So we had lots and lots of participation in "guess what Katie's thinking of" at the end of Chapter 18. The top guesses were:

E didn't kiss anyone or didn't close his eyes if he kissed them

He didn't bottom

He didn't let anyone stay the night

He didn't do anyone in his bed ("their" bed)

Didn't get names or talk to them

Didn't do them face-to-face

All good guesses, and all technically true – but the two I was thinking of were that he didn't bottom, and that he didn't take anyone to his bed. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

A question was asked by a number of reviewers: when Carlisle said to Jasper that he was sorry he and Esme wouldn't get to know Jasper better, did he mean that C&E were leaving Seattle? I'm sorry if my wording was ambiguous in that paragraph; Carlisle and Esme aren't leaving Seattle, nor is Jasper. That's all I can say about that for now; but I promise, further clarification will come in a chapter in the not-too-distant future.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

-o-

Jasper

Thursday morning, my mother catches an early flight back to Austin. During the course of her visit she has, as promised, filled my freezer with my favorites from among her vast recipe collection; she has visited with some of her old friends from Seattle; and she has, just with her simple presence, been a balm for my battered soul.

She misses my dad, though; and I know he misses her as well. They hate to be away from each other, and since Dad's job requires so much less travelling now than it used to, they're almost never apart for even a night anymore. Each evening that she's here, he calls her before he goes to bed; and I overhear bits and pieces of my mother's whispered end of their conversations.

This time I insist that she let me take her to the airport, since I can take her there and still have time to get to work; and she is the one to relent. I accompany her into Sea-Tac Airport, as far as I can without a boarding pass. She reminds me that Emmett will be staying with me for a night next week, while he's in Seattle on business. We hug, holding the embrace for a long moment while she whispers words of encouragement. She releases me, places a kiss on my cheek, and says, "I love you, my darling."

I breathe a deep sigh. I'm always sorry to part with her; this time even more so. Returning to my car, I sit there for a few moment, contemplating

I have decided that I need to try to contact Edward. He said it was over; what if he was testing me? What if this is exactly what he expected me to do? I have to at least try to talk to him again. I won't be the instrument for his self-fulfilling prophesies. Driving to work, I debate when and how I should do this. I know he's been in Chicago for a few days, but assuming his plans didn't change, he should have returned to Seattle yesterday. Going to his apartment is out; he has a secure building – chances are he wouldn't let me in. Email is cowardly, and too easy to ignore. I want him to hear my voice. I decide to try calling him. I'll do it tonight.

At work, Kathleen asks me if I'd like to get together for lunch on Sunday with her and some of her friends. It sounds really nice and I gratefully accept her invitation. What Carlisle said about a support network is still true, even though Edward isn't part of it. I need to make some friends here, and I definitely don't want to spend the entire weekend in my apartment, brooding. Kathleen seems thrilled that I've agreed to go, and her infectious enthusiasm puts a grin on my face, in spite of myself.

At home after dinner, I stare out my living room window, trying to work up the nerve to call Edward; sorting out what I want to say. I know I definitely can't make unreasonable promises like I did last Friday night; but I absolutely must apologize for not being honest with him right away. Having had time to think about it has made me realize that, despite my suspicion that he would have stopped seeing me as soon as he found out, I can't let myself off the hook. I should have told him as soon as he got back from Vancouver. It's particularly deceitful since I deliberately kept it from him to protect my own interest, knowing he'd likely have an issue with it. I'm thoroughly ashamed of myself for doing it.

Of course, there's also the possibility that he'll hang up on me, not letting me explain at all. Or maybe he'll let it go to voicemail. In that case, I decide, I will going to leave a message briefly telling him that I regret concealing the truth and that I know it was wrong; and I'll ask him to please give me a call back so I can at least apologize to him directly.

My decision made, I turn quickly and resolutely away from the window and stalk to the end table, where my cell phone lays, taunting me. I take a few deep breaths to steady my nerves and my voice; and then I seize the moment and the phone. Dial Edward's home number. It rings...rings again...twice more...answering machine.

