Many thanks to SarcasticBimbo, my lovely beta.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN—EDWARD
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When I was growing up, my mother grew red tulips in the front yard. Every March, their green leaves would spike up through the cold ground, and their flowers would paint the waking grass with their bold, crimson declarations of spring. Of all the flowers my mother grew, the tulips were Bella's favorite. Her mother had a black thumb, so Bella was forever begging Esme to let her pick a few of the blood-red blooms. Loving Bella as much as she did, Mom could never say no.
When she was very young, I always sneaked a few extras into her hand-picked bouquet. However, as we grew, and age differences became more apparent, I stopped. After I hit puberty, it didn't quite seem appropriate to give a young girl flowers. I told myself she was simply Emmett's little sister, and friends were all we'd ever be. At that point, I meant it, though I knew I'd die protecting that girl, just as Emmett would.
I'm not sure when those brotherly feelings went out the window, when platonic became something new. I only know I've always had love for Bella, and no matter where it stemmed from, it's not going anywhere. I'm in love with the woman she is now, and I'll do anything to get her back. These last few days without her have been torturous, to say the least. I miss her, so much. She won't answer any of my texts or voicemails, so I'm going to have to get creative.
Which is why I'm currently scouring the city for red tulips. An early spring flower, they're not readily available right now. I've hit about five florists so far, and everyone has tried not to laugh in my face while attempting a sympathetic apology. The universe takes pity on me at stop number seven—the shop has two dozen beautiful, blood-red tulips, which I snatch up in an instant, price be damned.
"Aren't they wonderful? They're left over from a funeral arrangement I put together today," the florist gushes, obviously proud of her work. The blooms are simply arranged and tied with a simple red ribbon the same color as the tulips. They're stunning, actually, but I can't get over the other part of this equation—they're fucking funeral flowers.
I'm going to give Bella funeral flowers.
Is this bad luck? What if she finds out?
I rein in the panic and try to talk myself down.
She'll never know if you don't tell her. She probably won't even care. Tulips are her favorite. You have to get the tulips.
I clear my throat and manage, "Uh-huh. They're great."
"Are these for a special lady? Did you know, red tulips are a declaration of love?" The florist grins wide and goes on wrapping the flowers as if she's not dropping bombshells of information left and right.
A declaration of love? That makes them even more perfect. Almost enough to cancel out the whole funeral flower thing.
"No, I had no idea. That's perfect, actually." I give her a small smile and hand over my credit card.
150 dollars later, she hands me the flowers, wrapped in a box, my receipt on the top. "Flowers have all kinds of meanings. You should look them up. They have a language all their own. It's a lost art, in my opinion."
"I'll have to do that," I agree as I back out the door. I smile all the way to the car.
I sit there for some time, staring at the blank card the florist included with the bouquet. I can't exactly fit everything I want to say on a 2x3 rectangular sheet of cardstock. Finally, I go with the simplest truth:
I will love you every single moment of forever.
With a smile, I start the car and head home. I have some research to do, and tomorrow morning, I'll play deliveryman.
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x
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"What has you so absorbed?"
I look up to find Kate watching me with an amused smile.
I clear my throat. "Oh, I'm…" Not sure what to tell her. That I'm looking up flower meanings isn't exactly something I want to share with my colleagues. No one knows what's going on in my personal life right now, and I'd like to keep it that way, though they know something is up, since I was supposed to be on vacation this week. Instead, I'm picking up extra shifts left and right. I need to stay busy, so I don't obsess about Bella 24/7. And let's not forget the very obvious black eye.
I haven't heard from Bella since I left her the tulips. Not that I expected her to give in so easily, but a guy can hope.
"You've got that look, Edward," Kate says, her face gone serious.
"What look?" I school my expression, trying to appear as apathetic as possible. Fake it till you make it, they say. I've never really had to fake it, so I have no idea how it's going.
"That look guys get when they're in trouble."
I guess the faking it isn't not going well. "I'm fine." I slip my phone into the pocket of my lab coat.
