Thank you to 2brown-eyes, ceceprincess1217, gabby1017, and DICATAKADD for pre-reading, and to SunflowerFran for editing. And since I fiddle, any remaining mistakes are my own. ;)
Song for this chapter, Bring it On Home by Sam Cooke.
Let's find out how he ended up on her doorstep.
Chapter 13
The Boy
The day I woke up in the spare room of Jasper's apartment felt like the first day of my new life. It felt like a rebirth in many ways; a way to start over. Though, the pain I felt when I tried to get out of the bed was like nothing I'd ever felt before. My left leg felt like it was on fire, and the stinging, burning sensation was almost too much to take.
"You need to stay put," he'd told me. "Those stitches are the best I could do, and the bleeding finally stopped early this morning. I don't need you ripping them out."
It was a sloppy job, and the best I knew I was going to get. I also knew it would leave a nasty scar. I also couldn't have been more grateful to the man.
I ended up spending two days in that room, until the pain and swelling had eased enough for me to hobble out on my own using a cane. I was swallowing down BC Powder packets like they were the Pixie Sticks Alice and Katie were so fond of, but I couldn't get my hands on anything stronger. And since I was cooped up in his apartment with nowhere to go, at night, I helped myself to his lone bottle of whiskey to help me get to sleep.
I spent the next week in his apartment, watching my wound for signs of infection, and keeping my eyes on the local newspaper. So far, only a small column—page seven, below the fold—had mentioned a missing local man, believed to have fallen into the Allegheny River. He was feared dead, and so far, and most importantly, unnamed.
The day Jasper told me Bella was back in town to pack up our home, he nearly had to physically restrain me. The urge to go to her, to fall at her feet and beg her forgiveness was almost debilitating. But I was so close to having the freedom I craved so much, freedom from this life and all the people in it, I knew I needed to wait it out ... wait to heal so I was strong enough to get out of town.
That wait was almost more excruciating than the gunshot wound itself.
Two weeks pass before I finally feel well enough to make the drive. Jasper hands me a set of keys, keys to my future, and wishes me well.
"It's not in great shape, but mechanically it's good. It was wrecked last year, and the guy never came back to claim it once the repairs were done. But the title is free and clear. And it's now in your name."
"How did you—"
"Don't ask," he says before smirking. "I know a guy."
"You know a guy?" I shake my head and smile. "Okay. I'll take your word for it."
"I hope you find everything you're looking for, man." He thrusts out his hand for me to shake, and I take it.
"Me too. And I can't thank you enough for doing what you did to help me."
He shrugs. "You mean a lot to Alice, and well, she means a lot to me. Even if, right now, she thinks you're gone, I know I did my part to keep you alive. And maybe someday she'll know it."
"Yeah, someday." I shake his hand a little more firmly and fight the urge to give the man a hug. "Just, uh, take care of my sister, will ya? And maybe watch out for the rest of my family?"
He nods. "I'll do my best."
I release him and grab the packed duffel bag near the door. It holds the most basic of my possessions along with enough cash to carry me through until I can find my wife and hopefully settle into a new life.
The '53 Chevy truck is red and worn, but it blends seamlessly into the traffic heading out of the city. With my leg still bothering me, shifting proves to be a challenge, but with the aid of my cane and a little ingenuity, I manage, albeit slowly. It takes me two full days to make the drive.
When I pull into Chicago, the size of the city is unexpected. I knew it was bigger than Pittsburgh, but I didn't realize just how much bigger.
I rent a room and settle in. It takes me a couple of days to find my way around, but I eventually find the house she shares with Rosalie and her friend, Margaret. I do my best to remain inconspicuous, but a few days after I start following her around the city, I know Bella feels my eyes on her. She's always looking over her shoulder, almost as if she can sense me.
Even in her coat, bundled against the cold of November, she's beautiful. She looks healthy, her skin glowing like she did when she carried EJ. And though the child growing inside her may be hidden by layers of clothing, but I can see the pregnancy is moving right along. She can't have much longer to go.
