Chapter 13

Bella texts me at six that her shift is over, so I tell her to change into her dress and I'll meet her down at the lobby, hoping to avoid the bar and another run-in with Jazzdouche, who could possibly see my soon-to-be bandaged hand. Two days ago I would've said he was too dumb to make the connection, but I have to admit (regretfully) that he one-upped me today. I make quick work of cleaning the sizable gash he inflicted, wishing I was a Full already as the wound would've healed by now. Bella is going to notice, and I'm not sure what I'll tell her. Maybe I'll say I did it for love, a sympathy wound to match hers. That's some romantic shit right there.

Staying alert in the lobby, I see Bella immediately as she walks through a side door and move towards her, trying to put this dreadful and confusing afternoon behind me and concentrate on the first reason I'm in Key West.

I quickly move my injured hand into my pants pocket and run the other over her bare arm. "You look incredible." She's wearing a long, strapless blue dress of a soft material that's a bit shorter in front, showing off her tan legs.

"Is it too dressy? It was this or a cotton sundress. But seeing you in a jacket in this heat, I guess not."

"It's perfect for where we're going." And the jacket is necessary to hide the knife sewn into the lining of my sleeve.

"And where is that?"

"It's a surprise." I lead her outside with my good hand on her back, and when she moves towards the taxi stand I pull her closer to me and guide her around the waiting passengers. "It's a beautiful night, we can walk." I look down at her shoes, a pair of high, sparkly sandals. "You can walk in those?"

"I can run in these if I have to. No problem."

"You have grown up. The Bella Swan I knew way back when wore combat boots to prom."

"That was a statement."

Guiding her across the street, I take the long way to our destination and we end up at Mallory Square, where entertainers gather crowds at sunset looking for some pocket money. My hand holds hers tightly as we walk slowly past jugglers, fire-eaters, and magicians.

"You know, I've lived here for seven years and not once have I come down here to see this."

"I know it's kind of touristy, but I wanted to share the sunset I've admired the past few days with you. I heard this was the perfect spot."

Bella looks out over the water, the sun riding low while the sky above is alive with color dancing off the clouds. Her face reflects the magnificent pinks and golds shining around us, and I feel an ache in my heart for all the time lost, all the sunsets and sunrises she's seen without me by her side. "It's heavenly."

"It can't compare to you." Pulling out my phone, I fiddle with the camera app (never used, never had anything I wanted a lasting memory of except maybe one of my kills but obviously that would be a poor choice) and take a picture of her.

"Let's take one together." Bella motions for me to stand next to her. She takes my phone and holds it up, while I get as close to her as I can, wrapping her in my arms and laying my head on hers. "You will show up in this, right?" She takes the picture and looks at the phone. "Yup, you're here."

"Another myth. I take great pictures." I look at the phone and I see someone staring back at me I haven't seen in a long time. The goofy grin from my youth is right there, with the starry eyes and intense love for the girl encased in my hold. I realize the pose we just struck mimics almost every picture of Bella and me taken by our friends and parents.

"It's like time stood still," she says like she's read my mind, rubbing her thumb over the picture. "Except I look waaay fucking older than you, you shit. And your eyes aren't red-rimmed and glassy."

Laughing, I tell her to make the picture my screen saver. "You look perfect. We look perfect." She works my phone until the picture is saved, placing it in my hand, but I don't let go of her, speaking hesitantly, "Did you keep any?"

Sighing, Bella looks up at me. "I kept them all."

"You still have them?"

"I do." She nods and looks away. "Do you?"

I hesitate, remembering the exact moment I chose to erase Bella from my life. Celluloid-fueled flames licked against the edge of the fire I'd made, her face melting and bubbling in the heat and rising above me in a plume of black smoke. No action of mine has made me sicker than having to admit this to her, right now. "No. I didn't take any with me. I couldn't."

She can't hide the look of hurt on her face, one I'm still causing years later. "I'm sorry, Bella. It'll never be enough, I know. But if you let me, I'll rebuild that photo album I had, the one with the Pearl Jam stickers on it you made for me. I'll take pictures of you day and night. While you're sleeping, while you're mad, while you're laughing. We can start over."

"There's no starting over, Edward. We either choose to move on or try to pick up the pieces."

"I'll pick up every last one." She lets me kiss her, slow in the heat of the fading sun. If I live to be five thousand years old, this will remain my favorite thing to do.

"I still haven't forgiven you," she murmurs while I continue to press my lips against her soft chin, her warm cheek, her freckled nose.

"What can I do?"

"I have a list, but right now, buy me a margarita."

"Done." I wrap her in my arms, grateful to feel her holding me close as well. Years of apologies will never be enough, but I'll do everything I can for the rest of forever. "Hungry, too?" I pull back, happy to see her eyes are still closed, a dreamy expression on her face.

"Starving!"

As we near the restaurant at the end of the pier, Bella remarks that she's never eaten here. "Was it tough to get a reservation?"

"Technically, the restaurant is closed."

"So what…"

We get to the outside seating area and Bella looks at the sign set up. "Brianna and Randy's Wedding. Who are Brianna and Randy?"

