A/N: OK, so I was right about the abundance of reviews that Chapter 16 would engender! I'm well over 1000, woo hoo! Thanks to all of those who have taken the time to review, even the harsh ones, lol. I've tried to keep up with review replies, but I really can't reply to some of you without giving things away. Some of you are way off base, and some of you are too close to the truth. So don't be hurt if you don't get a reply. I just don't have anything useful to say right now. So hang in there!

Thanks to my pre-reader Cejsmom. And also a big thanks to Payton79 who recommended this tale on her most recent chapter. If you're not reading Two Blue Lines, what are you waiting for?

Chapter 17

Somehow I managed to stumble up the stairs and into my apartment. My mind was racing. He still had feelings for me. That was an appropriate conclusion to reach, right? He'd almost kissed me, and he'd agreed to talk about what had happened all those years ago. But we'd left things so open ended. When would we talk, I wondered, next week at the therapy session? That really didn't seem ideal.

Should I call him and ask? No, he said he needed time, so I should give it to him. It was really almost too much to bear! I picked up the phone to call Rosalie, and I didn't even check the time. It rang several times before she picked up.

"Hey, Bella," she sounded distracted and hurried. "We're right in the middle of dinner. Is it all right if I call you back later on?" she requested. I decided this couldn't wait.

"No, Rose, this is an emergency," I told her, surprised by how steady my voice sounded.

"Oh," she exclaimed with genuine curiosity in her voice. "All right, then. Let me take this into the office." I heard her ask Emmett to finish up with Emma and get her in the bath when they were done. I knew by interrupting their dinner that Rosalie would owe Emmett a detailed explanation, but I could hardly care that he'd be included in my business.

"So, what's this emergency?" she said once she was in the other room.

"I went with Edward to Minute Maid Park this afternoon. We held his therapy session in the Training Room there, and then he gave me a tour," I began, and she interrupted.

"This hardly sounds like an emergency, Bella," she commented a bit testily.

"No, listen, there's more," I insisted and then dropped my voice to an almost whisper even though I was alone in my apartment. "He almost kissed me," I blurted.

"Whaaaat?!" Rosalie shouted, causing me to wince and pull the phone away from my ear a little. Then, she laughed. "Wow, that happened a lot faster than I even hoped."

"You thought he would kiss me in a therapy session?" I queried incredulously. She laughed again.

"I told you from the start that you should make a move. The way everyone has been dancing around you made me have no doubt that he was still interested," she reminded me. "You two needed to have a frank discussion six years ago, and maybe all this could have been avoided. But now is good, too. There's been so much left unsaid, Bella," she told me gently, and I knew she was right.

"You're right," I agreed somberly. She cackled down the line.

"I wish I had a recording of you saying that. I'd play it every morning as my daily affirmation," she teased, and I huffed.

"Fine, Rosalie, you have great insight, and I should listen to your love advice more often. Is that good?" I asked her.

"It sounds like if you play your cards right, that you won't need love advice from anyone," she retorted seriously. That idea made me smile.

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Tuesday morning was my monthly day supervising residents on general cases at the VA. I had avoided the main lobby ever since my blow up with Edward all those years ago and usually came in from a side door. That day, I decided to face my fears and go through the front entrance.

I stood just inside the automatic sliding doors not far from the information desk. The Orthopedics clinic was one of the first ones that branched off that space being a common need for the veterans. In my mind's eye, I replayed that devastating scene from Valentine's Day 2008. For the first time, I found some fault in Edward. I understood why he had been so upset. We'd been practically living together, and I never really let him in.

But, he had never given me a chance to explain. Yes, I'd given up and quit trying to contact him a little too easily, but I wasn't the only one to blame. My revelation caused shocked inhale of breath. I needed to speak to Edward and soon. I wasn't sure how long I could wait.

We only had one case, and it was a simple bone biopsy, so I was done by 9 am. Great, more time to obsess over Edward, I thought wryly. But, I remained dutiful and walked back over to the Baylor clinic to speak to Carlisle. I'd vowed to talk to him about our little tiff, and I intended to keep my word, even if I'd only promised myself. He was in his office typing way at his computer when I arrived.

"Hey, Carlisle," I greeted quietly, knocking unnecessarily on his doorjamb. He looked up, a bit startled. He'd been engrossed in what he was doing and hadn't heard my approach.

