Disclaimer: I don't even own Earl Grey tea and we certainly don't own Edward or any other of those beautiful characters. But I own the picture I took of Rob Pattinson last weekend from 200m afar. Well yeah, better than nothing, right?

Chapter 5 – Wake Up Call

disappointed, disillusioned, re-affirm my view,

we've all a story to sell,

we've all a lie that we tell,

and it goes on and on, and on and on.

(Budapest – Is This The Best It Gets)


Bella Swan

"The plan is, that I call the bank first thing tomorrow morning. I'm going to ask them about the transfers and about the money and the receiver of everything and then I'm going to call whoever is behind this business and collect more information," Edward said, as if this was the best idea he ever had.

If this truly was his plan, I was mistaken. It wasn't a plan at all.

"That is the stupidest idea I've ever heard," I answered him and stepped out of his way. "Come on, take a seat again. Do you want anything else to drink?"

"Well, no, I have to go," he said hesitantly. "Why do you think my plan is stupid?" he enquired further, not moving to follow my invitation.

"Just because. Have you ever tried to get information out of some bank clerk? They won't tell you anything," I said, walking into my living room with hopes he might follow. He did.

"Why wouldn't they? It's my company. My money being transferred."

"Well yeah and you probably can stop the transfers right away, but they won't give you any information about this 'Fagur Alit' thing."

He fell down on my couch and grabbed his mug once more to take another sip. It was followed by some quiet cursing and I'm pretty sure I heard him say something like "it's even worse when it's cold". The mug was placed securely on the table as he leaned his head against the back rest of my sofa just to close his eyes again.

"So what is your awesome plan? Sit here and wait to get arrested? I can't do that."

"Of course not. They won't arrest you, when you didn't do anything. The police know how to deal with those things. Just have a little faith here, please."

"There was a murder today. Sorry if I don't have any faith left right now," he said touchily. "You don't understand. They think I did it. The detective, how he looked at me? That was determination. He wants me to be the killer."

"That's bullshit! Nobody wants you to be the killer. Stop being so overdramatic. You're imagining things here. Maybe you should just lie down and rest for a few hours."

Was I offering him my couch for the night right now? Oh god, I hadn't planned this.

He stared at me.

"Rest? Like I can fucking rest when my life is crashing down in front of me."

His words startled me. Although I knew he had a problem with his temper, he wasn't one for cursing a lot; he had seemed too collected all the time.

"Edward," I tried to calm him. "How about I make us some nice breakfast and then we could go through the whole thing again. You could have a look at my notes about the case. I have the feeling that I'm missing something." I stood, not waiting for his reply. It was a rhetorical question after all. So I strolled into the kitchen and began making an early breakfast. The living room remained silent so I figured Edward was indeed resting a bit.

Suddenly a thought crossed my mind. Of course! Why didn't I think of that earlier? While researching all the journalistic resources I completely missed the public ones. I literally sprinted back into my bedroom to the still running computer. Eagerly I waited for the browser to start, then opened google and searched for the Icelandic company registry. Certainly all of this didn't slip Edwards attention. He looked a little puzzled as he hastily joined me.

"What's the matter?"

"Basically we forgot the most obvious thing. In almost every country, companies have to be registered to some kind of authority. And the best part," I smiled at him, "is that they give information to anyone because it's you know, a public registry."

"Sounds too good to be true," he answered doubtfully. He stayed anyway, not sitting this time, but standing behind me, resting his hands on the back of the chair. I would have been intimidated if I wasn't so excited that we were finally getting the information we needed.

"So, here we go." I eyed the website of the public registry in Iceland and soon found what I was looking for. I typed in the data and hit 'Order document'. Edward leaned in even closer, as we both nervously waited for the result.

'For the requested documents a manual processing is needed. The documents will be sent to fulfil your order within the next 7 days.'

"Oh no!"

"Shit. I'm screwed," Edward spat out fiercely.

"It says 'within 7 days', maybe we will get it sooner," I tried not to sound too defeated.

He muttered, shaking his head, "Not with my luck," and scuffled out of the room. I followed him and found him walking in circles in my living room again. The air was buzzing with his tension. "Edward."

He didn't hear me at all.

So, I stepped in his way, and as I placed one of my hands on his shoulder he finally stopped, recognising me. Staring at me.

"Edward," I repeated myself, "listen to me. You really need to rest a bit. Being tired out won't help you at all. You need to keep a clear head."

