oOo
"Bella," he called after her, but it was too late.
She had left.
The one good, perfect thing that had happened in his life in five years, and he had just destroyed it, as clearly as if he had done it with his own hands.
He sat down on the couch with his face in his hands, trying to proceed what had just happened.
Bella had asked him to join her and her family for their annual Christmas party, and like an asshole, he had hedged. He had yammered and whined and, like she'd said, wallowed in self-pity.
He couldn't even begin to imagine how much courage it must have cost her to take that step. He'd been holding her at arm's length all this time, not seeing how insecure it must have made her.
Even the incident with Zafrina at the ballet hadn't been enough for him to pull his head out of his arse.
He'd been so insensitive and selfish.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Edward whispered.
Irina would not come back.
He had loved her, and she had died, and she would always be a part of his life. But Bella was right.
Did he even want to get better?
He never felt that he deserved to be better, to be happy again.
Because what had happened was partly his fault, and because… because…
Edward got up, walked to the kitchen and opened the pantry door. He grabbed the bottle of Glenlivet.
.
.
.
It had been dark when he'd conked out, and it was dark when he woke again.
His whole body hurt.
Where was he?
Oh, God.
Blue tiles.
The bathroom floor.
He crawled the few feet to the toilet, and was sick again.
.
Something was beeping somewhere. Edward opened his left eye.
At least he'd made it to his bed.
One o'clock.
A.m. or p.m.?
If only his head would stop aching.
.
"Don't do this," she murmurs gently.
"I can't…"
It's all he's able to say.
"Yes, darling. You can. I know you. You're so much stronger than you know."
"But…"
"Shhh… Sleep. Everything will look better tomorrow…"
.
Edward had located a pizza in the freezer and took a shower while it was in the oven.
He'd already had a bottle of Sprite and three aspirin.
He put on jeans and a T-shirt.
He watched the news while he ate his pizza.
He checked his phone.
Three missed calls. One from his agent, two from his sister.
Nothing from Bella.
He changed the bed sheets and went back to sleep.
.
Edward worked all day next day – Wednesday – and only went to bed at three in the morning. He worked the next day as well. By the time it got dark, he was frenzied.
He'd lost her.
He'd lost Bella.
.
Edward slammed the car door shut behind him.
The lights were on in her bay window.
He hadn't prayed in five years.
oOo
Thank you so much for all the support you have shown me for this story, as well as for my other ones. I wouldn't be able to do it without you, and I'm incredibly grateful for having such wonderful, kind readers.
Have a happy and healthy 2013, here's a big hug for each and every one of you!
xoxo
Your
harperpitt