oOo
They sat in Edward's kitchen until midnight, talking, laughing, holding hands. There were small and big kisses, gentle touches, and shared secrets.
Edward's amazement at Bella's bravery and maturity kept growing.
He was sixteen years older and felt like a complete dork in comparison to her.
She was adorable in every way, and he simply couldn't believe that she didn't see herself as the beautiful person she was, inside and out.
She was quite open about her problems, now that she had finally told him about them. Edward had learned that she was still seeing her therapist every two or three months, and that, although she was eating three meals a day, she still had some rules ingrained into her brain. Sugar, fat and carbohydrates were difficult subjects.
"But you had a cup of cocoa the other day, at Chocolate Heaven…"
"I told you I'm working on it."
And her impish smile went straight to his heart.
"Bella." He kissed the inside of her wrist. "You're remarkable."
She leant into his palm and smiled. She closed her eyes.
They could be silent together, and that was something Edward had never experienced before with anyone.
He studied her lovely face, her pretty nose, her luscious lips, her milky-pale skin.
He was itching to go up to his studio and paint.
She opened her eyes. She looked quite sleepy.
"I'm sorry," she smiled.
"It's okay, love. More than okay." He kissed her lips. "I'll call you a cab, okay?"
Her expression changed minimally, and he anticipated her protests.
"Please?"
"Okay."
She moved closer and kissed him, and it was not a "thanks-for-calling-a-cab" kiss.
Edward could still feel her lips on his half an hour later, when she'd gone.
He was riled up, and there was no way he'd be able to sleep after everything that Bella had told him. His mind and heart were in turmoil as he processed everything that had happened.
How could a person as pure and beautiful as Bella have gone through so much?
How could she ever have thought that she wasn't pretty? That she wasn't enough? How could she ever have doubted her own strength and uniqueness? Her beauty?
He was raging inside. Bella was the most precious factor in his life. He'd never felt this way with anyone.
Not even with Irina.
The thought that Bella, his beautiful Bella, had been cheated on by a silly boy, and that it had driven her into a relapse, made him crazy. He wanted to punch something, to scream.
He knew, of course, how to cope with his feelings..
Edward wasn't even realizing what he was doing when he poured himself a glass of Glenlivet. It had been his way of coping for so long.
He went up to his studio and started to paint, losing himself in his art until the sky became grey, and he stumbled into bed at six-thirty.
The glass of Scotch was still on the cupboard, next to his paintbrushes.
It was untouched.
oOo