His eyes left mine and followed my arm up to my hand on his shoulder and then he looked me in the eyes again. Oh no, I just crossed a line here. I shouldn't have touched him. Being allowed to call him by his given name was no invitation to touch him. Although my instincts screamed at me to give this sad, hopeless man a hug, I withdrew my hand immediately and took a step back.

He looked at me for a few seconds longer and murmured a quiet "thank you" before returning to his seat on my couch. Alright, definitely no more touching!

"I'm going to go back to the kitchen to make breakfast. Do you have any preferences?" I asked to distract myself and to lighten the bitter mood he was in.

He turned his head and looked over his shoulder in my direction. "If you've got some tea and if it doesn't cause inconvenience, I would really appreciate a cup. This coffee, well --," he trailed off.

I had to smile at that. "Is Earl Grey alright? I don't have anything else here right now."

"Of course, it's my favourite. With milk if possible?"

With that he turned around, rested his head comfortably on the back of the sofa and I went towards the kitchen. While the water started boiling, I made another coffee for me and put some cheese, jam and toast on the small table in my kitchen. I thought about making eggs, but it wasn't the right hour for eggs, so I kept it simple. When his tea was ready, I poured myself another cup of coffee and called his name. No answer. I called again, but no reaction whatsoever. If he snuck out without telling me, there would be hell to pay. But as I entered my living room to look for him, he was still there. Eyes closed and the most peaceful expression on his face. No more frowns. He had laid himself down again; his feet hanging over the end of the armrest, his hair sticking out in every direction, a few strands falling onto his forehead. How the hell did this beautiful man end up on my sofa?

I decided to let him rest and catch up on some well-deserved sleep for a few hours, although I was as far away from sleep as I could get right now. I approached him slowly and pulled carefully on the blanket, which was draped over the armrest and stuck under his legs and feet. Finally I managed to get it out without waking him, unfolded it and placed it on top of his body, tucking him in.

I got my coffee and some toast from the kitchen and settled down in my armchair to think this through one more time. Edward Cullen didn't murder Claire McNamara. I knew this right away, but now I was absolutely sure. Well, maybe not absolutely, but I couldn't deny, I trusted him for some irrational reason. Besides that, I disagreed with him on one thing: we shouldn't leave the police out of this. They had other possibilities, access to more information and more experience with this kind of stuff. Maybe I should call Charlie first thing in the morning and ask him for help; he would know what to do. We clearly were out of options, so Edward couldn't exactly argue at this point.

Edward.

His name still sounded a little strange and at the same time oddly familiar in my head. I didn't even know why I was so determined to help him, but he was different now from the man I met a few days ago. His eyes were hurt and sad and I wanted it gone. I realised that sad was even worse than bored and arrogant. I wanted his stupid cocky behaviour back; I didn't want to pity him. I wanted to help him and then tease him about his musical taste some more and I wanted to make him like my coffee and I wanted to touch him. Well, maybe not too much of the touching though - no more crossing the lines.

To occupy and distract myself, I played my favourite little mind game: transfer a real-life-person into a character worth writing a novel about.

Let's see, Edward. He definitely had to be a lord or something cheesy like that. British to the bone, old-fashioned, arrogant, rich and awfully handsome. Maybe a little glum too, but about nothing in particular, just because he existed. Probably the book would take place in the 17th century. Of course I'd change Edward's name into something totally different so he wouldn't recognize himself, like.....

... Edmund.

Okay, okay. Maybe I'll need some more time to think about the name. I'm not going to write that book anyway though. I think Pride and Prejudice already exists.

That's the thing about writing a novel. I always got to a point where somebody, somewhere already had written the story. That's why I almost stopped writing fiction completely lately. I had to admit though, Edmund would be a perfect start for a fascinating fictional character. With some time on my hands, I would totally write down a characterisation of him. I was bursting with ideas now and was about to get a notepad when the phone rang.

I glanced at the clock; it was barely seven. The last time I got a call this early in the morning, someone was murdered. I wasn't eager to answer the phone at all, but Edward was still asleep and if I didn't answer it soon he'd probably wake from the annoying noise.

"Hello?" I spoke quietly.

"Bella?"

"Who's speaking?" I asked, despite the fact that I already knew. It was Jacob, so basically the police. Something bad must have happened again. I knew this wasn't a casual call, not at this time of day.

"Sorry for calling you so early, Bells. This is Jacob speaking, Jacob Black."