"You don't look fine. You look sad. Not to mention, that's a hell of a shiner." She points to the garish purple and green around my eye.
"I ran into a door," I say with a shrug, unable to keep my lips from twitching. Emmett's fist packs a bit more punch than a door, actually.
"Must've been a big door." She's openly smirking now, as she crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the lounge table, as if she's settling in for an interrogation. Tilting her head to the side, she asks, "How's your girlfriend?"
I grit my teeth. "She's fine." I hope she is. She won't talk to me, so I don't know either way.
"Wow, that bad?"
I raise a brow at her. "Just because you're shacked up with Garrett now, doesn't make you a relationship expert."
I'm only half kidding. Ever since I introduced her to Garrett, one of the RNs in the OB ward, they've been inseparable. I guess their "interests" are extremely "compatible." Her relationship with Garrett is much more involved than the clinical arrangement she proposed to me. I'm happy for them, but right now it only reminds me of what I don't have.
"I know what a happy person looks like—thanks to you, by the way—and you're not it. For a few weeks, you walked around here like you were high as a kite. Dopey smile, skip in your step, you name it."
"I didn't skip," I snap, frowning.
"But you were happy."
"Yes, dammit." Fuck. She broke me. I don't even know how she did it.
"So what happened? You're definitely not the same. No jokes in the OR, no waves in the hallway, just morose, sullen Edward Cullen with the black eye. Everyone is talking about it."
"I don't even want to know what they're saying," I mumble. Actually I do, but not until I can process the ridiculousness. Ideally, after Bella takes me back and I can function like a normal human again.
"So tell me what really happened," Kate prompts. "Because rumor has it you got caught screwing an MMA fighter's girlfriend."
I can't keep in my laugh. There are some similarities. Emmett could pass for an MMA fighter, and I was sleeping with his sister. Realizing I need an objective opinion, I spill it all: my ever-evolving relationship with Bella, my best friend's little sister; how we kept our relationship a secret; got caught by her brother the morning after his wedding; and, the kicker — I broke up with her the same day, because I thought she'd be better off without me.
"Wow, Edward. You are a colossal asshole." She glowers down at me and picks up an old copy of the Times someone left in the lounge and rolls it up like she's going to try and kill a fly. I make the mistake of blinking, and she actually whacks me upside the head.
"What the fuck!" I cover my head in case she tries it again.
"Exactly. What the fuck? Why would you do that to her?"
"Because I'm a colossal asshole?" I mimic, daring to lower my arms. "I made a mistake, Kate. I even went back to her place the next morning to tell her so, but she kicked me out." Reliving yesterday morning guts me, as if it's happening all over again.
"Smart girl," Kate observes, and I shoot her a dirty look. "So what are you going to do now?"
I sigh and hang my head for a moment, looking down at the linoleum tiles. I look up and meet her eyes with renewed resolve. "I'm going to be persistent. I won't stop until she takes me back." I left her the tulips this morning on the way to work, and now I wait.
A small smile pulls at Kate's lips and she nods. "Good boy. Now, tell me more. Maybe I can help."
And that's how I spent two hours in the doctor's lounge, Googling flowers. Fun times.
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x
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When I leave work early the next morning, I have a plan. I've placed all the orders through the same florist that helped me before, who was thrilled to help once I told her the whole story.
I know exactly what I want to say to Bella, and how to say it with flowers. It might not be the most manly thing I'll ever do, but I think she'll appreciate the gesture. I pray she will, because I don't know how else to get my message across, considering she won't speak to me.
I've given her space and refrained from calling or texting, though it's killing me. I'm desperate to hear her voice, if only on her outgoing message. However, I have to let her come to me when she's ready. I promised I'd be here waiting for her, as long as it takes. Forever. Now I need her to believe in me, even though I broke her trust.
The florist opens at ten, so I have a couple hours to kill. I'd love a few hours' sleep, but even though I'm exhausted, sleep won't come. I miss Bella too much.
