oOo
"Hey, Bella. Michael."
Rosalie kissed both her cheeks. Wearing a Chanel suit, she looked every bit the successful anchorwoman she was, having just arrived from the studio where "Voices of London" was recorded. Between her and Michael, Bella felt like an ugly duckling.
"What's going on, lovely Bella? You don't look too happy!"
"Edward's gone missing," Michael hissed.
"Missing?" Rosalie's eyebrows went up. She looked as if she couldn't decide whether to laugh or freak out.
"We haven't seen him in about, I don't know, half an hour?" Bella looked at Michael. "Or was it longer?"
"Longer," Michael replied decidedly.
"Shit," Rosalie muttered. "Was he drunk?"
Bella bit her lip. The fact that this was everybody's first thought broke her heart and made her throat feel tight.
"He wasn't," Bella said, "I mean, he did drink, but… Oh, God, where is he?"
Her heart was galloping in her chest and her body broke out in goose bumps.
Rosalie seemed to sense her panic, placing her hand on Bella's arm.
"We'll go look for him, okay? He can't have vanished. As silly as my little nincompoop of a brother often is, he knows how to behave at his own –"
She was interrupted by the sound of a spoon against a glass, and a clear, female voice.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if you will please give me you attention for a moment."
Everyone gathered around the sleek gallerina, the one who was in charge, Rebecca.
"The artist Mr. Cullen had a trick up his sleeve, it seems, and he just came in with a surprise for you all. Please follow me to the room on the left to see what this wonderboy has in store for us!"
"Well, someone is enjoying the attention," Michael bitched.
The young woman made quite a show of opening the door to a previously closed-off section of the gallery, and everyone followed with expectant faces and eager whispers.
Bella, who was too small to see anything, heard a few gasps.
"Is this – ?"
"But she's exquisite!"
"Now, that's finally something new!"
Bella was beginning to feel giddy from worry, anticipation, and the crowded room.
One last, concentrated effort made her take a deep breath and wind her way through the mass of people.
An easel was in front of an otherwise empty, white wall. There was nothing but that. That, and the painting that had been placed on the easel.
That, and Edward's face, and his smile.
"I'm a very silly man," he addressed no one but her. "I think you know that by now."
He reached out for her hand and pulled her into his side, wrapping one arm around her.
"I forgot to include the most important painting," he said, and maybe he was talking to the congregation in front of him now, but Bella wouldn't know, because she was hiding her tears in his chest, holding close to him, listening to his strong heartbeat, sinking into his warmth and strength.
"I never used to believe that such a thing as a muse existed," he said, his voice reverberating against her ear. "I found it affected and a sign of not knowing your craft so you have to rely on luck, on the oft-quoted inspiration."
Bella felt him take a deep breath.
"I used to think that we can influence everything."
Another deep breath, and a kiss on her hair.
"I was wrong. Sometimes, the Gods smile on us. And they give us a muse. Which is the reason I created 'The Meadow.'"
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