It's so hard to stay away, to watch from a distance. But I need to get her alone if I'm going to have any chance of talking to her. I have a feeling the women she's living with wouldn't let me past the front door.
I begin to notice a pattern. They all have fairly regular schedules. Rose and Margaret leave at the same times each day through the week, and Bella and EJ still go for walks or to the park when the weather is nice enough. On a seemingly regular Friday evening, just before seven, Rose and Margaret leave. They're dressed for a night out, and I take the opportunity I've been waiting for.
I get out of the truck and cross the street. I limp along the sidewalk as fast as I can with the residual pain still lingering deep in my muscles until I'm on her doorstep. I raise a trembling hand and knock.
I can hear my son, so much older sounding than just five months ago when I last laid my eyes on him.
When the door opens, Bella's smiling face greets me, but her smile soon falls, and the color seems to drain from her rosy cheeks. Even pale and losing her smile, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
I'm so overcome with emotion at the mere sight of her, a croaked whisper is all I can manage to utter, but it's enough.
"Bella."
Bella
The man before me drops clumsily to his knees, and his hands ball into trembling fists atop his thighs. The dizziness I felt when I first opened the door hasn't abated, and I grip onto the doorframe to steady myself.
"Baby, please say something." His whispered plea isn't answered, though, because our son toddles over to see his long-lost father as fast as his short, unsteady legs can manage.
"Da!" EJ throws his tiny, excited body at Edward, his short, chubby arms going around his father's neck.
"Hey, buddy. I've missed you so much." He buries his nose in EJ's neck and inhales, holding him tightly. "So, so much," he whispers. His voice is raspy, possibly from disuse, maybe from emotion, I'm not sure.
What I am sure of is that the firestorm of emotions swirling inside my head and heart is nearly debilitating. Sense slowly comes back to me, and I realize we're giving a show to anyone who happens to be watching us under the glow of the porch light.
I clear my throat and get his attention. His red-rimmed, glassy, green eyes shine when he turns up his head to face me.
"We should probably take this inside," I say with a broken whisper. I tilt my head toward the room behind me, and he nods.
"Yeah, you're probably right." He carefully, with almost deliberate motions, gets to his feet, his grasp never loosening from his son, and slowly walks past me into the house, his gait different than I remember.
I close the door and take a moment to collect myself, resting my forehead against the wood with my hand still on the doorknob. I take several deep breaths to calm down, but it doesn't help my racing heart. Knowing I'm not going to get any answers standing at the door, I straighten my back and take a final cleansing breath before turning around.
Edward is sitting on the sofa with EJ in his lap, speaking softly to him, and it makes my steps falter.
"Have you been a good boy for your mommy while I was gone?"
EJ nods his head, even though he likely doesn't completely comprehend what his father is asking him. His tiny fingers play with Edward's larger ones, and it steals my breath. Only in my wildest dreams and heartbreaking nightmares did I ever see this happening again.
"I'm so sorry I had to go away, though. I had to take care of a few things so I could be with you and Mommy. But now ..." He turns his head up and meets my eyes, speaking with purpose. "Now, it's all done, and I never have to go back."
I slowly lower myself into the armchair across from them, but stay quiet. I have so many questions, so many things I want ... need to say to him, but I'm afraid if I open my mouth, I'll only scream at him and be unable to hold back the anger I have. That is something I definitely don't want to do in front of my little boy. He's seen me cry enough tears—both sad and angry—to last a lifetime.
"Bella, I—"
"Not now," I plead. "Please. Not in front of him. I can't. I just ..." I shake my head and struggle to my feet. I walk away as fast as my seven-month pregnant body will allow. I need the space to think ... to breathe.
