Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

WARNING: If you hate cliff hangers, if you are reading on a mobile device, if you never wanted to or got around to reading 'Ellipsis' the outtake chapter to this story (linked from my profile), then I highly advise that you do not proceed until the next chapter has posted. Most of you will instantly guess the reason for this warning, and understand. Some of you, I assume, will freak the fuck out and hate me. If you need reassurance, find me on Twitter BoydBlog. I thank all readers that are still with me, and welcome the new ones! A special 'shout out' goes to mpg for providing valuable feedback on this chapter.

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addendum (əˈdɛndəm)

n , pl –da

1. something added; an addition

2. a supplement or appendix to a book, etc

[from Latin, literally: a thing to be added, neuter gerundive of addere to add]

~~Riley~~

I checked my inbox methodically. My daily routine seemed to be on constant repeat. The stack of opened mail on my desk annoyed the shit out of me. Another day without any contact from Bella caused a dull ache to radiate in my temples.

The knock on my office door barely registered before Victoria breezed in. I sensed her unease as she approached my desk; she couldn't even make eye contact.

"Hi," she said. "I got you a coffee from downstairs."

I watched as she placed the coffee cup on the edge of my desk, followed by today's copy of The Australian and an environmental report.

"Thanks." I said with little politeness. I didn't feel like interacting with anyone, especially Victoria.

"I've booked my flights, so I wanted to let you know; I'll stay until Friday to make sure everything is handed over. You can always call me if you have to. I've got some personal things to do today, so I'll see you tomorrow."

I didn't even say a word as she walked out. There wasn't anything left to say.

It was a relief that Victoria and I didn't need to deceive people any more. The death of her father meant that we didn't have to pretend we were together. I was finally free of the obligation to lie, and to live that lie every day. Yet, I wasn't as satisfied with that fact as I thought I would be, because Bella was still out of my reach.

I didn't want to feel this resentful. I was genuinely happy for Vic; she was finally getting what she always wanted. It wasn't her fault that I seemed to be in a holding pattern, while she got to move on with her life.

My hands glided over the edge of my desk. The smooth lacquer had become a daily reminder of the choices I'd made and the responsibilities I'd accepted. The feel of the cool, polished wood under my fingertips always took me back to where I really wanted to be.

Bella's bedroom. My hands all over her silky smooth skin.

Three hellish years without her!

I sat unmoving and looked out the floor-to-ceiling glass windows to the million-dollar view of Sydney Harbour. The beauty of the scene didn't affect me any more. I could look at it with a casual familiarity, like the inked pages of the financial section of the daily newspaper.

This is not how I ever pictured my life.

Yet everything had finally come together, day-after-day without Bella to get to this. I hoped that it wasn't all for nothing.

Bella hasn't replied to my letters.

It had been weeks. Every day since I sent them had been slow torture. Every day that she didn't respond was like a tiny part of my unused heart dying in my chest.

Fuck! I've turned into a melodramatic wanker.

I hadn't known until a week ago that Bella had won a writing residency and was living in Vancouver, Canada. That fact alone had appeased me, for a few days.

Maybe she hasn't received the letters yet, because I'd sent them to her apartment?

I recently discovered my mate from school—Austin Marks—was now dating Jessica Stanley, Bella's best friend. Austin told me Jessica was looking after Bella's place (and her cat), while she was in Canada.

I hoped that Jessica Stanley had the decency to forward the letters on. I couldn't remember if I'd written a return address on the back of the envelopes.

The situation just seemed so bizarre.

Who would have thought that Jessica and Austin would have gotten together?

As soon as that thought entered my head, I mentally chastised myself. People would have said the same thing about Bella and me.

My family hadn't known what I'd shared with Bella for three life-altering months back then, three years ago.

I couldn't tell them.

As far as the people in my life were concerned, I was in love with my High School girlfriend—Victoria Marshall—and Bella Swan was just a shy girl that used to have a crush on me at school.

Only Bella's friend Jessica and my 'girlfriend' Victoria knew that Bella and I had been in love.

I'm still in love with her. Beautiful, selfless Bella Swan. How have I survived this long without you?

Bella, like an angel, had appeared in that hospital room almost every day to read to me, inspire and encourage me to get better after the motorcycle…accident.

She looked at me with such awe and wonderment. It was all undeserved. There'd been a fifty percent chance that I'd be a paraplegic, yet she didn't seem to care. Most of my friends made excuses not to come and visit me at the hospital; seeing me immobile, helpless and weak wasn't something they looked forward to. Yet, Bella was there whenever she didn't have to be at a lecture. She looked at me as if I was some type of hero because I let her visit and talk to me! I didn't deserve any of her adoration after the way I practically ignored her all through High School. That was another of my many regrets.

