Devotion 14
Bella put a quarter in the slot to rent the use of a shopping cart. She pushed off stopping at produce. She was looking at tomatoes. Edward couldn't get ahold of the environment. He could only see Bella.
"Excuse me," someone snapped as he'd been blocking an aisle.
He didn't pull his eyes away from Bella, was oblivious to the woman who angrily made her way around him.
Weak? He was weak. But why would she think so? It was the worst thing she could say to him. The very worst. He could say it to himself. Emmett could imply, it was only Emmett. But Bella saying it?
Scenes of his most recent days flipped through his mind. Weak? Because why? She thought—what? He didn't push enough? Didn't assert? Insist?
Was it all about his rejection of her offer? That he hadn't met her on the level she required? She never meant the offer. Not purely. Not in a way he could trust or approve of, certainly not respond to. She was so damaged. So why couldn't he blow this off? Walk home? Look for another place like he'd planned to?
Because he was weak?
He was in the way again. A woman pushed her cart past. One look at his face and she seemed to forgive him. See, that was the problem. People forgave him too easily.
Bella had moved to bananas. She was rummaging. She seemed frustrated now. She looked at him. He was twenty feet away.
"Edward! I thought you had to shop!" She was angry. How comforting it must be for her to cloak everything in whatever emotion presented itself.
He thought of turning and walking out. But his feet moved toward Bella.