When I reach the kitchen, I step to the sink and grip the edge of the counter, squeezing my eyes closed. The man in the other room, in many ways, feels like a stranger to me. He's been presumed dead, and I'd come to accept I'd never see him again. I have so many questions, and I know he has all the answers I'm searching for, but I can't expose our son to that conversation, because I somehow know the answers will be difficult to hear.
With shaking hands, I reach into the cabinet and grab a glass. I fill it from the tap and gulp the cool water. Gazing out the window over the sink, I focus on the streetlights glowing the distance. The clock may read only just after seven, but the sun set well over two hours ago. EJ's internal clock, combined with the darkness of the evening, means he'll soon be ready to go down for the night. His giggles from the other room tell me it might be a struggle to get him there.
I step lightly until I reach the doorway leading into the living room. The two men who own my heart have their heads tilted together, the older Edward's murmured words being answered in simple, single-syllable words with babble and giggles by the younger. Once more, I'm struck with the realization this is a moment I thought I'd never get to see again, and one I commit to memory.
My husband's head suddenly pops up, searching for me, as if he could feel my eyes on him.
"I need to get him ready for bed." At hearing the dreaded three-letter word, EJ starts a familiar fight; one that's hard enough on any other night, without Edward's presence.
"No, Mama. No bed." He shakes his head from side to side, clinging to his father.
Edward, in turn, looks to me, a look of panic on his face. "Already?" he asks. "But I just got here."
"Eight is his bedtime, and if I don't start his routine now, he'll be impossible to get to sleep. Not to mention he'll be a bear tomorrow." I take a deep breath before blowing it out and speak softly. "And if he goes to bed we can talk."
Edward nods. "You're right." He looks down at his son wriggling in his lap. "Mommy says it's time to go to bed."
"No, Da. No." Tears fill EJ's eyes, and he grows more upset with each second, his displeasure turning into sobs.
"How about ... Daddy—" I choke on the word suddenly so hard to say, but then try again. "How about Daddy tucks you in and reads you a bedtime story?"
"Yeah, buddy. I can read you a story."
EJ's cries quiet into stuttering breaths as he nods his agreement.
Edward stands with our son in his arms, and he looks lost. "Um ..." He clears his throat. "Where is his room?"
I hadn't thought much about my offer for him to read a story to EJ past making my son feel better, but I'm now acutely aware that doing so means welcoming him into the private space I share with our son.
"This way," I whisper and lead him down the hall.
Edward looks painfully out of place. It's nothing like the room we shared in our home; one more suited to a couple, with matching wood furniture, white lace curtains, muted colors, and quilted bedding on our large bed. No, this space is filled with a hodgepodge of mismatched furniture, toys in every corner, a single-sized bed covered in a purple comforter, and a crib. His tall frame surrounded by so many small, feminine, and childish things brings into focus the sharp contrast of where we've been and where we are now.
"So how do you ..."
"Just, uh, lay him down," I say quietly, pointing at my bed. "I usually just dress him there, then we sit in the rocker"—I point to the chair in the corner—"to read until he gets sleepy. Then I give him a bottle and put him to bed."
"Yeah, okay." He blows out a breath and turns in a circle. "Where's his ... um."
The urge to laugh is strong, but the seriousness of our reunion allows for only a small smile at his sudden uncertainty. He looks nothing like the man I remember living with months ago; the short-tempered, angry, secretive man who broke my heart. The rush of memories squeezes my heart, but I push them away. I need to focus on getting EJ to bed so Edward and I can talk.
"How about I do the changing and dressing, and you do story time?"
His reply is a nod, and I take our son from his arms.
Unwilling to be parted from his father so soon after getting him back, EJ wriggles and squirms as I try to change his diaper and dress him in his pajamas all while he reaches for Edward. To pacify him, Edward sits on the bed next to his son while I make quick work of it. I try not to think about the fact that my husband is on my bed and the conflicting feelings it brings out in me. When I'm finally finished, EJ practically leaps into his father's lap.