"Bella," he said simply with a slight frown. The situation was obviously worse than I thought.

"I owe you an apology," I told him in a rush. "I'm sorry for saying negative things about Siobahn and trying to push Esme Platt on you. Your personal life is none of my business." His shoulders visibly relaxed, and he closed his eyes while pinching the bridge of his nose. Finally, he looked back up, and his expression was much clearer.

"Bella, I accept your apology. I recognize that you care and only do what you think is best," he told me gently. "I do admire Esme Platt, and if things were different, I might consider your recommendation. But as it is, she is not an appropriate person for me to date." His words jarred me; I'd said the exact same thing about Edward in the past. And I'd been glaringly wrong about it. I wanted to correct him, but I couldn't. I just nodded silently.

"I've actually been worried about you lately. You haven't been yourself. And I can't help but think it started around the time that Edward Masen became our patient. Is there something I should know? Don't get me wrong, your performance has been excellent as usual," he trailed off and eyed me closely, and I carefully schooled my features. At that moment, I realized exactly what was at stake.

"No," I replied, forcing a neutral expression onto my face. "I'm just worried about the unknown. I'll be glad when the hiring process is settled in a few weeks. I don't like not being able to plan." I fought to keep from panicking. If Carlisle found out about Edward, I could kiss the Baylor job good-bye.

Carlisle accepted my explanation easily and bid me a good day, and I was relieved to realize that he and I were all right. For now. I headed home. It was only noon, but the weather was sunny and more than eighty degrees. I decided sunbathing with a beer and a magazine was going to be the order of the afternoon.

When I was changing into my bikini at home, I decided that I was probably overreacting. Edward had agreed to talk; there was no guarantee that he was really interested in pursuing another relationship with me. I tried to muster some enthusiasm for the interview scheduled for the next evening, but my mind just whirled. I used to be very good at denial and figured if I put some effort into it, I could muster up some of the good old stuff for the rest of the afternoon. I was successful and lost myself in InStyle and Southern Living until it was time to go in for dinner.

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I awoke on Wednesday morning with one of my favorite paperbacks underneath my left shoulder as well as fantastic crick in my neck. I groggily shook myself awake and realized that I'd fallen asleep reading. I'd been far too confused to sleep naturally, so I'd turned to a tried and true old friend. I'd been hoping to hear from Edward, and his continued radio silence rattled me. Well, I was resigned to pay for my late night indulgence now. The sore neck would not bode well for a good morning in the OR with Carlisle at the VA.

Carlisle was very quiet and only acknowledged me with a few words during the first case. I was surprised because I thought we had hashed things out yesterday morning and were now okay. His aloofness continued through the next few cases. We were done around 2 pm and both paused in the doctor's lounge to eat the lunches we had brought.

"So, I'm interviewing at TOH this evening," I told him, hoping to coax him into some sort of conversation. His behavior was unnerving. He turned his eyes on me, and they were sharp. I shrank in my seat.

"Bella," he began seriously, "I know better than to put much stock into anything I hear from Tanya Denali, but she had something interesting to say yesterday afternoon." My heart sank; I knew where this was going.

"She said someone in an expensive silver Corvette picked you up from the employee entrance on Monday. I thought you were handling Edward Masen's therapy at that time," he stated, his mouth in a thin, straight line. I couldn't lie.

"I am," I told him bravely. "It was Edward who picked me up. We worked out at Minute Maid Park on Monday. He thought it would be easier security-wise if he brought me there the first time." Carlisle narrowed his eyes and studied me.

"So, you're going to be working out of the park from now on?" he asked. I shook my head.

"No, we decided that Whitlock was probably the best place for it," I stuttered but didn't offer anything else.

"Bella, there's something you're not telling me. I won't force the issue, but I hope you remember everything we talked about yesterday and in the past. It won't go well for you, if it turns out you've been keeping things from me. There's only so much I can do for you," Carlisle warned. Then, he stood up and threw his leftovers in the trash. Just before he left the room, he turned back to me.

"I'll never forget what you've done for me. You know I'll help you in any way I can. But, you've got to stick to the right path," he pleaded. I carefully considered his words. He was correct. But what was the right path?