Bella Swan had intrigued me ever since I saw her dancing at a party all those years ago. She was extremely pretty, but she never seemed conscious of it, not like the other girls at school. I remember feeling an overwhelming urge to be close to Bella that night, so I arranged a little game of the spin-the-bottle.

That kiss had stayed with me for months. She'd tasted even better than she looked.

Bella hadn't really paid me any attention before that party. It was only after I'd kissed her that she seemed to be around me more.

She would sit in the front row to watch me rehearse and perform in school plays. She'd be seated way up the back of the stands at every tennis tournament. Just seeing her there intrigued and perplexed me. It was like she wanted to be near me. It was like Bella understood me, because she was creative too. She never spoke to me, and would always look away and her face would go bright red whenever I made eye contact with her.

Bella Swan had a crush on me. It was extremely obvious, to everyone.

My mates used to tease me about it daily.

'Bella bookworm is staring at you again, Riley.'

'Better not leave your Coke can there, Bella will steal it for the shrine she has of you in her garage!'

I kept my mouth shut. I couldn't understand how those fucking wankers that I called my friends couldn't see how pretty and smart she was. I felt more connected to Bella Swan from the two kisses I tricked out of her, than I'd ever felt for any one, including Victoria.

If only I'd had the guts to tell them all to fuck the hell off. I should have. I should have dumped Victoria. Bella should have been my girlfriend back then.

I couldn't change things now, but I knew my life would have turned out completely differently if I hadn't allowed myself to be a victim of peer pressure; amongst the other shit that was going down in my life.

And I fucking can't blame anyone but myself!

School seemed like a lifetime ago because I'm now the Managing Director of my ex-girlfriend's family-owned company.

I'd made the choice. I had to live with the good and the bad. Although I wished that I could step back in time. I would have done things differently. Yet what would I change? If I hadn't been in hospital, I never would have had the opportunity to be with Bella.

I'd been no use to her lying motionless and weak in a hospital bed though. I couldn't even walk unassisted. I needed to recover fully from my injuries. Bella became the motivation I needed to heal, and to live. It didn't matter that I'd been jaded and angry before the accident. After spending so much time with her, just talking and having her read to me, those negative thoughts just seemed to dissolve away.

I read a lot about depression during my recovery. I diagnosed myself. I accepted that I'd made a split-second decision the night of the accident. I had calculated the distance between the delivery van and my bike. I had ample time to slow down to let the van make the turn without incident.

But I hadn't slowed down.

I didn't change my course or speed.

I let the calm of that decision dictate my actions. In those seconds, I was OK with dying. I remembered feeling relieved.

I had nothing to live for. I couldn't measure up to expectations. I thought it was easier to give up.

No one would care.

When my eyes closed, I was sure they would never open again.

But I didn't die. Instead I woke to the concerned eyes of my mother, and no feeling from the waist down.

Then there was Bella.

Always smiling at me, looking at me with kind eyes and talking or reading to me in a soothing voice. She believed that I'd get better. She told me she just wanted to hang around me, that it was no big deal. She said she'd rather sit with me in that grey and sterile hospital room than at the library.

Bella cared about me.

My injuries were bad, but lucky for me I was in the right hospital with the right surgeons and I'd been wearing quality protective gear.

I supposed that almost dying gave me some perspective. Bella Swan sure gave me a hell of a lot more than I ever gave her. She was the one person in my life that didn't expect anything of me, other than to be by my side and for me to work at getting better.

She made me want to recover, so I could be the old version of myself–the one that didn't blow things out of proportion and didn't hold the weight of family expectations on his shoulders.

When I did recover, there was nothing in the world that could have stopped me from seeing Bella.

I thought she may have grown out of her crush; back then it had been six years since I kissed her at that party, and almost two years since we'd left High School. The desire to see her again helped me to deal with the daily stress of recovery. Every night I kept having dreams of Bella crying, telling me to get better, telling me to wake up because she had to tell me she loved me.

Those dreams of her were preferable to the dreams and memories of the accident.

It took five months of rehabilitation. Every one of those days when I was back at home was excruciating. I almost wished I could have stayed in that bleak hospital, so she would continue to visit me.

Just remembering how it felt to touch her skin was almost restorative.

My intentions were initially innocent. Take Bella out to dinner, thank her and explain to her that she'd been the one light in my life that I could focus on to push through the pain.

