oOo
Edward was quiet over dinner, saying that he'd not painted anything. It had been like that for him a few weeks now. In the beginning, he'd merely taken a break to recharge his batteries, but now it was becoming increasingly obvious that he was suffering from some kind of block.
She reached for his hand across the table, braiding her fingers with his. She gave him a small smile.
"You okay?"
"Hmm." He speared a piece of broccoli. "This is really good."
"Thanks."
Another silence enwrapped them. It wasn't so much unpleasant as it was concerning her. She hated to see Edward unhappy, and it was pretty clear that he was.
"Is everything all right?" she finally asked.
Edward sighed, putting down his fork. His eyes were hooded, his expression tense.
"Please, darling. I'm worried about you."
"It's…" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tomorrow is the anniversary of Irina's death."
It was as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice over her. She hadn't expected that.
"Oh," she said. "I didn't know."
"How could you?" He was watching her, and sighed. He gave her hand a squeeze.
"What do you usually do?"
"I go to the cemetery." He swallowed. "Tanya and Kate, her sisters, sometimes come. Haven't heard from them in a really long time though."
"Are you going tomorrow?" Her voice was thick due to the lump in her throat.
"I don't know. Would you mind?"
"Of course not," she said, mostly meaning it.
Over the past six months, Edward had convinced her, by word and deed, that she was the only one on his mind and in his heart. He had a right to remember his deceased wife. She only hoped it wouldn't stir up any sleeping dragons. Dragons living at the bottom of a bottle.
"Would… would you come with me?"
She considered it for a moment.
"Yes," she finally said. "If you want me to."
.
It wasn't even that weird, standing next to him in front of a white tombstone, guarded by a white angel. Edward had brought flowers, and they were silent. The sun was shining brightly over Brompton Cemetery, making all the new leaves on the trees bright green.
Edward's large, warm hand was wrapped around hers.
Next to the pale pink amaryllis from Edward was a humongous bouquet of white roses, with a card that said, Your loving family.
It was a peaceful place, Bella thought, staring at the stone. She'd offered to leave Edward alone, but he'd merely shaken his head, a small smile on his lips. Being here didn't seem to pull him into any dark recesses of his mind.
They didn't stay long, and though Edward was quiet as they made their way back to the car, she could see that he was okay from the serene look in his eyes, his posture, his vibe.
And much later that night, she wasn't surprised when Edward emerged from his studio, telling her he'd painted for three hours straight.
oOo
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