Bells. I seriously had to ask Charlie if he had kept calling me Bells in the office. Maybe that's where Jacob got the nickname from.

"Hey Jacob. Don't worry, I was up anyway. What's wrong?"

"There is indeed something wrong," he said with a voice full of concern. "I know you're working on the Cullen case, right?"

"Well, yeah, at least I try to."

"The thing is, I'd rather see you not working on it anymore. This is dangerous and not safe. Especially for you."

"What do you mean by especially for me? I don't understand. It's my job. I'm writing about it."

"Well, I expected that you would need some kind of explanation from me. But I wish you wouldn't, because I don't want to scare you."

"Oh come on, spit it out now. What is the matter?"

"Bells, I'm sorry. We did an examination of Mr. Cullen's office computer. We found a picture of you on his hard drive,"

I gulped, "What?" Good morning weirdness, how are you today?

"What kind of picture?" He didn't stalk me and take pictures of me through windows or standing behind bushes, right?

"We found out it was downloaded from the website of the paper you're working at," Jacob answered and although this was weird enough, I was a little relieved.

"You have to be careful Bells. I don't know what his intentions are, but you're probably in danger. We're already looking for him, but so far we had no luck."

Go figure. You're looking at all he wrong places.

Just to be sure, I looked outside the window onto the street - no police cars.

Jacob was still talking to me: "-- please just keep your distance from Edward Cullen and be observant. If anything unusual happens, call me right away, understood?"

You mean something like him at my apartment in the middle of the night?

"Okay uhm-- sure. And what exactly happens to him if you're going to find him?" I tried to sound collected and insouciant, but was entirely nervous on the inside.

"We're going to arrest him. I'm pulling all the strings here, because I have a very bad feeling with this. Charlie would bury me alive if something happens to you. Mr. Cullen is under strong suspicion and we can't guarantee that he won't kill again. And given the danger of absconding we're going to keep him in custody if we'll locate him."

Custody? He was supposed to go into prison? I looked at him over my shoulder for a moment. Well I admit, him having a picture of me on his computer was beyond creepy, but there was just no way they could lock him away behind iron bars and concrete walls. There could be other reasons for a picture of me on his computer, like -- well I couldn't think of anything right now, but there must be something.

"Okay Jacob. Thanks for calling." I wanted to end this conversation. I needed to figure out why Edward had my picture on his computer.

"Oh and Bells, I called your dad," Jacob said and then instantly hung up on me. Bastard. He knew I would be pissed about that. Though that problem wasn't the most urgent one right now.

Edward and his stalker tendencies were first on my list.

I turned to wake him, but he was already up, looking at me. He had the nerve to sit all comfy like he belonged on my couch, his hair slightly rumpled and his eyes soft and grateful. At least until he got a hint on my mood.

Edward Cullen

I woke to a soft and warm murmur somewhere close, which was undeniably the soothing voice of Bella Swan. She was talking to someone and since my eyes were still closed, I was fairly certain it wasn't me she was talking to. I wasn't dreaming either. The moment was warm and comfortable and her voice sounded nice, like a sweet melody in my head - I hadn't dreamt of warm and comfortable for a very long time. And although reality hadn't exactly been warm and comfortable either the last couple of months, I was almost sure this wasn't an illusion.

To check my theory, I opened my eyes a little to slowly adjust them to the dim light. Sure enough I was still on the couch in Bella Swan's living room, the red fluffy cushions a comfortable place for my head to rest a little while longer. No fuzzy 'where am I?' or 'what am I doing here?' was twisting up my mind, because I knew instantly where I was. Her scent was lingering all around me, especially when I pulled the blanket over my head to inhale the flowery smell.

I stopped my motions. A blanket? Maybe there was some fuzziness after all. I couldn't remember a blanket when I passed out on her sofa after exhaustion got the best of me earlier. Warmth was spreading through me and not because of the blanket itself, but because of the kind gesture Bella showed towards me. I had been in desperate need of some kind of comfort last night and there she was, providing it for me. A small grateful smile spread across my face. After all, she cared.

I heard her voice again and located it somewhere behind me.

Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, I sat up and turned my head to see her standing with her back to me, looking out of the window and onto the streets. Daylight was already shining through and the morning sun was lightning up the room in a warm light. I must have slept for a couple of hours.

The words she said didn't really get through to me, since I was too mesmerised by her mere presence, my focus concentrated only on her.