Even back then, Victoria and I were 'boyfriend and girlfriend' in name only. We hadn't been together since we were seventeen. The façade of our relationship was pretty solid in front of her parents and mine though. Truth be known, we were both struggling to come to terms with what we wanted to do with our lives and what our parents expected of us. 'The path of least resistance' goes the saying. We didn't have the strength to rock the boat.

So, Victoria decided she needed to travel. She told her parents she wanted to get the travel bug out of her system before she settled down. We thought it was a great plan, she'd go to 'find herself' and we'd officially split up when she got back, as if her worldly experience had shown her she'd outgrown me.

Taking Bella to dinner, as a friendly gesture, was all that I intended to do. I missed seeing her and talking to her. I knew I should wait until Victoria came back so we could officially break up to our families. But I didn't want to wait six months before I saw Bella again.

That date with Bella was more than I could have ever have imagined. I tried to act friendly and casual, and it kind of worked until I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to hold her hand. And when actually holding her hand suddenly awoke all nerve endings in my body; that led to me visualizing kissing her, holding her.

I wasn't prepared when she literally threw herself at me, and begged me to touch her, to make love to her. She kept saying she had loved me for so long.

The whole situation was like a fantasy come true. It was like everything fell into place.

Bella loved me, and I realized that I was in love with her too.

That night with Bella and the following morning was the happiest I'd ever been in my life. She wanted me. She needed me. She had so much love to give and she wanted me to have it. Me? It blew me away. She didn't want anything from me, except to be loved back.

Why would I deny myself? Why would I hurt her with irrational rejection? I couldn't. I wanted Bella in my life.

Her daily words, her gentle and addictive touch

I stopped myself from recalling the sex.

It physically hurt to remember what we had; the passion and the contentment we felt. The fact was, I'd stomped on her heart and made her think that I didn't want or love her.

She wouldn't even talk to me, after she saw me with Victoria in the restaurant. I'd told her I was at a business meeting that night. I'd been caught out in a lie, and to Bella it would have seemed Victoria and I were a couple; I could have won a fucking Logie for that performance!

What was profoundly devastating, was that Bella believed so easily that I would do that to her. She was strong when she needed to be, she seemed to accept the lie. She cut me off completely.

I found out some time later that she'd gone overseas, probably to visit her dad. She would be OK; she would take me back when I had sorted through the entire shit storm that was my life. She was so much stronger than I was.

The whole situation turned into such a fucking mess. I was a mess. When I look back now, I knew I hadn't been thinking clearly. The perceived pressure that I was under seemed crushing at the time because I'd owed my parents a ridiculous amount of money. I had to pay them back and break free of my obligation.

After the accident—no, I should say after my recovery—my father hit the roof. My mum insisted on mortgaging the house and spending their life savings to get the best specialists. The Doctor's bills were obscene. My father made no secret of blaming me for not getting my own health insurance when I started university. My Visual Arts degree he considered a waste of time and a pointless indulgence. He said I would be better off getting a real trade, one that would ensure a stable future, 'Fuck creativity! That's not going to put food on the freaking table!' his words made me angry and resentful. That anger turned to guilt. I was responsible for their mounting debt, and I couldn't live with myself unless I paid back every last cent, with interest.

Mick Marshall, Victoria's father, had offered me a job at his company, so I could get back on my feet, literally.

He'd been an inspiration to me, a better man than my own father. My dad seemed to only value me for what money I could earn and not what I wanted to do, or the talent, passion and determination trying to burst out of my skin.

Victoria was an only child, she couldn't give a fuck about taking over the family business and Mick had lamented that it had been his fault she was so disinterested. He'd treated her like a princess from birth, giving her whatever she wanted. She turned out to be expectant and bratty. She would never have the desire to learn the business from the ground up and keep it afloat.

It was both a blessing and a curse the day Mick Marshall made me an offer that seemed to solve everything. His promise to me: learn it, own it. He would make me equal partners; financial security, an insanely generous annual salary and security.

I could pay my parents back within two years. I had paid them back. My father no longer held the right to dictate my life because I owed him money.

What Victoria and I didn't foresee was her dad's sudden cancer diagnosis. Victoria cut short her overseas trip and all our plotting to officially 'break-up' was forgotten. His dying wish was to walk his Princess down the aisle...to welcome me officially into the Marshall family and then have the legal documents drawn up, to give his company to me.

Victoria knew I was in love with Bella but she still pleaded with me to accept.

Her plan was simple...give her father his dying wish and have the ceremony annulled after he passed away; no one would suspect it wasn't as it appeared to be. Then we could get on with our lives. The company would look after both of us. I could manage it, and eventually step away as majority shareholder. I could live extremely comfortably off the dividends, and so could Victoria. A couple of years sacrifice for a lifetime of security and wealth. I could paint, I could sculpt; I could support Bella in her writing.