Edward stands and walks them to the chair in the corner. EJ settles into his arms like they were made for him, and a moment of irrational jealousy of their shared moment, jealousy toward my own baby, flashes inside me. I swallow it down and shake my head to clear away the ridiculous thoughts.
"His books are in that basket." I nod at the one at the side of the chair. "I'm gonna go make his bottle. I'll be right back."
I go through the motions of warming his bottle, all while knowing my husband—the man I thought to be dead—is in my bedroom, cradling my son and reading him a bedtime story. It's as unreal as it is unsettling. The baby in my belly chooses that moment to make himself known by kicking and pushing against the sides of his temporary home.
"Hey, you." I rub against what could be a tiny foot or elbow. "Running out of room already?" I laugh when my hand is met with a responding nudge. But before I can continue our private chat, giggles floating down the hall get my attention. I grab the warm bottle and walk back to my room. When I see them, it takes all the self-restraint I have not to run to them, to hold onto both, of them and never let go.
Edward has EJ cradled in his arms, and they each have a hand on the other's cheek, playing a game. They're taking turns kissing each other's palms, and EJ giggles every time Edward kisses him, bringing the biggest smile to my husband's face.
"You know, if you wind him up too much, he'll never go to sleep." I step into the room and hold out my hands. "How about I put him down and then we can go talk?"
"Yeah, that's probably a good idea." His gaze, which had been on EJ, meets mine. "I don't know what the hell I'm doin' here."
"It's okay, Edward," I whisper. "He's just happy to have you back."
After exchanging goodnight kisses, and Edward's promises of tomorrow, I take the baby from him, and we trade places.
"I'll just ..." He tilts his head toward the door.
"I won't be long."
"Okay."
I settle back into the chair and situate EJ in my lap around my belly, which is no easy task. At fourteen months, he's growing so fast, and he takes up more space every day. The trouble is, so does his sibling. We rock as he drinks from his bottle, and his quiet breaths even out as his eyelids get heavier.
Rose and Maggie tell me I shouldn't still have to rock him to sleep every night, that I should wean him from his nightly bottle, especially with the new baby coming. But it's been our routine. And as much as EJ loves it, I think I need the comfort just as much. Especially tonight.
Once his eyes are closed and his sucking stops, I take the bottle from his tiny hands and place it on the side table. I stand and step to the crib, carefully lowering him to the mattress and covering him with a blanket.
"What should I do, little man?" I whisper as I brush the wayward curls from his face. "I don't know if I should trust him." I lean down to kiss his forehead before raising the side of the crib. I switch on the dim lamp and turn off the others before stepping out of the room and quietly closing the door.
When I get back to the man waiting in my living room, he's standing in front of the fireplace mantel. He's removed his coat, and I can now see that the time he's spent away from us has not been kind. His previously muscular, healthy frame has thinned. He looks almost ... small. The set of his shoulders tell me the past months may very well have defeated him.
He's studying the framed photographs, which are lined up end to end above the fireplace, capturing memories, old and new. His finger traces the edge of the frame holding the photograph I took from his study on the day I left; the one captured by Alice on our wedding day.
"That's my favorite." My voice breaks the silence, but he doesn't turn to face me.
"Mine too," he replies, not looking at me. "That's why it was in my office." He sidesteps down the line of pictures until he reaches a recent snapshot of EJ and me. We're sitting in the dining room with a cake before us on the table, a single, lit candle on top.
"That was taken on his birthday," I answer his unasked question.
He nods slowly. "I'm sorry I missed it," he whispers before finally turning to face me.
Familiar silence fills the space between us until the questions I have can no longer be contained, and they boil over into a barrage of questions I fire in rapid succession.
"Then why did you miss it? What was so important it kept you from your son ... your family? Why is the last memory I have of you before tonight seeing you in the arms of some tramp? And why did you let them tell me you were dead? Why, Edward? Why?" The frustrated, angry tears prick my eyes, pooling until they begin to stream down my cheeks, and judging by his flexing hands and shuffling feet, I know he wants to comfort me.