Her hair was tamed in a messy ponytail, which she made right after she had led me into her apartment earlier. I had been beyond grateful when she finally opened her door to me. If my situation wasn't so sincere, I would probably have commented on how cute she was looking in her light blue pyjama, her cheeks turned into this beautiful shade of red. But I didn't and she left me standing in her hallway and disappeared through a door to an enclosed room. Stunned I stood in her hallway not sure about where to go and what to do, until I figured it would be safe to go into her living room.

Her apartment wasn't big, but it was nicely arranged and fit her perfectly in it's simplicity and warmness. I looked around a little, strolled past the shelves and cupboards and found a few pictures positioned near her small TV. A younger version of her was shown in one of them, embraced in a motherly affection by a woman in her late thirties. In another one she was standing next to a man, who I assumed to be her father. He was wearing a police uniform, standing tall and proud beside his daughter.

I was amazed by my stupidity. I, the murder suspect, was sincerely trying to prove my innocence to the police that was clearly against me, and asked a woman, who was the daughter of some police officer, to help me. And on top of that, she was a journalist, who could shred me into pieces with her next article if she took sides with the police.

But she didn't.

For some wonderful reason she believed in my innocence.

Although the police daughter in her surfaced pretty frequently.

After the music snob in me had examined her little CD collection and actually found a couple of pretty decent CDs, she came back. Changed into some sweater and her hair tamed in that cute ponytail I was currently staring at, while she still held the phone to her ear with those delicate hands. Oh yeah, her hands.

Our fingers had touched for a brief moment when I reached over her table to give the post-it from Claire to her. I didn't do it on purpose and our hands just barely grazed each other, but her fingers were all warm and soft and nice and it was like my whole body could feel her touch. Bella probably didn't feel any of this. She just read the note I had given her and then we kept talking about all the things I had found out at the office.

The next time she touched me had been even stranger.

I explained my need to find the killer and she took everything in with a certainty I envied. After she chastised me for going back to the office, she told me about the phone call she had witnessed in the Gateshead building that fit perfectly to the note I found in Claire's desk. Just one more link to James Barth in this puzzle that still missed the most important parts.

Bella did some research with her "time-machine" that surprisingly wasn't placed on a mahogany desk in her home office, but on an old chipboard-desk in the corner of her small bedroom. It was a mystery how she could work in that environment and write those amazingly well researched articles, staring at the white ingrain wallpaper in front of her while waiting for the computer to do anything at all.

When she wasn't able to find the answers to my questions, I decided to finally leave her alone. It was about time, too. I had kept her from well-deserved sleep the whole night and my excuse for that disappeared as soon as Bella ran out of options to extend her research.

The only reason for staying was my selfish attraction towards her, that I couldn't act on. I needed to leave her out of this. The images of Claire were still fresh in my mind and to imagine someone else getting hurt and that someone might be Bella was just too much to bear. She shouldn't be part of this.

I started pacing through her room again, since it wasn't exactly an option to run around the block a couple of times. It helped my nerves when I was in motion, the movements clearing my head of unwanted thoughts. But suddenly Bella stood right in front of me, stopping me mid-stride.

She said something about 'being tired' and 'a clear head', but her words didn't make any sense. Her hand was placed on my shoulder and it was soft and firm at the same time. I felt the need to just grab it and place it in mine and hold it there. But I didn't. Instead I looked into her eyes again and tried to figure out if she felt something similar. If she wanted me to take her hand. If maybe she would accept when I would just kiss her. But there was nothing if not just the opposite: she quickly pulled her hand back.

But that was fine for now. She had already given me more than she probably knew. Her simple touch made me a little more confident for what might be coming in the future.

The prospect of some proper tea made me even happier, but unfortunately Bella's sofa felt too comfortable to stay awake on it long enough to have a cup.

It was only then that I realized what a selfish bastard I had been again. The now cold Earl Grey was standing untouched on the table. Bella made breakfast, Bella let me in, let me stay, offered her couch, offered her help. And I fell asleep. Simple as that. As a response to her cordiality I fell asleep. Can someone be any less grateful than me? But I couldn't ignore that I hadn't felt so rested for at least the last two days, although I couldn't have slept for more than two hours. More likely even less.

I was just contemplating what I could do to make it up to her, when a silent beep of her phone indicated that she had hung up. Before I could do or say anything she turned in my direction and looked at me with narrowed eyes. The kindness and pity was gone completely.

"The police called!"

"Okay?" I replied alerted to whatever that might mean.

