Saturday Night, August 6th

I feel like my life is over.

I know that's a little melodramatic, but that's really how I feel.

Sue me.

After forcing Alice to go home as she stood on the sidewalk trying to comfort me, I make my way back to my apartment. When I pass the mailboxes in the lobby, I fight the urge to kick them. And lose. Now my toe fucking hurts almost as much as my heart.

It all makes sense to me now. The secrecy and deflecting with his glorious fucking cock. He didn't want me to know that there were all these other fucking women. And then I wonder if he was fucking them while he was fucking me.

He was so smooth. I have to give him that. He owned me from the moment that he smiled and talked about my nipples.

God, I'm so, so stupid!

I think about drinking some more, but I'm still pretty tipsy from the drinks at the bar. I stumble into my apartment and make my way to the bedroom. Stripping down to nothing, I crawl in bed, pull the covers over my head and cry myself to sleep.

I can think about this in the morning.

I'm dreaming about Edward right before I wake up. His velvet voice is soft and soothing in my ears. His hands are touching my cheek, stroking my hair. And it feels so good. His hands, his touch…they always feel so fucking good. In the fog of my still-sleeping mind, I remember that I'm supposed to be mad at him. But his voice is so perfect…so warm and tender. I find that I can't be mad at him when he sounds like that. When he feels like that.

I slowly open my eyes and through the blurred vision, I see him in the moonlight. Or maybe it's the street lamp outside my window. But he's here in my room, kneeling beside my bed.

"What…what…" I stammer. "How did you get in here?"

His eyes are dark and I fight the overwhelming urge I have to feel sorry for him.

"You left your door unlocked," he says gently. "I told you about that."

"Yeah, I'd hate for someone that would hurt me to come in," I say bitterly. "Why are you here?"

I notice that he's still touching me. I also notice that I'm not making any moves to stop him. I want him to explain. I want him to tell me that those other women were lying. I want him to tell me I'm the only one.

I want him.

Fuck me.

I still want him.

"I had to talk to you, Bella," he says. "I had to…I have to explain myself."

"What is there to explain?" I ask. "You get around. I get it. You're a supremely attractive man. Or supremely active man. Or both."

"Bella," he says, his voice shaking now. "Don't you get it? Don't you know?"

I sit up in the bed, cursing myself silently because the movement has made him stop touching me.

"I don't know anything," I tell him. "You never tell me anything."

Rising up on his knees, he takes my hands in his. I let him, because let's face it, I'm apparently as much a whore as the drunk woman in the bar.

"I wasn't sure where you wanted us to go," he says. "I didn't know what you wanted us to be. Well, until tonight. When I saw you there in the bar… God, you took my breath away, but before then..." he pauses, and I try to read his face to see what he is thinking, but can't. "I asked you earlier to stay in my home…in my bed…I wanted you to wait for me. But more than that…I knew then that I wanted you in my life. My whole life. So, when I saw you there tonight…I just knew."

"You knew what?" I asked.

"Bella, you're the one," he whispers. And even though they shouldn't, his words take my breath away. "For me, you're the one."

"But…but…but…" I try to speak and can't. Like the English language has escaped me completely.

"What?" he asks, coming closer to me than I should probably allow. "Tell me anything. Ask me anything."

"But what about…all those other women?" I hate asking him about this, but I have to. I need to know. "Were you…I mean…well…were you with them all? Or any of them while…you know, while you were with me?"

"Oh, Bella," he says, pulling me down and into his arms. "I can't lie about my past. I have one. I'm sure you do, too. But I haven't been with anyone for a long time. Those women are all in my past. Way in the past."

I nod my head against his chest, still feeling uncertain about everything.

"So, it's just been me?"

"Look at me," he says. My eyes lift to his and I see nothing but sincerity and truth. "Don't you know, my sweet girl? Seriously, how can you not know?" He takes my face in his hands and pulls me close to his. His soft, breath covers my skin. His lips part and he wets them with his tongue as I stare at them, completely struck by the vision before me. "From the moment I met you…with your spilled coffee and mail flying everywhere…there has been no one else. There could never have been anyone else."

"You never told me that," I whisper. "Not once."

"Everything was so new between us, but I wanted to tell you tonight," he says, and the sound of his voice so close buzzes and rings in my ears. "I'm telling you now. I don't want anyone else."

"Just me?"

"Just you."

Everything slows and all I can feel is the pounding in my chest, the beating of my heart that tells me, "Yes, yes, yes."

He waits, searching my eyes for something. And then I realize he's waiting for me.

My words.

My own declaration.

"It's just you, too, Edward," I tell him as his breath rushes out in release. "It's been you all along."

"I want to kiss you now."

"Then kiss me, Edward," I say. "Kiss me this time…and mean it."

"I always have."

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A/N

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See you shortly.