A/N: Thanks again to all of you reading along. I love hearing your thoughts/theories on this fic! xo

Big thanks & love to my own personal dream team: Char, Gin, Caren & Ash - they help make my words purdy and my ideas not suck so bad.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just come up with random things for them to do.

Bella

I finish with the rush of customers and take a deep breath before scanning the place. I don't see him anywhere. Panic sets in when I think I've missed my opportunity and he's run out before I've had a chance to really speak to him, to be near him. My breathing speeds up, and my chest tightens, pangs of fear and loneliness spreading throughout me. I debate running outside to see if I can still catch him walking down the sidewalk, when Alice comes over, grabbing my hand.

"It's okay, Bella," she reassures me.

"No, it's not," I say, shaking my head, slowly getting hysterical. "It's not okay, and it's not going to be okay."

Alice pulls me into her warm embrace and rubs slow circles on my lower back, calming me down as best she can.

"He's in the back by the photographs," she tells me, and I let out the breath I was holding.

Handing me a mug of tea, Alice unties my apron and pushes me from behind the counter.

"Go," she instructs, and I don't need to be told twice.

I don't rush over immediately, not wanting him to see me with red-rimmed , glassy eyes. I brace myself against a wall and take a sip of the tea, sighing at the scent of chamomile as it infiltrates my nose. A few sips and some deep breaths later, I'm calm enough to head over. Smoothing over my hair, I walk slowly and stop when I see what he's doing.

Edward is standing at the wall of photographs I've taken and is staring intently at the one of the meadow. My fingers itch, just wanting to reach out and touch him, to shake him so he can see what I do. But I don't. Instead, I bide my time, watching him take it all in, curious to see if anything jars him.

A flicker of hope occurs when I watch him close his eyes, a smile spreading across his face, but it's soon replaced with an anxious, fretful look. It doesn't suit him. I walk quietly until I'm right behind him. Suppressing the urge to gather him up in my arms, I place a hand on his shoulder.

"This one's my favorite," I say, my voice coming out only slightly above a whisper.

If he only realized why it's my favorite.

"It's gorgeous," he replies, and I nod, even though he can't see me.

"Join me for a drink?" I ask as I walk into his line of sight. I hold up my cup in friendly offering, hoping he'll take me up on it.

He stammers for a second before nodding.

"Please."

I follow him to the table he's been sitting at and slide into the chair across from him.

"Who's the artist?" he asks, motioning towards the photographs.

I blush before answering.

"Me."

He grins, taking this in.

"I knew they were beautiful for a reason."

I melt at his words, the natural flirt in him rising to the surface. It's amazing the things that are innate within us. They never seem to disappear. I clutch the mug I'm holding tighter and avert my eyes, unsure if I can keep it together if pinned under his stare.

"Thank you," I whisper.

I drain the last of my tea before setting the cup down. We talk, and it's easy and effortless, which simultaneously elates me and makes my heart clench. During a pause in the conversation, I find myself fiddling with the rim of my mug, and trace circles around it with my finger around it. I can feel the heat of his gaze and look up to see Edward staring at my ring finger. My heart immediately drops into my stomach.

He realizes he's been caught staring, and his face flushes in embarrassment, but that doesn't stop him from asking a question.

"You're, um...married?"

I fight the tears that sting at the corners of my eyes as I answer.

"Yes."

I don't elaborate, and he doesn't ask me to. Instead his eyes drift down to his own, bare hand.

"Oh," he says, as a mixture of sadness and relief creeps onto his face. "I'm not. "