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I made a quick stop at home to change into appropriate interview clothing. I dressed in a khaki pantsuit with a pink blouse underneath. Some women in Orthopedics tried to minimize their femininity, but I didn't think that was wise, hence the pink. I also thought that most people wore black or navy suits, so I aspired to stand out more in a less typical color. It had worked in the past.

I recognized, though, that I had a horrible attitude as I drove the short distance to TOH. I hadn't even investigated the details of the private practice, and I was already comparing it unfavorably to Baylor in my head. The fact that I knew this didn't make me any more open-minded. I was ready to find TOH lacking when compared to Baylor. I tried to give myself an attitude make over before I arrived.

I parked in the same location that I'd been using for Whitlock and Associates and made my way into the lobby. The executive suite was down the hall in the opposite direction from Whitlock's space. I pushed open the swinging glass door into a waiting area furnished with stylish brown leather couches along with metal and glass end tables. A large, medium-stained wooden counter occupied one side of the room. A stylishly dressed dark-haired woman sat behind the desk and tapped away at her keyboard. She was wearing a headset and looked up expectantly when I entered.

"Hi, I'm Isabella Swan. I'm here to meet with Dr. Ateara," I hazarded. A wide smile split her face.

"Welcome, Dr. Swan," she greeted. "I'm Claire. We've spoken on the phone." I nodded at her with a polite smile of my own. "Please have a seat. I'll let Dr. Ateara know that you are here." She stood from her perch and disappeared around a partition. Moments later a gentleman in late middle age with salt and pepper hair appeared from a closed doorway. He smiled at me and extended a hand.

"Dr. Swan, I'm Quincy Ateara, it's a pleasure to meet you," he said. I stood and shook his hand, careful to make it firm. Guys noticed things like that.

"Thank you for having me, Dr. Ateara," I responded. We smiled at each other, and he motioned for me to follow him into his private office. I took the opportunity to observe him. He was medium height and had the physique of someone who had been a serious weightlifter at some point, but time had caught up to him, making him a little soft in areas where he'd probably once been pretty solid.

We entered his office, and he headed around his large, intimidating desk and took a seat. He motioned for me to sit in one of the chairs across. It was comfortable but the seat was shocking purple leather. He smiled when he saw that I was noticing the anomaly.

"Horned Frogs," he said, referencing the mascot of Texas Christian University. I smiled in understanding. "I was a starting offensive lineman for two years," he told me proudly, and his physique was explained. I studied him for another minute, registering his white hair, tan skin, and the significantly receding hairline. What was left seemed pretty robust, and I decided he was aging well. He smiled wolfishly and continued the conversation.

"But you're an Owl, from what I read in your CV," he bantered with a smile. I returned it genuinely, feeling more comfortable. Trust an Orthopedics interview to turn into a sports debate.

"Yes, I am, but I was never more than a dedicated fan," I demurred. He obviously approved of my reply.

"So, Dr. Swan, let me be frank. We are hoping to hire another partner with a Sports fellowship. We offer a year contract with a renegotiation at the end of that twelve-month period and an option for partnership at that time, if appropriate." I nodded to show that I understood. That information had all been available in the ad for the position.

"You stand out from the other candidates for a variety of reasons," Dr. Ateara continued. "First, you come from a strong residency and fellowship program. Also, you are Houston born and bred, if I'm not mistaken," he inquired. These were standard questions, and even though I didn't like talking about my family, I knew I'd be expected to cooperate.

"Yes, I was born in Houston, but I lived in Brownsville for a few years, too. I moved back to Houston before high school," I told him. His mouth twisted. He'd been hoping for more.

"Your step-father is Phil Dwyer, correct?" he asked. I struggled to keep my face neutral. I certainly didn't want to discuss him. My mother, Phil, and I had come to a more acceptable understanding in recent years, but I still didn't spend much time with them, which seemed to please all parties. If they thought they could get to Dr. Dwyer through me, then I needed to cease that line of thought.

"Yes, Dr. Dwyer is my step-father, but we limit our relationship to a familial one. I know very little about his work," I related with studied practice. To my surprise, Dr. Ateara's face split into an infectious grin.

"Only a rare breed would dismiss the influence that Phil Dwyer could exercise," he commented. "I'd already been told that you achieved your accolades despite this relationship, but it's nice to have it confirmed." I flushed at his praise, but I didn't know what to say next.