"No idea." I push her gently to enter, guiding her towards the bar. "Margarita, you said, right?"

"Edward! Are we crashing a wedding?" She pulls on my jacket sleeve and I calmly order a margarita for her and a Merlot for me despite the sudden imagery of my knife falling out and severing her toe.

"Scared, Bella?" I taunt, leaning on the bar and holding out a brightly-colored stool for her.

"Me? Scared? Not on your life." She turns to an older couple sipping drinks and eating finger foods. "Hi! I'm Jessica Stanley. Friends of the bride or groom?"


Growing up in a small town, there wasn't much to do most weekends once you got tired of going to the beach, the diner, or the bowling alley.

So on one particularly boring Saturday afternoon, Bella instructed me to find the nicest outfit I owned (really hard to do for a teenager who lived in ripped jeans and had drawers full of offensive t-shirts) and directed me to drive towards Port Angeles.

Wearing the only dress she owned, a flapper costume from Halloween, while I wore an ill-fitting button down shirt she stole from Charlie's closet and clip on tie, we crashed our first wedding. Even though I was slightly nervous, I followed my fearless girlfriend's lead and we ate and drank our weight in free shrimp and vodka cocktails.

When a wedding guest at the buffet introduced themselves with a curious look of 'who are you and what are you doing here', Bella quickly answered with the name of her famous arch nemesis.

As in most high schools, there's the one girl that thinks she's better than everybody else. In ours, that girl was rich little daddy's girl, Jessica Stanley.

Not a day would pass that she wasn't making someone miserable with her fake plastic smile and backhanded compliments.

She'd flirt with boyfriends, almost hit you with her Land Rover in the parking lot before yelling at you for being in her way, offer her 'help' while ripping a poor girl a new one about a jacket she had on.

And no one got under her skin more than sweet, funny, and well-liked Bella Swan.

Bella had it all in Jessica's eyes. The admiration of students and teachers, a wicked sense of humor, and the envious quality of not giving a fuck. Plus, she had the one thing Jessica couldn't seem to get her hands on, a deeply-devoted boyfriend.

Jessica had recently been dumped by Mike Newton, and was convinced that he had a crush on Bella. Her efforts to gain back Mike's affection failed, and she blamed Bella.

An extremely loud and public accusation from Jessica flew towards Bella in the cafeteria when Bella made the horrible mistake of sitting next to Mike. Jessica yelled that she always knew Bella was secretly jealous of her; wanting to date her leftovers, dress like her, talk like her, to be her.

So Bella handled it the only way someone like Bella would. She did what she was accused of, and became Jessica.

Everywhere.

She began passing herself off as Jessica every chance of every day that she got. At school, at parties, she'd call herself Jessica Stanley for no real reason, which annoyed the fuck out of Jessica. Even though it was stupidly ridiculous and pointless, it still drove Jessica batshit, something Bella got a great kick out of.

So it was only natural for her silly game to cross over into her new favorite hobby of wedding crashing. We crashed any wedding she knew was coming up. We ate all the food, we drank all the booze, while Bella introduced herself to every guest as Jessica Stanley. She'd hit on the married men in front of their wives, stick silverware in her purse at the table in plain sight, attack me inappropriately on the dance floor, and generally caused everyone at any wedding to be appalled by this girl named Jessica until we got busted or grew bored and left.

I'm smiling at her now as she chats up the older couple. She's still that spitfire, still that girl that takes chances and doesn't care, and maybe it's a conceited thought, but I'm glad that my leaving didn't alter who she was.

"Let me introduce you to my boyfriend," she says, holding a hand out towards me.

"Mike Newton," I say easily, slipping into my old role as her wedding crashing cohort. "Beautiful evening for a wedding, isn't it?" It doesn't escape me that something Bella and I used to do so easily has become a direct correlation to how I live most of my life. Even then, I was trying on names and being different people with her.

The couple walks away to mingle and I slide up to her, my good hand caressing her bare back. "Boyfriend, huh?"

"It's what you were in our old life of crime."

"So it's just for tonight, then?"

"We'll see."

"What does it depend upon?"

"How much food you bring me. I'm really hungry." She wrinkles her nose and nods towards the cocktail hour spread.

"Don't move." I kiss her and get in line, filling a plate with the things I know she likes. Mini crab cakes, beef from the carving station, and lots and lots of cheese. She's accepting another drink from the bartender when I return and smiles at the plate I put in front of her.

"You remembered the cheese."

"Of course. A day Bella doesn't eat cheese is a sad day, indeed." She eats a few cubes and the toast I brought with it, before slicing into the meat.

"Want some? It looks pretty rare." Nodding, she feeds me like she did this morning, falling into her old role of making sure my meat is cooked the way I like.

This is totally going to work out.

The bride and groom start making their way from the photo session at the sunset side of the bar to start mingling with guests, so when they near where we're sitting, I pull Bella up before they reach us. Walking between rows of tables adorned with lime green umbrellas and vases of white roses, I stop when we're a bit removed from everyone and automatically pull her into my arms, moving us slightly on the dock to the music from the band.