It's the only thing I want and the last thing I want, all at once.
The urge must be too strong to fight, because the familiar feel of his arms surrounds me, and I collapse into his embrace. At first, I struggle against his gentle hold, pushing and punching against him as I yell out my frustrations. But eventually, my heart wins out over my mind, and I allow him to hold me.
"Shh. I need you to calm down, Bella," he says as my sobs get louder. "I'm so sorry, baby. I never, never wanted to hurt you."
His hand rubbing soothing circles on my back and the other cradling my head to his chest bring me the comfort I so desperately need. But his close proximity is also clouding my mind, so I push him away, breaking our contact.
"I need answers," I say almost angrily as I reach around him to a box of Kleenex on a side table.
"And I'll tell you everything, but I need you to calm down so I can explain myself ... if you'll let me."
"Don't tell me to calm down!" I push him again, further away, and stand at my full height. I'm not at all intimidating to him, but it gives me the courage to demand answers. "You have no right to tell me how to feel! You left me, left us, without a care about how I would feel about it, so you have no right to tell me to calm down. What I need is for you to tell me what happened."
My heart is beating furiously as I stare into the eyes of the man who hurt me so much. What I find there is a mix of emotions; sadness, remorse, regret. But the one emotion I don't expect to see when I look into his eyes is fear—he looks absolutely terrified.
"Bella, I'll tell you everything you want to know, but I need you to calm down first."
I breathe deeply, trying to get my emotions under control and give him a curt nod as I wipe my nose. I sit on one end of the sofa, but when he steps close enough to sit beside me, I point to the other end.
"I think some distance is a good idea."
He nods and sits on the edge of the cushion and clasps his trembling hands together. He lets out a frustrated sigh. "Where do I even start?"
"How about the beginning?"
He nods and takes a deep breath, blowing it out. "The beginning."
"After Tony's wedding," I specify. "Things were finally going good for us, and then they ... weren't. What happened? What did I do to drive you away?" Once again, the tears begin to well in my eyes.
He opens his arms and moves as if to hold me again. "Bella, it wasn't like—"
"Stop!" I hold my hand out, stopping him from touching me. "Don't. If I'm going to keep a clear head, I need you to not touch me."
He scoots back to his spot and mumbles an apology. "I'm sorry. But, Bella, it wasn't like that. You did nothing wrong. You didn't do anything to drive me away. We both know I was in over my head, but I didn't realize how much until it was too late. Tony dragging me into it put me in a unique situation. He's a made guy, and— You know what that is, right?"
I shake my head. "Not really, but I think I can guess."
"Well, he's a made guy—someone important—who's sworn an oath to the family. But since I'm only half Italian, I'd never be one, never be given the same respect that comes along with it. But since Tony put his reputation on the line by vouching for me, for whatever reason, I think more was expected, and they probably made some concessions where I was concerned. So, there was a lot of pressure on me that maybe wasn't put on other nobodies in the organization. There was pressure to do things I didn't want to do, pressure to respect men I didn't really respect, and when I didn't go along with things, people started threatening me."
My widened eyes meet his. "Threatened? Why didn't you tell me? We could've told someone, went to the police, something."
He shakes his head. "No, I don't think I could have. And I didn't tell you anything, because some of the threats were against you, baby."
"Me? But why—"
"Because they knew the best way to hurt me, and to control me, was to use you."
I let it sink in that I was ever in any danger. Memories of vague comments made to me at the wedding this past spring come back, and the face of the man who made them comes back as well. I knew he was dangerous. I knew the words he spoke held more meaning than what was on the surface. And I know the kind of men he works for aren't the type to forget things. Then the thought of Edward abandoning me for someone else when I was so vulnerable brings my anger right back.
"If I was in so much danger—if you were so concerned for my safety—then why were you spending so much time wining and dining another woman?"