"You've reached Edward Cullen. Please leave a message, including your phone number, and I'll return your call." Short and to the point; now, for me to do the same.

"Edward...it's Jasper," I start. "I'm calling because I want to tell you that I'm so sorry that I wasn't honest with you about working with your dad. I thought I had a good reason for not telling you right away; but I was wrong. You're the one person I should have been completely honest with, right from the start. Friday night was...awful. The worst night of my life. I was hoping I could talk to you directly, to tell you how sorry I am. I hope you'll call me back--"

At that moment the machine beeps loudly in my ear, and I hear the telephone receiver being lifted. "Jasper," says Edward's voice flatly.

"Edward, I'm so glad you picked up," I begin, but he cuts me off.

"I picked up to tell you not to bother," he says bluntly. "I told you Friday – it's over."

"I know what you said," I reply. I strive to keep my voice calm and level. It's easier this time, since I don't have the panic of being afraid to lose him. He's already gone. "But I didn't get the chance to apologize properly. I asked you to put your trust in me, and I hid something very important from you. I'll regret it for the rest of my life."

"I'm not interested in your apology – it means shit to me," he snaps. The acerbity in his voice shocks me; somehow I thought that maybe with a bit of time he would have gotten some more perspective on the situation. Instead, his bitterness seems only to have grown, consuming him.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," I say quietly. "I'd hoped..."

"What? That suddenly I'd be okay that you lied to me? That it wouldn't bother me anymore?"

"That we could talk. And that...if you understood my reasons, you might be able to consider forgiving me," I reply.

He snorts. "Don't call me again, Jasper," he says curtly. His words are followed by the sound of the receiver slamming into the cradle.

I hit "end" on my cell and sink onto my couch. That didn't go well at all. So much for I'll see it through. I'm saddened, but not terribly surprised. I had hoped he might listen; but honestly, that would have been best-case scenario; and I'm enough of a realist to have known ahead of time how unlikely that would be.

And now, it's really over. No point in holding out any more hope for a reconciliation. At least I didn't allow myself to get my hopes up this time; if I had, I would have been thoroughly crushed again. I've had time for the reality to sink in, I guess. I'm sad, of course; I still love him, and I miss him. He's been my fantasy for over ten years. I suppose it's likely very true that the reality can never live up to what fantasies our minds construct for us.

I'll definitely never forget him. But perhaps some people are just too damaged, I muse. I don't have what it takes to repair him single-handedly; and there's certainly nothing I can do if he's not willing to admit the damage even to himself.

So now, I have to attempt to move on – however that's done. I remember Kathleen's invitation and manage a little smile. She has suggested Macrina Cafe down in Belltown, and promised to bring a good group of some of her best friends, both gay and straight. As I'm contemplating the prospect of making some new friends, my phone rings beside me. Just as it has done every day this week whenever my phone has rung, my heart leaps just a bit at the thought that it could be Edward. This time, it seems rather impossible, but the thought briefly flickers to my mind anyways.

I answer cautiously. "Hello?"

"Jasper!" I hear a warm, jovial voice reply.

"Jacob?" I gasp in surprise.

"You recognized my voice!" he teases; and I can picture the grin he is almost certainly wearing.

"Pffft," I reply, playfully. "Give me some credit."

"How are you?" he asks; and for a moment I don't know how to answer. Misinterpreting my silence, he quickly follows up with, "I'm not calling to make things weird. I just wanted to see how you're doing with settling in to the new place, and how you like being in Seattle."

"Well, Seattle hasn't changed all that much – it's still wet," I reply, attempting to be cheerful. "I'm enjoying the city, in spite of the rain."

"And," he continues, "how are you?"

"I'm okay," I hedge.

"Well, that's doesn't sound terribly enthusiastic," he sniffs.

"Honestly, Jake, I've been better," I admit.

"Uh-oh," his voice takes on a concerned tone. "What's wrong? Missing San Francisco?"

"Well...a bit, I guess. It's not really that, so much..."

"Then what is it?" he prompts.

