A/N: Thanks again to all of you reading along. I love hearing your thoughts/theories on this fic! I promise that nothing will remain a mystery and you'll get more info with each chapter.

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.

Edward

I can't stop staring at my naked hand. I rub the ring finger of my left hand over and over until I swear I almost see a faint indentation from where a wedding band would be. I'm not sure why it hurts so much when Bella tells me she's married. Of course she is, why wouldn't she be? She's beautiful and successful and clearly very talented. I almost want to ask her if the photographs are for sale, but I can't bring myself to do so.

She watches me with pain in her eyes as I mess with my hand, so I drop them, not wanting to be the cause of her sadness. I don't need or want her pity. We stand there, the silence encompassing us, until I feel as if I'm almost suffocating from it. I wrack my brain to come up with an excuse to leave, but something is rooting me to the spot.

"Bella!" calls a voice, and I turn to see a girl with fiery curls tossed up in a haphazard bun. "I'm so sorry to do this to you right now, but we're backed up and Peter's not here yet and Alice is all tied up in the kitchen, and..."

"Victoria," answers Bella wearily, cutting off the girl. "It's fine. I'll be there in one second."

My chest tightens with the realization that our time together is over. I try and feel an ounce of shame, knowing that this beautiful woman is already spoken for, yet I simply can't do it.

"Edward, I..." Bella starts, and I can already hear the list of excuses and explanations wanting to escape her lips. So, she surprises me when she continues speaking.

"...I need to go. But, hopefully I'll see you later?"

It's a question, putting the ball in my court, and I honestly have no idea what to say. Every fiber of my being is aching to say yes. I want to talk to her again, get to know her and... I stop myself before I allow any indulgence of impossible fantasies. I sigh, my shoulders sagging a bit under the weight of my decision.

"Perhaps," I offer Bella in response, followed by a small smile. That seems to placate her, and I feel her hand squeeze my shoulder as she walks swiftly past.

I stare after her retreating figure until she disappears amidst a crowd of people up by the counter. I watch until I can no longer make out her shiny chestnut brown hair amongst the rest. I turn back around, hoping to at least lose myself in the photographs again, only to be disappointed to see that a couple is standing in front of them. The man has his arm slung around the girl, and she leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. They look happy and light, without a care in the world.

I envy them.

oOo

"Mr. Cullen," somebody greets me upon my entrance to the building, and I nod in their direction.

I shuffle back in, the drab gray walls almost painful in contrast to the warmth and brightness of Bella's cafe. Despite having had the scone a little while ago, my stomach contracts, feeling hollow and empty.

I guess I should find something to eat.

The smell of cooking food grabs my attention, and allowing my nose to lead, I walk down the hall. I stop when I see an open space with a buffet of food spread out on a long table. I walk over and glance at the offerings. Nothing stands out really, but it looks edible enough, so I take an empty plate from a smiling person wearing an apron and pile some on.

Turning around, I see tables set up on the other side of the room, a lone daisy perched in a vase on the center of each one. I sit down at a vacant table and take a few bites of the food in front of me. It's mushy, bland and barely edible. So much for my previous thought. My taste buds crave Bella's flavorful scone, bursting with spices. Realizing that I won't get anything like that here, I sigh and scoop another forkful of what I think is chicken into my mouth. Resigned, I chew, swallow and repeat the process, eager to quell my hunger, despite never really feeling satisfied.

My head hangs low through most of the meal, but once I finish, I allow myself to look up. A few of the other tables are occupied, some with couples, others with just one person like myself. Nobody catches my eye, though, so I push my chair back, ready to leave and go back to the solitude and familiar comfort of my place.

As I'm about to stand up, my eye catches the daisy on my table and something tugs at the back of my brain. A fuzzy image of a couple racing through a meadow, laughing. The girl runs behind a large tree as if to hide, but the man immediately finds her and they fall into the dewy grass, dotted with daisies. I strain to make out their faces, to no avail, and when the sound of a nearby chair scraping across the linoleum pulls me out of my head, I notice my hands are clammy with sweat beading at my temple.

I struggle to catch my breath and take my napkin to wipe away the wetness that has spilled over onto my cheek .