A/N: Hi ya'll! I'm back :) I am loving all the reviews, and so glad that everyone seems to be enjoying it so far! I haven't decided whether or not I'm going to be switching POV's back and forth between characters often and won't promise one way or the other. I let the characters evolve on their own and when they have something to say, I let them say it. This person had a whole lot to say. ALL mistakes are mine. Obviously.

DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to SM, I just steal them to have my wicked way with them from time to time.

Chapter 4

? POV

After

I'm a planner, a plotter, a fixer, a perfectionist. I always have been and I always will be. Maybe, that's why, when I'm standing in line at Starbucks, I'm plotting all the different ways I can beat the guy that's at the counter over the head.

I could use my shoe, but that would be a waste of a good Jimmy Choo.

I could always go for the chair method, but that would cause me to lose my spot in line, and I'll be damned if the indecisive, stuttering buffoon is going to waste any more of my time.

By my time, I really mean Tanya's time. She's getting married today, and it's my job to cater to her every need. I'm her assistant after all, and if I don't get caffeine to her STAT, she'll chew me up and spit me out before you can say the word bitch. Which she is. A huge one actually, but I digress.

Finally, after what could have been half a Venti's worth of macchiato later, I see the offender reach in his back pocket, pull out his wallet, and pay for the drink that took him 5 minutes to decide on. I notice a flash of his plain gold wedding band, and I scoff. What person in their right mind would make THAT horrible decision? It makes me lose faith in humanity to think that this is what people find attractive. I mean, let's be honest with ourselves. Who wants a man who can't even decide on fucking coffee?

Maybe I'm being too harsh on the guy. He is rather pretty, now that I can get a good look at him. Smirking, I wonder how he proposed. I bet it took him years to decide on how to phrase the question. Sighing, I roll my eyes and shake my head, snapping myself out of my pre-coffee mode. I strain my neck to look around the shelves of hipster cd's, and see only two other people left in line ahead of me. Hopefully, decision making is a strong skillset of theirs. I'm already running late as it is, and Tanya is probably in a horrible mood. Let me rephrase-Tanya is always in a horrible mood.

I feel a buzzing on my side, and it takes me half a second longer than it should to realize that it's my phone.

"Shit." I frantically open my purse and dig through it, trying to find the stupid thing. Why I use a big ass purse is beyond me. I know, with certainty, that anything that enters has a 50/50 chance of being found again, yet I still pick these gigantic lost and found bags, because of the way they look.

After 5 chapsticks, 3 tampons, a piece of paper, 2 hair ties, about 4 million bobby pins and 3 things I forgot I even owned, I find my phone.

"YES!"

I shout this while simultaneously throwing my still ringing Iphone in the air, waving it around in glory. I am thrilled beyond belief, and take a quick look around only to realize that nobody else is recognizing my amazing victory. My smile disappears because I've just realized that I look like an idiot. My cheeks heat up with embarrassment and I look down at my now silent phone.

1 Missed Call. Tanya.

Well, damn.

Quickly, I hit the call button.

"Where the fuck have you been?" I hear the screech on the other line, and my whole body instantly recoils.

"I'm so sorry Tanya, some idiot at Starbucks took 20 minutes. I'm on my way right now. Ten minutes, I promise."

"Five minutes and not a second more. I can't believe you wouldn't call to tell me you were running late on such an important day! The biggest day of my life! It's 6:30 in the morning already, and I needed you here an hour ago."

I pull my phone away from my ear and stare at it with an incredulous look. She hung up on me. Not that I'm surprised. I'm sure that the fine people of Starbucks all think I'm certifiable at this point. This is because I can think of no better way to handle my anger than shaking my fist, and whispering "fuck you AND your five minutes" to the dark screen of a phone. I hear a forced cough behind me and I look up to see that it's my turn at the counter. I sheepishly smile at the angry man behind me, and turn to place my order. After 5 ridiculously overpriced orders are paid for and received, I make my way to what is sure to be the longest day of my life.

Before

"Where do you picture yourself after college?" Bella asks.

She's laying on her back with her head hanging off the edge of her bed, reading cosmopolitan. I look up from reading mine, and give her a confused look.

"What do you mean? I'm sure I'll be just like my mother. Wearing dresses and pearls, kissing my loving husband and making peanut butter sandwiches for my kids." I smirk at her, because we both know that I'm full of shit. I don't want to be anything like my mother.

My mother is nothing short of The Stepford Wife. She hides behind home cooked meals, apple pies and luncheons with the other neighborhood wives, where they talk about how great their life is, and ignore the fact that their husbands are off fucking secretaries.