All the time I'm speaking, accusing him of having an affair, he's shaking his head.
"Don't deny it, Edward. I saw you with my own eyes! It's why I packed my stuff and took my son and left you! Why I left Pittsburgh with a baby and another on the way, just to get away from you before you could break what was left of my heart!" I'm now on my feet, my voice so loud I'm afraid I'll wake EJ.
"I wasn't—"
"I saw you, Edward!"
He sits up straighter, his rail-thin form somehow looming over me, and his voice loud enough to be heard over mine. "You saw what I wanted you to see, Bella."
"What's that supposed to mean? What are you talking about?"
"It means there was never another woman. I set it up to look like I was having an affair so you'd leave me, and so the other guys would get off my back."
"Why would you ..." The fight leaves me as I absorb what he's telling me, and tears fill my eyes. "Why would you want me to think you were having an affair?" My whispered question is met with an equally quiet response.
"Because I needed the most important people in my life to be safe. And the only way I knew you'd leave was if you really thought I betrayed you. Be honest with me, if I had told you what was really going on, you would've wanted to stay and help me fix it, wouldn't you?"
"Of course I would, I'm your wife. We're supposed to face things together, and I thought we'd finally gotten to a place where we could do that."
"And that's why I had to send you away, Bella."
"But—"
"You're the most loyal person I know," he continues without a beat. "You stood by my side for months while what I was doing almost destroyed us, and I didn't want you to pay for any more of my mistakes. I knew if you stayed, bad things were going to happen." He reaches across the floral-printed cushion between us, his hand turned palm up. "I couldn't risk losing you, even if that meant pushing you away."
I stare at his empty hand, and the pull inside me is overwhelming. I give in and tentatively reach for him until our fingers touch, and I slowly allow his to lace with mine. We both stare at our intertwined hands; his right and my left. He's the first to break the silence.
"You're still wearing your ring." He notices the thin, gold band still on my finger.
"I couldn't bring myself take it off." I pause then raise my head to meet his eyes. "Even though you broke my heart."
"I'm so sorry."
"I know," I whisper. Again, we sit in silence, unsure what to say or where to go next. I still have questions, and he's the only one who can give me the answers. "Will you tell me the rest? Why did you make everyone think you were dead? How did you make everyone think you were dead?"
He heaves a heavy sigh. "I wanted out, Bella. I didn't see any other way than to make everyone think I was dead."
"Couldn't we have just ... left? Taken EJ and left town? We could have come here and started over."
Again, as I'm speaking, he's shaking his head. "They knew you were here. Some of the guys were here on business, and they spotted you. And if we'd both have left Pitt for here, they would have eventually caught up with us."
"So I've been at risk this whole time? Our son?" The thought chills me to the bone.
He shakes his head. "No. You were safe when you first got here. It wasn't until after your birthday in September that they knew you were here. And I really don't think they had any interest in actually going after you; not the top guys anyway. They just knew using you was a good way to get me under control. But once they figured out you weren't where I said you were, they knew I was keeping things from them. It didn't look good to them. Amato's nephew is the one who decided to take it a step further. He's the one who figured out you were here, and he used it to taunt me." His eyes meet mine. "And it was the last thing he did."
"The last thing he did?" I whisper.
Edward nods. "I couldn't risk him coming after you. Tony and I planned for me to disappear, to make it look like I'd met an untimely demise, but I couldn't chance leaving that particular loose end."
"So he's dead?"
Again, he nods. "Along with any chance someone will come looking for you."
"How can you be sure?"
The corner of his mouth turns up in a humorless grin. "The organization is built on honor and principles, a way of life most of these guys live like a religion. Wives and children are supposed to be untouchable. And most of them stick to it." He turns his head to face me. "Guys like Jimmy don't. Even if his uncle and his boss had told him to use you to get me to get in line, I doubt Amato or LaRocca would've actually followed through with it, but Jimmy is a different story. They didn't keep a leash on that guy, and he didn't see you as off limits. I knew if I didn't make sure he was out of the picture, he would've eventually come after you, even after I was dead."