"They inspected your computer."

I knew that - or at least I assumed. There wasn't much they could have found on it though. Just presentations, boring e-mails and maybe my non work-related internet-history. Everytime I was bored I surfed the internet and that might have happened a little too often, I guess. But since it was my firm and I was my own boss that was nothing they could really blame me for.

I stayed silent and waited for Bella to keep on explaining what the police told her, but what she told me next was the most embarrassing thing that could have happened. Ever.

"You saved a picture of me on your hard-drive!"

My eyes were about to pop out of my head. Oh bloody hell! I totally forgot! I grabbed the blanket a little tighter and even thought about pulling it over my head and hide beneath. Play it cool Edward. Don't show your guilty embarrassment. And think! Just think of some stupid excuse! Fast.

"Yes, I might have done that," was my brilliant reply.

"Why?" she demanded.

"Because I.... I'm not good with computers and saved it unwittingly?"

A bitter laugh was all the answer I got. I screwed this up. Why had I saved that stupid picture? Because she was looking cute. Right. I couldn't tell her that or could I? No definitely not.

She turned away, her disappointed eyes leaving mine.

"Bella, please wait. Sit down. I'm sorry."

She stopped her walk into the kitchen, balled her fists and turned to me again.

"What the hell is going on here, Edward? I don't know you. Maybe you killed Claire after all. Maybe I'm just too naïve to see the real you. I just don't know anymore." A tear rolled down her cheek and I had to close my eyes and turn my head away in shame. "Jacob just told me that I am probably your next victim and I didn't even think about telling him that you're here in my living-room, sleeping. And then I ask you some simple question and you lie to me and I'm just so confused. So please just tell me the truth or leave, because I'm really tired now and you.... I don't know who you are."

I turned to face her again.

"Oh god Bella, please, don't cry. You do know me. I didn't kill Claire. Please, just believe me. I'm stupid." I tried to think of something to say that would make this better, but there just wasn't anything left to say. So instead I shrugged the blanket off my shoulders and stood up to walk over to where she was still standing completely motionless except for the silent tears that now ran freely down her face. But as I made a few steps in her direction, she stepped backwards, a look of fright and disappointment directed at me. I stopped my movements and began talking again. The truth. She needed to hear the truth. I could give her that. At least part of it.

"I'm so sorry Bella. I saved this picture of you because... well, because you were angry with me and that made me sad and your smile in that picture made me happy again. I know this sounds stupid and it obviously is stupid, but I can't help this now. I didn't kill Claire and I definitely have no intentions of killing you or anyone else for that matter. Can you please trust me again? No more lies. I promise." I risked another step in her direction and fortunately she didn't shy away from me. Her fists unclenched and she ran the back of her hand across her face to wipe the tears away. I made a few more steps in her direction until I stood right in front of her.

The desire to just kiss those remaining tears away was overpowered by my desire to just hold her in my arms for a moment and reassure her in the faith she already put in me. From this moment on I would hold the trust she was willing to show me, like a child in my arms. I owed her so much already.

I looked into Bella's eyes for any sign of uneasiness, but she just looked up to me with her red puffy eyes, the anger seemingly gone for the moment. I followed my instinct and closed the distance between us completely to wrap my arms around her fragile body and embrace her in what I hoped was a comforting hug.

As her arms went around my torso, the warmth of her body against mine made me realize that I needed this hug probably even more than her. Once she relaxed completely, her head fell against my chest so that some loose strands of her hair were tickling the skin on my neck. I loved every second of it.

I squeezed her a little tighter to let her know how much she meant to me already. All my problems were long forgotten and the only important thing was her forgiveness, her trust and that she would let me hug her for a little while longer.

A humming buzz was running through my veins, the strawberry-smell of her hair engulfing me in a a bubble of complete contentment.

Suddenly vibrations were causing the bubble to burst. My mobile was ringing in the depth of the pocket of my jeans. I was about to let it ring, not ready to end the moment we just shared, but Bella loosened her arms around me and reluctantly I let go of her as well. Not meeting my eyes she turned and walked over to her armchair to curl up in it. I just stood in the middle of the room for a few more seconds, following her with my eyes. Her mind was such a mystery to me. She wasn't crying anymore, but were we good again? Was whatever doubt the police planted in her resolved? Again the phone vibrated silently and I had no excuse to ignore it any longer. I fished it out of my pocket and glanced at the display. Esme. Oh holy shit. She probably was out of her mind with worry by now. Why didn't I tell her that I went out last night? Was there anything I could do right for once?