Let's not even get into the cluster fuck that is my father. Sure he gives me the pats on the head, along with the "honeys" and "sweethearts", but he doesn't fool me. I hear the way my mother cries at night when she thinks no one can hear. I see the way she uses cover up to hide the bags and the bruises. I smell the cheap perfume he reeks of every time he walks in the door. It pisses me off, because he doesn't even try to cover it up. He might as well walk in with the tramp attached to his dick, while he hums Akuna Matata and asks "What's for dinner?"

It's revolting. He doesn't love my mother, he loves his whore on the side, and I can't for the life of me figure out why she does nothing about it, except pretend.

She pretends she's happy.

She pretends he doesn't love that whore.

She pretends that he gives a damn.

She pretends that it doesn't bother her that she's his second choice.

Bella giggles and throws her magazine at me. Sitting up, she stares at me quizzically.

"I just don't get it. Why would you NOT want to get married? I mean, I understand that your parents are hardly setting a great example… but don't you want to find that one person who you love so much that you can't imagine your life without them?" She dramatically clutches her heart and falls back onto the bed.

I snort. "Yeah, right. You act like suitors are lined up at my door. Not everyone has an Edward, Bella. I'm lucky enough to have found you, Rose and Alice when we started college. I'm not going to push my luck by wishing for a guy, too."

"You're ridiculous. You're gorgeous."

"Be serious, Bella." I roll my eyes and tuck my hair behind my ear.

"I am serious, damnit! You can't tell me you don't realize how gorgeous you are. Look in the mirror, woman. Long strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes. Big boobs. You. Are. A. hot. Piece. Of. Ass."

She stops for a moment and puts her finger in the air, like she's had a revelation.

"In fact, I think I might be jealous. Yep, not to mention that you're the smartest, funniest, most sarcastic bitch I've ever known, and any man would be lucky to have you!"

With that she jumps off the bed, smacks my ass and walks out the door. She walks back in three minutes later.

"Sorry, had to make a grand exit to prove my point." She nods her head and crosses her arms. Satisfied that she's convinced me, she flops back on the bed, and starts to read her magazine again. I look back down at my own magazine, but my thoughts are elsewhere.

"Don't worry." Bella says, pulling me out of my thoughts. "I'll make sure you get the full wedding experience when you're planning mine! Maybe that will change your mind."

After

I'm pulled out of my memories by the knock on my car window. Tanya's wedding was the most exhausting experience of my professional and personal life combined, and I have no idea how long I've been sitting in my driveway. Looking around, I can see the sun has set and the stars are out. Weddings always do this to me. They always remind me of things I'd rather not remember.

I used to think my mother was so weak because she wouldn't leave my father. I hated the way she would look up at him with doe eyes while he had lipstick stains on his collar. She idolized him until her dying day.

It's been 8 years since she died and I wish I could tell her how sorry I am for judging something I couldn't comprehend. I would tell her that I understand her now. I get it. She loved him so much that she would take any piece she could get, no matter how small that piece was.

I turn off my car and open the door to get out.

"Hey, what are you doing out here? It's freezing, come inside where it's warm."

I smile up at my husband and soak in his features. Even after all this time, his smile still takes my breath away. He brushes the back of his hand against my cheek and gives me a soft, chaste kiss. He starts to pull back, but I reach up and grab his shirt to pull him back in. I lightly nibble on his lower lip until he opens up and I swipe my tongue against his. Suddenly, we're all hands and rough and passion. One hand is gripping my waist and the other is cupping my cheek, as he pushes me up against the car with his body. Breaking the kiss, he trails kisses up my jawline towards my ear.

"I missed you today." He whispers into my skin. I grab his hand and squeeze lightly. He smiles softly, and leads me inside.

I'm a planner, a plotter, a fixer, a perfectionist. This is who I always have been, and always will be. Maybe, that's why I pretend.

I pretend that it doesn't bother me when he stares off into nothing with a vacant, haunted look.

I pretend not to notice how certain smells or songs make his whole body go rigid.

I pretend that he loves me.

I pretend that I'm not his second choice.

I pull his hand and force him to turn around to face me, and I reach up to trace my fingers along his jaw. I sigh and lean into him, relishing in his touch. He put his hand under my chin and lifts my head up, so I'm staring into his searching eyes.

"Everything okay?" He asks.

I give him a kiss and smile, pushing down my emotions and locking them away.

"Yeah, everything's perfect."

I stand on my tip toes and wrap my arms around his neck to give him a peck on the lips.

"I love you so much, Edward."