She glides automatically with my body, the two of us moving in sync like we were never apart. We're much better now than we were as teenagers, much less gangly, but it feels like home. I reach for her hand and clasp our fingers together.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Bella's staring at the bandage on the hand holding hers. Shit.

"It's nothing. Recreational accident." Sort of true. The music wells up so I spin her a little, hoping to distract her.

"When did you get so good at this? Dance with many women, have you?"

"I haven't danced with a woman since the last wedding we crashed."

"Really?"

"I told you, there's been no one since you."

"I thought maybe you were just saying that."

"Nope, it's true. There's only ever been you." With dread, a question forms in my mind. I swallow, and look up at the sky cursing as I turn her. "How about you, Bella? How many have there been?" I don't want to know, but I have to know. She's quiet, tucked in on herself and pressing her body closer to mine, like she's hiding.

Oh fuck, it's that bad?

"Zero."

"Come again?" I'm incredulous as I lean down to get in her face and make her look at me.

"No one, there's been no one."

"How is that possible? You're so beautiful, and funny, and you, and…"

"And pining over a ghost for the last thirteen years," she interjects. "Hardly good girlfriend material."

What what? Slack-jawed, I step away from her and run my hand down my face, despite the scratchy bandage. Walking a few feet away, I tug at my hair and try to get a grip on what I'm feeling, when I feel her hand on my elbow.

"Edward? What is it?" She's looking at me, her face filled with worry and concern. "I thought that would make you happy to hear."

"Happy? I'm hardly happy, Bella." I shake my head and close my eyes. "I thought I wanted that, I was wrong."

"I don't understand."

I turn to fully face her, hatred for myself twisting my features and making me ugly. "I took thirteen fucking years from you. How could I be happy about that? I am a fucking monster, literally and figuratively." I walk away from her and begin to pace. "How fucking selfish of me to come back here and think everything I did to you could just be erased by a wink and a promise. Thirteen years! You fucking wasted thirteen years of your life on me, someone who doesn't deserve you at all. You should be married, having babies, living the life you deserve. I shouldn't have left you with no word," I get right up in front of her, snarling my last words. "I should've lied and told you I hated you. Then you might've moved on."

A sharp slap comes across my face and I'm momentarily stunned. Bella stands before me, fuming with her injured arm in her hand. "Don't you do this, Edward. Don't you decide what's right for me one more time, you prick! I lived through that already and I'm not going to do that again."

"Your hand…" I reach for her to make sure she didn't hurt herself with the assault on my face.

"Fuck my hand, and fuck you." She jabs me hard in the chest with a pointy finger. "How dare you say you should've told me you hated me. You disappearing without a trace gave me hope."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Thirteen years of thinking you hated me would've been worse than thinking you were dead."

"You make no sense." I wave her off but she pulls on my hand, pinching where Jasper's crude weapon got me.

"Don't you dismiss me," she snaps. Reluctantly, I look back at her, self-loathing oozing out all over the dock. "As long as you were out there somewhere, I had hope that you'd come back to me."

"You said you wished I was dead."

"I lied, you asshole."

"Well I came back for you, happy now?" Touching my cheek gently, the pulsing from her slap still stings as I look over at the crowd staring at the crazy couple fighting at a wedding.

"I was until about five minutes ago." We stare at each other, her little face mad while I look at her like she's lost her mind.

A waiter makes his way to us, "Excuse me, everything alright here?"

"Fine," we say in unison.

"Um, the bride and groom were wondering if you are invited guests?"

Bella looks at me with wide eyes, and I stare back at her much the same. "Ah, tell Randy and Brianna that we hope they'll be super happy together. Like us." Bella grabs my hand and pulls me past the waiter and through the tables, where the bride and groom begin to walk over to cut us off from leaving.

Bella skips around them with me in tow. "Brianna, you look beautiful! Randy you're a lucky man! Good luck! Never go to bed angry!"

"Mazel Tov." I salute them as I pass and Bella starts laughing as we make a run for it. Getting a good fifty yards from the restaurant, Bella stops and pulls up to hide behind a palm tree.

"Are they following?"

Looking over her shoulder and seeing no one, "Nope," I say, smiling.

"Well, that's a wedding everyone will remember. The batshit lady that slapped her companion."

"They'll say he probably deserved it."

"He did." She's breathing heavy but still laughing. "Fuck, these shoes do hurt." She leans down and pulls them off, so she's barefoot on the concrete.

"Hey." I tip her chin up with my fingers, running my thumb back and forth across her chin. "I'd never be able to tell you I hate you. It would be impossible," I pause. "Did you really mean what you said?"

"I had hope, Edward. Always. That's why there was no one. I couldn't replace you." I kiss her hard and fast, pressed up against the tree until her lips are beautifully red. "This doesn't mean I've forgiven you."

"What can I do?" I say against her cheek, placing my lips on her skin repeatedly as she leans into me.

"Buy me some flip flops."


Huge thanks as always to my GIF-loving pre-reader, LayAtHomeMom, and my favorite person/muse/beta, CarrieZM. Without them I am nothing.

And without you, I am just a bunch of unread words in cyberspace.