In need of caffeine, I head to a local coffee shop next to the florist, order the biggest black coffee they sell and a huge slice of banana bread, and wait. I'm hopped up on sugar and caffeine by the time I collect the pretty little bouquet of blue flowers that represent eternal love and constancy, according to Senna—the florist—and Google.
"See you tomorrow morning," Senna chirps. "Good luck!"
I send her a quick wave as I rush out the door. I need to get to Bella's in time to sneak these onto her porch without being noticed.
Her monstrosity of a truck is parked in the driveway when I cruise past. Determined, I park a block over and quickly make my way on foot. This time, it was easier to compose a message for the card. I simply draw upon the truth.
Please, give me your heart. I've left mine with you.
If I look suspicious practically running while carrying a box, no one notices. I'd certainly make note of a creeper like myself, but I'm grateful for the neighborhood's lack of vigilance at the moment.
As I near her house, I stop in front of the next door neighbor's for a bit of surveillance. I can't see Jake in the backyard, which is good. I finally determine I could be barked at either way and move on to see if there's movement behind Bella's windows. Nothing. I sneak closer, using a tree as cover. Then I hide in her bushes. Really, this neighborhood is starting to worry me. I look like an escaped patient in my scrubs, sneaking through yards and hiding in the bushes.
As difficult as I imagined it would be to leave the gift on her porch without being noticed, it's incredibly simple in the end. Jake doesn't bark, Bella doesn't peek out the window, nothing. I drop the box at her front door and take off down the street, running like I stole something. And still no one notices.
When I win Bella back, she's moving in with me immediately.
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x
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Sunflowers represent adoration. Composing a message for today's flowers is simple: I adore you. Give me a chance to prove it.
It's a bit harder to sneak a bunch of sunflowers around without catching someone's notice. Carting around a box the size of a rifle case is bound to raise suspicion. A man I can only assume is Bella's landlord sits on the front porch, sipping from a mug. I cautiously approach, doing my best to appear unassuming. Met with a flat stare, I grin and tap the box.
"Flower delivery." I pray he believes me, and hope he won't question why I'm dressed in wrinkled scrubs, and look like a starved vampire. I've worked three twelve hour shifts in a row, and I still can't sleep much, knowing Bella might never forgive me.
"You're that boy who comes around to see Bella." It's not a question, and he doesn't look happy to see me. "Haven't seen you in a while."
I don't know how to explain, so I nod and say, "Yes, sir." I might as well get in my practice now, for Charlie's interrogation. I know it's coming, and I'd be a fool to expect it to be pretty.
He tilts his head toward today's offering. "What's in the box?"
I want to joke, 'Well, it's not Gwyneth Paltrow's head,' but I get the feeling my humor won't be appreciated.
"Flowers, sir. Sunflowers."
The old man crooks a finger. "Let me see."
Obediently, I cross over and lift the lid. He whistles in appreciation.
Looking me in the eye, he says, "You must've screwed up real big."
"Colossally, sir." I busy myself with closing the box. "But I'm trying to make it right."
"You didn't cheat on her, did you?"
Indignant, I counter, "Of course not! I'd never do that to her. I love Bella."
"Then why are you sending her 'I fucked up' flowers?" the man asks with a raised brow.
I stifle a chuckle at his curse and shake my head at my stupidity. "I made the mistake of thinking I knew better than she did. I made a decision I thought was for her own good, and it bit me in the ass."
"That never works out, son. You'll do well to learn that lesson quickly."
"Already learned, sir. Believe me. I came back to apologize the next day, and she kicked me out on my ass."
"She's a smart one, that girl." He nods, then takes a sip of his coffee. "Better get out of here before she sees you. I'll keep your secret, but if you screw up again, there'll be no more help from me."
"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your help."
I deposit the box in front of Bella's door and head down the walk, waving at the old man as I go. For the first time in what seems like forever, a genuine smile crosses my face. Maybe, just maybe, things are looking up.
