soul-crushing relief of finally, finally being back in his arms.
"I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry."
"You should be," I whimper, arms wrapped so tight around his neck I don't know if I'll ever be able to undo them. "Your singing is terrible and the whole ER had to listen to it."
I feel his snort, then the trio of hard kisses he presses against the side of my head. Locking my ankles behind his thighs, I cling on as tight as I can.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it, brat."
The world shifts; I hang on, peeking over his shoulder to see where he's taking me. When I've been deposited gently on his bed, Edward lets go long enough to turn off the lights and pull his shirt over his head. My teeth dig into my lip when I see the bruises painting his ribs. Faint now, but I bet they'll be purple in the morning.
"Is this—"
"Get over here and cuddle me, please."
The man doesn't need telling twice.
I can take a deep breath again once he's wrapped around me, my cheek against his chest, his chin tucked around my crown.
"What happened?" I whisper into the darkness, brushing tentative fingertips over the shadow of a bruise.
"Picked a fight with the wrong crowd," he admits. "I was looking for trouble, found it." His soft chuckle is devoid of humor. "Why...why did you come? I didn't think you would."
"You'd come if it were the other way around."
He hums, the sound reverberating through me, our bodies so close they're almost one.
"Riley…"
Swallowing hard, I squeeze my eyes shut. "He knows. He...your tattoo."
When my eyes pop open, they instinctively go to it.
The tiny black bird, tail feathers disintegrating into stars and a moon.
Nightbird.
Obsidian ink stands out against his summer tan, resting right over where his heart pounds under my trembling palm.
"He...knows?"
Edward is silent the whole time I explain how I must have slipped up and used the wrong card to pay for the motel at some point, that Riley has known for a little over a year.
He exhales shakily when I admit Riley didn't put two and two together until he saw Edward's new tattoo over at Carlisle and Esme's last week.
"He was just biding his time since then, waiting to bring it up," I breathe, not for the first time in absolute awe of Riley and how unfairly patient he's had to be. I have no right to the care and support he's shown me over the last few days, no right to expect anything from him except bitterness and resentment. That's what I was expecting, what I deserve.
But he's been incredible.
The one thing we don't talk about is the baby. A silent, unspoken agreement stops us wandering into that territory.
"Holy shit…" Edward murmurs into my hair.
"Yeah."
Running a hand over my hair and down my back, Edward rests it in the curve of my spine, lightly tapping. When I pull back to look at him, narrowed eyes reflecting the moonlight, I feel fresh tears welling in my own.
"How…" he licks his lips, wincing when his tongue passes over the cut. "How did he…?"
"Take it? Better than we have any right to expect, I think. I mean…" The tears tumble free; I make no move to brush them away. "He has his moments where I can see how angry and hurt he is, but he's been amazing. He has every right to take everything from me for what I've done."
A flare of something taints the concern in Edward's gaze.
Reaching up to hush him before he can snap, I shake my head. "Don't. Don't turn this into a pissing contest. He'd be well within his rights to take everything and blame me for it, and you know it."
For a moment, his eyes boring into mine, I almost tell him everything.
That sandwiched between us is a baby, an innocent little being whose existence threatens the peace of our entire family.
But I don't. I can't, not right now.
That's a midnight confession better saved for tomorrow when cooler, calmer, sober heads can prevail.
~ fd ~
I wake with a screaming bladder and a stripe of sunshine right across my face.
"Ugh, we forgot to close the drapes," I groan, turning to peek at Edward through my fingers.
His side of the bed is empty.
Frowning, I listen out for running water, sniff the air to see if he's cooking his famous hangover remedy, but I get nothing.
Once I've taken care of business in the bathroom, I slip the hairband off my wrist and twist my hair back into a messy bun, padding out into the kitchen in search of my bruised bandit.
The first thing I spot is the pink post-it stuck to the mirror directly across from me.
The second is the empty couch.
~ fd ~
"Non capisco! That boy…" Nonna wags her fist at me, but it's not me she's mad at. "Lo stupido...Edward has no idea!"
Tipping my face back to the sun, I cross my ankles and try to relax back into the sun lounger.
It's been a week since I woke up alone in Edward's empty apartment, a scribbled, nine-word note on a pink post-it my only explanation.
Half-assed as it might have been.
I'm sorry. You were right, I never deserved you.
I've been angry, sad, confused, downright furious.
Now, I'm back to numb.
"Where is he?"
"Bali, apparently. Emmett finally managed to get him on the phone yesterday."
"Bali?" Nonna's eyebrows climb her forehead. "Perché?"
"I have no idea," I admit, shrugging, doing everything in my power to not ask myself that question.
Why?
The only thing I can think of is that I didn't make it clear enough that night, that because I didn't say the words 'it's over between me and Riley,' he assumed nothing was changing.
The wondering and regret will drown me if I let it.
"Mama! Swimming, swimming!"
I plaster a smile on my face for Jameson, waving as he splashes in the pool with Fi; they love visiting their Grandnonna, especially in the summer when the community pool is open. We've been over here every afternoon this week, Riley throwing himself headfirst into work. He's slept at the office a few times, on the couch in his home study the rest of the time.
"Nemo, sissy. Nemo, Dory, swimming!"
Fi laughs and spins him in the water, leaning her face back away from the plastic toys he's using as water battering rams.
I smile for them even though my heart is breaking, even though my marriage has crumbled and the man who owns the tattered pieces of my heart not occupied by my babies was there one minute, gone the next.
Like a passing storm, a summer heatwave, a flash of lightning or a crack of thunder.
Like a fever dream.