I flipped it open and heard her quiet sobs before I could even say anything. Why were all women in my life crying these days – or dead?

"Esme, I'm so sorry," I began, the apologies already feeling like second nature.

"Edward, sweetheart? Where are you?"

"I'm with ... a friend," I answered hesitantly. Was that what Bella was? A friend? I didn't know, but I couldn't tag this thing we had with another title right now.

"Are you okay? Are you with Jasper? The police were here. They're looking for you Edward. You should go to the station and tell them what you know."

"They were at our house?" I asked, ignoring her questions. I couldn't believe this. They let me leave a few hours ago and now they were harassing my mother. As if she hadn't enough problems already. No, let's just send the police over and scare her to death. Idiots!

"Yes, they asked for you and I thought you would be still asleep in your room. When did you leave? Did you sleep at all? They think you're on the run. Please call them and let them know where you are and that you didn't do it."

"No, I can't. They won't believe me. I'm not really sure what I'm going to do right now, but just don't worry, please. I'll call you later. Everything will be alright."

"Edward, don't hang up. What if the police comes back? What am I going to tell them? I don't want you running away. You are not running, right? You didn't do anything."

"No, of course not. Just don't worry. Things will work themselves out eventually. I'll call you later, just please stay calm and be safe."

"I don't know Edward, why can't you just come home? I don't want you to get arrested again."

"Believe me, I don't want that either. But I can't come home until I know what's going on. I will call you and let you know this evening."

"Okay, but I'm not happy with this Edward. You don't sound so good. Be careful, please. For me. I love you, son."

"I love you, too."

Until now I hadn't realised I was pacing through Bella's living room again. As I hung up, I stopped my marathon and sat down on the sofa with a sigh. Someone finally needed to have mercy on me. Please, no more crying women today!

I scrolled through a bunch of missed calls from my mother and an unknown number I assumed to be the police. This couldn't be a good sign.

I looked up at Bella, trying to get back to the moment we just had, but it was clearly gone or probably even imagined by my wishful thinking. Her eyes were still cast down and directed at the mug in her hand. I contemplated to apologise once more for saving her picture on my hard drive, but decided against it. No need to bring this up voluntarily. I was more sorry for the interruption of our embrace anyway, so I felt more comfortable to apologize for that.

"I'm sorry about the call. I left home in a hurry without telling anyone."

She didn't react, but stirred her coffee with the spoon absent-mindedly.

"Do you know how Claire's fiancé is doing? I mean it's possibly worst for him," she finally asked out of nowhere.

I was confused. Claire didn't have a fiancé. I would definitely know about that. In the office news like these were shared loud and fast. There was no way someone could not hear about those things.

"She didn't have a fiancé!" I answered a question Bella never asked.

"Yes, she did! Since a few days ago."

"No, she didn't. How would you know? She didn't even have a boyfriend." And really, how could Bella know? This was nerve-wrecking again. I was in-between admiring Bella and being confused about her. I asked her for help, I didn't ask her to be Miss Know-it-all all the time. Couldn't we just go back to before my mother called? I had felt so peaceful and calm there for a moment with her in my arms.

"How would you know? Listen, your obsession with Claire is not a secret anymore and that's probably why they think you did it in the first place. You should stop this fixation and accept that she was with another guy, you know." She mumbled something else I didn't get since I already had to put some effort in keeping up with the nonsense she was telling me.

She left me speechless. It was bad enough that James told the police about this weird thing with Claire, but why and when did he tell Bella that shit?

I looked her in the eyes and she stared right back at me with a conviction that allowed no protest. The worst pictures flooded my mind: a candlelight dinner in some fancy restaurant with James and Bella on opposite sides of the table. The flickering light of the candle enlightening Bella's face while they talked about me having obsessive feelings for Claire.

I shuddered, fisting my hand in the blanket I had shrugged off on the sofa earlier. I tried to say something to defend me, but no words came out. How could she even think I was obsessed with Claire when it was her stupid umbrella that had driven me crazy for the last couple of days?

Nothing made any sense in this mess.

And still, I had no idea why James was telling these things about me. There was something seriously wrong with everything and James in particular.

Chapter End Notes:

Who loves Stalkward? Please, raise you hand!

And many, many thanks to Bri, who is a wonderful beta and stopped us from getting Esme raped by police men. Yes, English is a difficult language after all.