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x
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I manage a few hours of sleep overnight, but I'm up way before the sun, thinking. I'm off schedule today, and it's one of the rare days I'm not on call. All this free time, and the one thing I want to do is spend it with Bella. My good mood of yesterday has evaporated.
If I hadn't been such a clueless idiot, we could be waking up together. Have a quiet breakfast. I could make her coffee, even though she teases me for making it so strong. She always jokes that I should just eat the coffee grounds and skip the brewing. I told her I considered it more than once during my residency.
Outside, the sky is black, and rain sheets down the window. It's a perfect day to stay in, hole up on the couch and binge watch a few shows. After a bowl of cereal and a couple cups of hockey puck coffee, I find myself on the couch, alone. Parks and Rec is one of Bella's favorites, so I queue it up and spend a few hours stretched out under a blanket, watching Ron Swanson's mustache and missing Bella like crazy.
The sky lightens to a gloomy gray, which matches my mood in spite of the comedy I just binged. The rain has petered out, leaving a misty drizzle in its wake. I drag my sorry, depressed ass to the bedroom and dress in slightly cleaner sweats and a random t-shirt. I haven't done laundry since before the wedding and my clean clothes supply is limited.
My fridge is empty, save for some questionable eggs, expired yogurt, a twelve-pack of Stella, and today's flowers. Senna gave me a helpful tip: refrigeration keeps flowers fresher. It works — the bouquet of white roses and violets looks freshly picked, even though I picked them up yesterday.
Armed with a grocery list full of junk food, an umbrella, and the flowers, I head out for the day. I don't know how much longer I can hold out. I miss her too much. If I can just lay eyes on her, it might tide me over until she speaks to me again. I won't even entertain the idea that it might not happen.
It will break me.
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x
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No one's around when I pull up in front of Bella's place. It's early, so I don't worry about hiding. I walk right up to the porch, hidden under my umbrella, and gently lay the bouquet in front of her door. Every part of me itches to ring the bell, to try the door and walk up those steps. I remember when I was welcome to do just that, to drop by and step into her waiting arms. Instead, I trudge back to the car and drive off to find the nearest twenty-four hour grocery store.
Arms loaded with enough lunch meat, canned soup, and everything from the chip and cookie aisle, I lug the groceries up to my apartment. As I unpack, I wish I had a clue how to cook something that doesn't come in a can. Food always tastes better when Bella makes it; whether it's a bowl of fruit or a plate full of homemade mac and cheese. She promised she'd teach me to cook, but we never got around to it. I remember looking forward to her lessons, if only so I could follow her around the kitchen and grab her ass. Everything is better with Bella, period.
I grab a sandwich, head for the couch, and waste a few more hours watching Netflix. I must doze, because a knock on my door jolts me awake. I brush stale crumbs off my chest, and run my fingers through my hair, trying to clean myself up a bit in case it's Bella at the door.
Maybe today's the day she decides to talk to me.
My heart races as I hurry to the door. I throw it open, a hopeful smile stamped on my face, which immediately falls when I find Emmett standing in the hallway, looking smug.
"If you came here to hit me again, I won't hold back," I warn. My neck tenses up and I clench my fists at my sides.
Emmett smirks. "Like you can take me. Never could, never will."
"Brains outwit brute strength any day of the week," I shoot back, almost relishing the familiar exchange. All throughout growing up, every disagreement led to this very same argument. For all Emmett's strength, we were almost evenly matched. My lean frame made me quick, while he was slower to react. His fists are like bricks, however. My black eye has started to heal, and I'm not looking for another one.
Emmett surprises me by saying, "Look, Edward. I didn't come here to fight. I came to apologize."
"What?" I never expected an apology from him. Like, ever.
"Well, I came to say I'm sorry for thinking you were disrespecting my sister. And…" He stops, frowning and looking generally constipated.
"And … what?
"And I'm sorry for punching you," he mumbles, as if it's all one word.
I smirk and cup a hand behind my ear. "What was that?"