"Dr. Swan, you also come highly recommend from within. We allow our partners to review the packages of our candidates and encourage feedback. I understand you're acquainted with Jacob Black," he fished. I nodded.

"Well, he thinks very highly of your abilities. You worked together in residency?" he asked. I confirmed that we had. "He feels you would be a good fit. But you're a finalist for the Baylor job, I understand," he leveled me with his intense dark-eyed stare. I nodded again, feeling a little put on the spot.

"Baylor has the prestige of an academic appointment, I agree with you," he began slowly. "But, we have deep pockets, and our partners are doing quite well," he told me confidently. "There are other benefits, too. I understand you and Carlisle Cullen have been working with Edward Masen, the Astros pitcher," he fixed me with a penetrating stare. I looked side to side with discomfort but reminded myself that he could have no idea what was going on with Edward and I.

"That relationship wouldn't have happened without Whitlock and Associates. We are building a coalition of orthopedic needs, and I think you could be a great part of it," he told me intensely. "Please consider us as an opportunity. I've taken the liberty of putting together a sample contract for you to review. Now, there's someone in the lobby who would like to speak with you," he dismissed me but handed me a folder which I assumed held the contract. I stood up slowly, apprehensive about whom he could possibly mean. I had a good idea, and it didn't make any of this any easier.

"Please be in touch," Dr. Ateara bade me farewell, and I thanked him profusely before leaving the room. As expected when I returned to the lobby, Jake Black was standing by Claire's desk.

"Well, fancy meeting you here," I said sarcastically, and he grinned unapologetically.

"Well, if it isn't the only third year medical student I've ever met, who could identify a greenstick fracture on the first try," he retorted, and I rolled my eyes. But I was flattered.

"Jake, it's good to see you," I admitted. He was quick to reply.

"I thought it was a sign that you met up with Leah and my girls the other night," he said seriously. Then, he narrowed his eyes.

"I know you're in contention for the Baylor job, but I think this might be a better fit for you. Just hear me out," he blurted before I could open my mouth. "Let's tour the ward briefly. We can catch up a little," he insisted.

They had a nice situation here, I couldn't argue. But, it didn't have the prestige of an academic job, and it wasn't Baylor. That had been my goal for so long, it made it difficult to think clearly about anything else.

"Sure, let's take a look around," I agreed. Jake beamed and took my elbow. We left the executive suite, and he led me to an elevator. He took me to a Joint floor, which I found a little strange. The vast of majority of my cases would be outpatient, and I wouldn't be responsible for these overnight patients. So I really didn't need to see what was going on. But Jake insisted on me following him.

We greeted a few of Jake's patients who were 'enjoying' perpetual motion rehab after their joint replacements. They were in agony, but somehow didn't seem to blame the handsome, tan, white-toothed surgeon for their discomfort. He led me back to the main lobby when we were done looking around.

"Bella, I've always admired you," Jake said as we stood together in the TOH lobby. "You have a special instinct about bones and joints. Frankly, it's uncanny," he finished. I shook my head, disagreeing with him on instinct, but he held up his hand. "But from what I've heard from my brother and the grapevine, that's where your instinct ends. I know we've danced around it for years, but I'm sorry if I ever did anything to make your life more difficult," his eyes met mine with only sincerity.

"But, I know that Edward Masen is working with Whitlock and Associates, and I know that you're involved with his therapy as well. Hell, everyone around here knows that!" He chuckled. "Keep your options open. You might find that the best fit is something you'd never planned." I looked over his open, honest face, and I couldn't be annoyed with him, even though I wanted to be.

"If you do say so yourself," I snarked, and he laughed again, putting his hands in his pockets and rocking onto the balls of his feel.

"Right, I may have an ulterior motive here, but my advice is sound," he retorted. But he ended up slinging his arm around my shoulder and escorting me back to the parking lot.

When I got home, I didn't open the folder. I didn't want to see their offer. I wanted life to return to normal, to a universe where all I cared about was the Baylor job, and there was nothing that could sway me from that objective. But that universe was gone, and I still hadn't heard from Edward.