I file his admission away to think about later and move on to the other pressing question.
"So them thinking you were dead was the only option?"
"Yeah," he quietly replies.
"And how did that work? I mean, obviously no body was found, but everyone I spoke to at home made it sound like it was the only conclusion."
He shifts his weight and settles back a little into his seat. "As soon as I killed Jimmy, I took off. But people saw me. They saw me running away from his body, and I knew how it was going to go down. The original plan was for Tony to send Felix and me to do a job, and him and Jimmy were gonna show up later. Tony was gonna stir shit up and cause an altercation. Felix was gonna witness me killing Jimmy, and then Tony, in turn, killing me. My choice to take care of Jimmy sooner only sped things up."
"So, it was always the plan for you to fake your ... death?" I can hardly speak the word.
"It was. We had it planned out as best we could, and it still ended up being just about perfect. We ended up on the same bridge we'd planned to use, and I'm sure my uncle used some of the anger he actually felt about me deviating from our original plan. But in the end, the only thing that went wrong was the shot Jimmy managed to land to my leg." His hand rubs over a spot on his thigh as I gasp.
"You were shot? Oh my god, Edward! How—I mean, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's okay. I'm okay. There was a struggle, and I just didn't see the gun until it was too late. It was a risk, going after him like that, and I knew things could go wrong, but in the end, it worked out."
"Worked out? Being shot is working out?"
"Hey, at least he only hit my leg." His poor attempt to deflect doesn't work. At the expression on my face, he holds up his hands. "Okay, I get it."
"No, I don't think you do." I take another deep breath. "How bad was it?"
"Not really all that bad. It's only dumb luck that it missed anything major. It was a clean shot, straight through, and didn't hit any arteries or bone, or anything. Other than some muscle damage, I think I got off pretty easy."
I shake my head at his nonchalant attitude, but decide to move on. "So what happened next?"
"I went over the side of the bridge like was always the plan, and Jasper was waiting for me."
"Jasper? Alice's Jasper?"
He nods. "Yeah. He's been in on my crazy plan since the beginning."
"So, that night we went to the club—the night I saw you there—he knew what you were doing?"
"He knew."
"So, he's been in on it since the beginning?" I feel like a broken record, but the whole story just seems unbelievable to me.
"He has."
"So he was waiting for you? In the water?"
He nods. "Yeah. We'd rounded up a small rowboat, and he dropped it in upstream. He spent an hour in that thing waiting for me to hit the water."
The thought of his wounded body falling over the side of a bridge into the icy water of the river makes my heart seize, no matter the fact that he's sitting right next to me. I close my eyes and try not to see it happening, but I can't.
"I was conscious long enough to stay afloat until he could get a life preserver over my head and pull me into the boat. I guess I was unconscious for almost a day." He shrugs. "I don't really remember much."
"You could've died," I whisper. "I thought you died, Edward. I had to tell your son he wasn't going to see his daddy again. Do you have any idea what you put me through?"
"I'm sorry." His grip on my hand tightens.
"I know you are, but I don't know if that's enough."
Again, silence stretches between us, the weight and seriousness of what's happened, a heavy burden.
"So, where does this leave us? What do we do now?"
"It's all up to you, Bella. Whatever we do next is completely your decision. But I want you to know I love you more than anything else, besides our son"—he slowly reaches across the divide separating us, tentatively reaching for my belly—"and this one. I'm still your husband, and I'd like to try to make it work ... make us work." His voice drops to a whisper. "I want my family back. I want to do it right this time."
A/N: What do you think? Did she let him off to easy? Where do they go from here? We're winding down on this one. Just three more chapters, including an epilogue.
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See you next week!
Lots of love,
Sunshine