Emmett rolls his eyes and pushes his way into the apartment. "Shut up, fucker," he growls as he stalks into my kitchen and starts rifling through my cabinets. He comes up with a package of Chips Ahoy, rips into it, and stuffs a few cookies into his mouth.
So … that's it? He thinks we're good and he can eat my precious junk food? No way.
I grab the cookies, eat one, and glare at him, trying to look intimidating as I can with a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie.
"What are you doing?" Crumbs fall out of his mouth. "I was eating those."
"You punched me, asshole." Cookie dust flies out of my mouth at the word 'asshole.' "You can't just come in here and eat my food."
"Come on, man. I said I was sorry. Besides, I thought you were pulling a fuck and duck on my sister! What the hell else was I supposed to do?"
"I don't know, maybe ask us what was going on?" I throw up my arms in frustration, sending cookies all over the kitchen. "Shit."
Emmett actually helps me pick them all up, eating a few in the process.
When I give him a disgusted look, he shrugs and says, "Five second rule."
Joke's on him. I can't remember the last time I cleaned the floor.
After cleanup duty, we end up on opposite ends of the couch, casting wary glances as we sip a couple beers.
"I oughtta punch you again," he muses. "You broke the Bro Code."
"Emmett, I'm sorry I went behind your back. It doesn't change the fact that this thing between Bella and me was going to happen no matter what. After I bailed her out of jail, we just kept meeting—"
His eyes about pop out of his head. "Wait. What the fuck did you say? My sister was in jail and she didn't tell me?"
Shit. If Bella finds out I let that one slip, she'll never take me back. "She didn't want you or Charlie to know, so she called me."
"Why the hell was she in jail?" He raked a hand through his hair, looking truly distressed. "It's dangerous in there," he mumbles to himself, and I'm reminded of Bella's attitude that day.
It's one of the things I love about her—her sense of humor, how she shook off her jail time like it was no big deal, but only after she milked it for all it was worth. She thoroughly sold it, so I'd come and get her.
"Snap out of it, Edward. Why the hell was she in jail? Is she on drugs? No, she's not on drugs. She didn't fucking steal something, did she? Oh, fuck. Dad's gonna shit a fucking cinder block."
I stifle a chuckle the image. "It's nothing that bad."
"Not bad? My little sister was in jail! And why are you smiling, asshole?"
I bite the corner of my lip to keep from smiling. "She did steal something."
He drops his head into his hands. "Oh, shitballs."
I start wondering how many more curse words will come out of his mouth in this conversation.
"What did she steal? When's her next court date?" he asks, resigned.
"She stole Jake."
His head pops up. "What? You can't steal your own dog."
"She got caught springing him from the pound."
His laughter practically shakes the couch as he leans back, slapping his knee. Some beer sloshes out of the bottle. Normally I'd be on him to clean it up, but I'm not going to stir the pot when we're on shaky ground.
Once he catches his breath, Emmett says, "Thank fucking God. I thought I was gonna have to pull some strings for a second there."
"Nah, she had to pay a bigger fine, but she's no felon."
We're grinning at each other, and it's almost like it was before.
Then he kills my friends again buzz. "What's up with all the flowers in Bella's apartment? Her place looks like a damn funeral parlor." He pretends like they're questions, but I can tell by the look on his face that he knows. This is Interrogation Lite.
Damn it. "I'm trying to get her back."
He doesn't look as pissed off as I thought he would, and I have no idea why.
"Why do you need to get her back in the first place?"
I look down. "I told her we shouldn't be together, because it was tearing up your family."
"You are such a dumb shit."
I sigh and meet his accusing eyes. "Believe me, I know. I went back the next morning to apologize, begged her to take me back, but she kicked me out."
"Bella's a smart cookie. But for some reason, she loves your dumb ass."
"And I love hers—um, her." Great. The last thing I need is Emmett thinking I'm thinking about Bella's ass. I am, but he doesn't need to know it.
"Swear to me this isn't you ducking my little sister," he orders.