The plan has taken way longer than I could have ever anticipated.

How could I tell Bella that I was going to marry Victoria for financial gain? How could I expect her to sit back and allow me to treat her that way? I couldn't. I didn't want her to know the split-second decision—and my deliberate inaction—that caused the accident had a ripple effect.

She will never know that I wanted to die.

I couldn't tell her that I chose to deceive her and the man that had been my mentor, so my parents wouldn't lose their house. I didn't want her to believe that my obligation to my family was more important than our love.

When Bella saw me with Victoria at the restaurant… it was easier for me to let her believe what she assumed. I'd never planned it to happen that way, but as soon as I saw the anger in her eyes, I realised if she hated me, she would have something to focus on. Her anger would make her determined to get back on track with her studies and in turn, force her to be more independent.

Truth was, I was too chicken-shit to face her. I wasn't the hero she made me out to be. I was the opposite. I was being dishonest to set myself up for life. It made me feel sick, but I couldn't see that there was any other way. The only way to become the guy that Bella thought I was, was to grow the fuck up, and take some responsibility for my actions. I had to get my shit together. I may have recovered physically from the accident, but mentally, I was far from good enough for Bella Swan.

I need to make it up to her. She needs to know the truth.

I'd sent six letters—one a day. I'd written five of them since I made her believe the lie. They explained everything. I theorized that because I'd written down my excuses, it justified my actions. I'd kept them close to me, determined that as soon as I could, I'd tell her the truth.

Every single day I had to wake up and live a false life, without her. I had to cope with the fact that she thought I cheated on her and that I didn't love her. It was the most sick and untrue lie.

I threw myself into learning the business, and tried to reinforce my determination daily to see the fucked-up plan through, so I could get Bella back…if she'd take me back.

I sent the sixth letter the day before Mick Marshall's funeral.

That last letter was an apology, begging her forgiveness for the deception and begging her to see me, to give me another chance. I'd professed my love in writing, and included the drawings I'd sketched of her when she'd been sleeping.

I was desperate to see her and show her just how much I regretted my actions. I left out information about Victoria and I being secretly married for two years. I hadn't even told my best friend about the quickie wedding. Neither Victoria nor I thought her father would hold on as long as he did. He was supposed to have no more than six months to live. Seems as though mine and Victoria's coupling and 'obvious love' for each other gave him the will to hang on.

I hated myself every day. The deception made me sick to my stomach. I wasn't only deceiving Mick Marshall, I was deceiving myself. I knew right from wrong, and yet I was so focused on proving to my dad that I could make it and pay him back, that I extinguished all happiness in my life. I let Bella think I didn't love her, that I used her; that I cheated on her!

I needed to be worthy of her. I wanted to give her everything, make it all up to her by telling her why I did it and make her understand my reasoning.

One of the benefits of Jessica dating Austin was that I knew Bella hadn't been with anyone since I destroyed what we had with a sick and selfish lie.

Our too-brief relationship was intense and addictive. I couldn't even think about sleeping with another girl. I hadn't. Three years of celibacy seemed fitting as self-punishment.

'Riley, I've only ever wanted you. You gave me my first kiss; you're the first man to touch me. It's you I want.'

I recollected Bella's words, said to me before I'd selfishly taken her virginity.

She'll forgive me. She'll understand why I did what I did.

The thought of Bella with anyone else made me nauseous with intense depression.

She couldn't have been with anyone else, could she? She only went to Canada a short time ago; she couldn't have fallen in love again.

I wanted her to forgive me. I wanted her back. If she gave me the chance I'd work hard every day to make her happy. I'd do anything to see her smile and look at me with love and devotion. I may never be worthy of her love, but I'd make sure she knew that my love for her would never be compromised again. I would take care of her, and support her in anything.

Some of my regret was redirected; at least now I was wealthy and had the financial security to ensure she'll never want for anything the rest of her life.

I took a sip of the coffee that had gone tepid, and picked up the report Victoria had dropped on my desk. Then I noticed something was hidden underneath the newspaper. There was a parcel that was addressed to me and marked 'Personal'.

Bella's handwriting!

Sweat instantly saturated my brow and my pulse quickened.

I stood abruptly, still clutching the parcel, stumbled to lock my office door.

She's replied!

With shaking fingers, I tore the parcel open.

But my euphoria was short-lived. They were my letters, unopened, all six of them.

I looked at the handwriting again and the stamp.

She'd sent them back, unread, no note, nothing.

I clenched the letters in my hand and made an instant decision.

I have to go to Canada.

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