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I was happy that Carlisle seemed willing to let bygones be bygones, and we passed a status quo day in the VA clinic on Thursday. Friday started out much the same. I was jumpy, though, still hoping and dreading that call from Edward. I knew he needed time, but how long would I have to wait?

The Friday morning clinic progressed at a normal pace, and we were well behind schedule by about noon. I was reviewing a film on one of the monitors at the nurses' station, when Tanya approached me with a satisfied smirk on her face.

"Dr. Swan, Esme Platt is here to see you," she chirped happily, and I turned slowly to look behind me. Carlisle was a couple of paces away with a startled but definitely angry look on his face. No wonder Tanya looked so pleased. It was obviously her mission in life to spread discord and chaos.

"Oh? I'm not expecting her," I answered with casualness, but Carlisle turned on his heel and disappeared into a patient's room with a hard door closure, not quite a slam. Tanya smirked at me, but I ignored her and headed towards the front.

"Esme," I greeted her and drew her to a quiet corner of the waiting room. "It's good to see you. How can I help?" I asked, seriously confused as to why she'd be seeking me out. She shrugged delicately.

"I'm sorry to bother you at work, but I wondered if you'd be free for lunch," she said with a small smile. I glanced at the clock. It was close to noon, and we weren't nearly done with the morning patients. I shook my head with regret.

"No, it doesn't look like I'll get a lunch break today. Is this just a social call?" She smirked at me in response.

"Yes, of course. I'm incensed that you'd imply there was another reason for me to seek you out," she joked, but then rearranged her features into a serious expression. "How about tomorrow? Can you make lunch, then?" I nodded slowly. I had no plans, but I was still holding out hope of hearing from Edward. But I couldn't put my life on hold for him. God knows, it had been on de facto hold for years.

"Le Peep, then," she told me decidedly. "We can have a frank conversation over that kind of food. And if things go badly, then Amy's ice cream is next door." My smile widened. I liked her style.

"I've got to go back," I told her with some regret, and she understood. I hurried back to the nurses' station. Carlisle was standing there tapping his foot.

"I'm caught up," he announced accusingly, and I realized there was one last patient that I hadn't worked up yet.

"I'm so sorry, Carlisle. I swear I didn't invite her here. She didn't say anything about you. It was just friendly chatter. We have a lot in common," I trailed off lamely. He just stared at me, so I grabbed the tablet from the slot outside the final room for the morning. The timing for this could have worked out better.

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I rushed out of the clinic as soon as we were done. Between my own anxiousness over Edward's absence and Carlisle's disapproving glances, I just wanted to be home in my pajamas. I didn't bother to turn my cell phone on but just tossed it in my messenger bag and hightailed it.

Once inside my apartment, I heaved the bag onto one of my dining room chairs and wandered into my bedroom to change into more comfortable loungewear. I let out a sigh of relief to be alone, but it turned into a sharp inhale when I realized my phone had been off all day. I rushed back into the living room and fished it out of the bag.

I had a text from Edward. I stared at the piece of electronics like it might bite me but then hastily opened the message. It had been sent mid afternoon.

"I hope ur having a good week," it read. I rolled my eyes and huffed. I wanted to write back, "Actually, I 've been losing my mind thinking about you, and now all I've got to show for it is this lame text," but that was too long. I typed something else instead.

"Pretty standard. How RU?" The response was almost instantaneous. Was he sitting by the phone waiting for a reply? That thought pleased me a bit too much.

"I'm good. I want to see you," it read. I squealed a little and felt really silly. I moved across the room and flung myself onto the couch. What to write, what to write, I thought. But before I could come up with anything appropriate, he sent another one.

"Soon. We'll talk soon." Huh? What a tease. Or maybe he was just confused like I was.

"Soon?" I wrote. He replied immediately once again.

"This weekend. I'll call you tomorrow," he wrote. I wondered why not now, but I knew he had other friends and commitments and probably had plans.

"OK," I wrote back. I debated even responding to that last one, but I couldn't help myself.

"Have a good night," he replied, and I had to leave the phone in the bathroom to keep from writing him back. I longed for a beer with my leftover pizza but decided to forego it. All I needed was to send some drunken texts later on. So, he planned to call me the next day. I guessed sleep would elude me for another night.

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A/N: Please do not murder me. I swear that "the talk" will happen front and center next chapter. This chapter was not filler. That's all I'm sayin'…