I gesture to my unkempt self. "Do I look like a happy man? I'm emotionally eating, for Christ's sake." I point to my kitchen. "There's a cabinet full of cookies, Easy Mac, and ramen. There's ice cream in my freezer. I haven't showered since I came off shift, and I'm single-handedly keeping a florist in business."
Emmett looks thoughtful. "You do make a good case for a broken heart. But you also could be a pothead college student, aside from the flowers. Nice love notes, by the way," he snickers. "Who knew you're such a sap, man? I'll have to save a couple of those for Rose. Did you Google that shit?"
Though this behavior is typical of Emmett, I've had enough of his teasing for the day. Fed up, I stand up so I can tower over him for once.
"Fuck off, Emmett. Those notes weren't meant for you, and I know she wouldn't just let you read them."
He jumps up, making me stagger back. At 6'3", I'm only an inch shorter than him, but he's got thirty pounds of muscle on me.
"What if she did let me read them? What if we laughed about it? What if she's over you?" His voice gets louder with every word, and each one is an ember fueling the frustration burning in my veins.
Mood all over the place, I shove at him, sending beer flying everywhere. "Get out of here. I don't have to put up with this shit in my own house."
"Edward—"
"I can't deal with your jokes right now." I grab the overturned beers and toss them into the trash, then search for some paper towels. "I'm fucked up enough. I'm so in love with your sister I can't think straight, and she won't even talk to me. So I don't need you screwing around with my feelings."
Emmett looks chagrined, but then stifles a snicker. "Please, never speak of your feelings again."
He heads for the door, but stops with a hand on the doorframe. "Just so you know, you're not the only one with 'feelings.' And it's not me." With that, he's gone, and I'm left soaking up spilled beer.
The tightness in my chest loosens a bit. All is not lost, at least that's what I tell myself. It keeps me going.
Later, as I get my things prepared for work tomorrow, I charge my phone and find a message from Bella.
Thank you for the flowers.
I go to bed with a smile on my face.
And I finally sleep.
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x
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I frown into my refrigerator. Two dozen red roses take up a lot of space.
After exercising my spatial relations skills, I carefully shut the door, heaving a sigh of relief. In the end, I had to sacrifice the milk, but the look on Bella's face will be worth any amount of dairy products lost—unless she kicks my ass to the curb again. I'm hoping she won't, given her text last night. It's only five words, but that's five more words than she's said to me all week.
Happy with the safety of the arrangement, I head off to work, where I don't have to work so hard to seem normal. I spend most of my time in the OB ward, where I chat with patients while I literally stab them in the back, and they thank me for it afterwards. One husband passes out, and I wonder why some men are such babies when their wives are the ones having them. Then again, I've never experienced it myself, so who knows? I imagine it's quite different when your wife is the one bringing your kid into the world.
I picture Bella, pregnant with our baby and in pain. The thought twists inside my chest and I get a little short of breath. Even though it would be completely unethical, I imagine administering an epidural for her, and my stomach rolls. Okay, so maybe I do get it. When the time comes, when she's my wife and we're having our baby, I'll stick to the dad role, helping her hunch over the pillow.
I'm getting way ahead of myself with this train of thought, but I can't deny it brings a little smile to my face. I want that. All of it.
When my shift ends early the next morning, I head straight home to shower off the hospital, but instead of going to bed, I get ready to leave again. I brush my teeth, dress in jeans and an old t-shirt, and go straight to the fridge, where the roses are waiting and perfect. I make it to the elevator before I realize I have no shoes on. With a curse, I run back to grab them. I catch sight of my hair in the mirror on the way out, but decide it's not worth the extra time it'd take to tame it.
I lock the door behind me and remember I left the roses inside. I'm such a fucking mess. A ball of forgetful, idiotic nerves—because today, there won't be a note. Today, I'm not just dropping off flowers.
Today, I'm going to knock on her door.
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I can't believe most of you thought Bella sent Emmett to beat up Edward. Seriously.