"Um...I feel weird talking to you about this, Jake," I stall.

"Oh, come on," he scoffs. "We were together for three years, Jasper. We know each other pretty well. Even better since we broke up, I'd say." Ouch, I wince. That was a little below the belt. Fortunately he realizes this immediately. "Sorry; I didn't mean that the way it sounded. Honest, Jasper - I'm not calling to make you feel guilty. In fact...well, I'm seeing someone."

"Really?" I reply dubiously.

"His name's Nathan," Jake continues enthusiastically. "He's a real estate agent. I met him when I was looking for a new place to live after we....well, you know," he glazes over the awkward truth, and I choose to do the same. "We didn't start seeing each other till after I'd closed on the new place. He brought a bottle of champagne over as a thank you, and, well, we've barely left each other's side since."

"Aw, Jake," I smile in spite of myself. "That's so great. You sound so happy!" It is exactly what I'd hoped would happen for him, that he could find someone new. Jacob is such a genuinely happy and friendly person – I'm sure he had guys lining up once they heard we weren't together any longer.

"Thanks, Jasper. I've never been happier." I can hear it in his voice. "So that's why I had to call you, to tell you that I understand now what you meant – that we were better as friends. Everything was fine, of course; and it was comfortable. And I love you – I always will."

"I love you too, Jake," I murmur.

"But I understand what you were saying; because now I have this with Nathan, and it's nothing I've ever experienced before."

I'm torn between grinning and sighing – I choose grinning. "Jake, you deserve so much happiness, and I'm glad you've found it with Nathan. Can't wait to meet him."

"Thanks, Jay," he affirms. "So...are you going to tell me why you're just 'okay'?" I hesitate, and he prompts, "Aw, come on; maybe I can help."

"You can't help, Jake," I sigh. "I was seeing someone and we broke up last weekend."

"Wait, you were seeing someone already?" He repeats the same question everyone else has asked about my relationship with Edward. "Were you already involved before you moved to Seattle?"

I give him a brief recap of my relationship with Edward, touching only upon my high-school crush and our short but intense courtship; and leaving out the part about his parents.

"Wow, he sounds pretty intense," Jake whistles.

"Yeah," I nod. "Couldn't sustain itself, I guess."

"Look, baby, you know there are plenty of guys around who would jump at the chance to go out with a smexy guy like you," he assures me. "You just have to make sure they know you're available. You won't meet anyone sitting at home."

"I know," I nod. "I'm meeting some new people on Sunday; my assistant invited me out for lunch and she's bringing a group of friends."

"Good, good," he replies. "I'm glad."

I almost feel as though he's being much better to me than I deserve, given what I did to him; and so although I've told him several times before, I say again, "Jake...I'm sorry I hurt you."

"I forgive you, Jasper. How could I not? I hope you find someone too; but you know San Francisco will be here, if you ever want to come back. You'll always have a friend here; two, in fact, because Nathan wants to meet you too."

I smile. Jake is so big-hearted; I know I'll always be able to count on him. "Thanks, Jake," I whisper with gratitude.

"You're welcome," he replies. "Look, I need to get going, because I'm meeting Nate in a bit; but I just wanted to call and tell you that. And Jay?"

"Yeah?"

"Love you," he murmurs.

"Love you too," I return. "Bye, Jake."

"Bye."

Putting down the phone, I feel both sad and relieved. Jake was so blindsided when I finally admitted to him that I wasn't in love with him anymore. I felt horrible; but I couldn't go on lying to myself or to him, pretending that I was still in love with him. It wasn't fair to either of us.

But now, it seems that things have worked out for him, as he deserves them to. He has forgiven me for breaking his heart, which is, perhaps, more than I deserve; and most important, he sounds incandescently happy.

Instead, it's me who is sitting at home, nursing a wounded heart. If I was in San Francisco, my friends would support me through a mourning period; then take me out to the clubs to get me appropriately smashed and help me dance my troubles away. But I'm not in San Francisco; I'm in Seattle, by my choice. And it's time for another choice: to get my shit together. I'm not exactly ready to hit up the clubs again; but I also don't have to sit here like a lump by myself every night either. I don't have to see Edward's face every time I look at my bed.

And I definitely don't have to keep the photographs of us on my nightstand. I jump up from the couch and head to my bedroom. The photos are sit there, always ready and willing to keep my pain fresh. But no more – I retrieve them and take them to my desk in the den. I whisper, "Goodbye," to the happy pair in the frames; and then I lock them in the bottom drawer.

Time to move on, Kas.

Edward

After I hang up on Jasper, I'm trembling. Seeing his number on the caller ID was a bit of a shock; since he hasn't called me since I kicked him out of my apartment, I sort of thought he wouldn't try to call at all. Actually speaking to him has put a tightness in my chest; my legs are trembling, my hands are clenched. And yet I can't say I feel particularly angry – just shaken, as the adrenaline courses through my body.

I feel like I need to get out of my apartment; run somewhere, escape the ghosts of the conversation that linger, taunting me, in the room. I change quickly into my cold-weather running gear and flee the apartment. On the streets, I weave around obstacles, both animate and inanimate; trying to outrun the memories that lap around my feet, like being pursued by an ice-cold wave at the beach, trying to make it to the sand before the water freezes me.

My feet pound on the pavement, and I start to chant in my head, fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you, in time with my footfalls. By the time I've looped back to my building, five miles later, I feel victorious, certain that I've managed to leave the unpleasantness of those emotions behind me. I mount the stairs to my apartment cautiously, almost feeling that the memories might lay in wait to attack me again. As I open the door to my apartment, though, I have to roll my eyes at myself. Drama queen, much?

After a shower, I feel much better – the tension is gone and I feel like just relaxing. No Spin for me tonight. Instead I decide to head to my laptop and check my email. I've been waiting to hear about a job that would take me over to Italy for a week; and I'm pretty excited about it. I've been considering staying in Italy after the job for a week or two, taking a vacation. I'm going to be there anyways, and it's a good time to get away.

I click the Thunderbird link in my quick-launch toolbar, and wait as the emails populate on the screen. One is a question about licensing some of my existing portfolio for a website; I'll deal with that one tomorrow. Next is a link to my newest credit card statement – I'm sure there won't be any surprises there; I'll come back to pay it in a minute. An email from a potential client I met when I was in San Francisco; that could be a good job. But no email about the job in Italy.

I curse softly under my breath; I really want that job. Going back to the email from my credit card company, I click the link and sign in to my online statement. What the fuck? The balance is about $300 higher than I'd thought it would be. I wonder whether someone has stolen my card number? Tapping my fingers on my desk, I peruse the list of charges – everything seems fine...until I come to the charge for my cell phone bill, which I have automatically billed to the credit card. The charge for the cell phone bill is much higher than it should be – in fact, it's the entire additional amount.

Fucking cell phone company. What did they screw up now? I swear, I'm ready to switch to a different provider. I open a new browser tab and log in to the wireless company's site to view that statement. Again, all the charges look to be what they should be – the services I subscribe to are correct. I scan the list of outgoing calls; all fall within my phone plan, except one – a charge for $297.38 for an outgoing call. That's the one – they've obviously screwed up somehow.

I grab my phone and dial the customer service number for the wireless company. After going through the automated system, I finally get a customer service agent. I explain my problem to her, and she calls up my account to look at the charge.

"Okay, Mr. Cullen," she says in a soft Indian accent, "I'm showing that the reason for the high charge is that the call was made from outside the country; so roaming charges apply on top of the international rates; those charges add up very quickly, I'm afraid. I see as well that the duration of the call was quite a long time. Were you travelling outside the country recently, Mr. Cullen?...Mr Cullen? Sir, are you still there?"

As she speaks, my eyes focus on the phone number to which the call was made. I was so certain the charge was incorrect that I didn't even look at the number...but now I know...I know what this call is…I know the charge is correct.

And as the realization sets in, my heart...cold, black, frozen...it stutters.

And then...

...it shatters.

-o-

What...? Now what could that charge be for?