Prompt: Relinquish

Thanks for being patient! Also, I know nothing about cars, but Kman (my pal, sncmom's son) has opinions and I hope he gets his dream one day.

It's close to 2am and we're unbeta'd, as usual, so prepare for many a typo.

This is EPOV and it picks up on Friday afternoon.

I was 15 when I borrowed my dad's '67 Mustang Shelby. Black on black with dark gray stripes, mint condition—the epitome of the American muscle car. She was a dream. People turned their heads when you drove down the street in the Shelby.

Sunday mornings were reserved for detailing her inside and out, though she never really needed it. But I still liked to help. My dad was committed to and infatuated with her. He treated her like she was a living and breathing thing. I just thought the car was fly.

I was 15. I said fly, a lot.

"Can I drive it?" I asked.

"Not yet. You don't have your license," Dad said.

"So what? You can teach me. Let's go to an empty parking lot," I said, trying so hard to sound like it was no big deal. Damn, I wanted to wrap my hands around that wheel.

My dad dropped his sheepskin mitt in the bucket and eyed me from over the Shelby's hood. "All right. Soon as we're finished here, we'll go." Just like that.

I was so gentle with her, didn't go above 20mph but that was mostly because I wanted to prove to my dad I could handle her and maybe if I showed him I was responsible, he'd let me take her out own my own. My dad and I hit that parking lot three or four more times, then the side streets, and then a major road.

I knew what I was doing.

That summer, Alec, Paul, and I decided to take the Shelby out for a drive while my mom and dad were at work. It took maybe an hour of convincing before I gave in. So the three of us drove by Dairy Queen, the pool, Jessica Stanley's house, anywhere we'd be seen and surely talked about until school started again in the fall.

It worked, and as an added bonus I made out with Jessica Stanley and got to squeeze her boob.

My dad and I took the Shelby to get my license when I turned 16. He even trusted me enough to drive it without him a few times. My dad never knew I took the car, and I never told him. An archetypal act of a teenager for sure, but the point is he trusted me and I betrayed him. Twenty years later, I still feel like shit about it.

All of last week I tried to stay away from her, get on with the routine at work, at home, but in the end, I couldn't. Holding onto Bella's hand for those brief seconds before she slapped me was a hundred times more amazing than that afternoon in the Mustang. I didn't think, I just…did. But Bella's not a car and Leah is not my dad and I'm not 15 anymore. The feeling of deceit, however, is exactly the same.

On the way to Bella's house from the auto shop she really pissed me off. Thinking I felt sorry for her, that she needed to be saved. Bullshit. She kept pushing and pushing and she was sitting there, so close, her face red with anger, her hair messy from the wind, and it was all I could do not to reach across and kiss her. So I got out of my truck and then I told her and it was with what little restraint I had left that I didn't tell her that I am in love with her.

But I didn't have to because she said she loves me too.

I've been driving around for a while. I texted Leah and told her I was working late, and then I didn't answer when she called. That was about three hours ago and she's since called as many times. I can't face her or talk to her until I figure this out.

My cell buzzes again. Emmett.

"Yeah."

"Dude, what's going on? Leah just called me. You two okay?"

"What'd she say?"

"You sound like shit. Where are you?"

I'm in Fairfax. "I don't know, just driving."

"Meet me at Dogfish in twenty minutes."

"Not tonight, Em."

"Come on, man. What gives? Leah's all upset you're not calling her back and I don't want to sit on the phone with your wife being dragged into the middle of whatever the hell is going on with the two of you. Either call her back or meet me at Dogfish. But dude, call her back so she doesn't call me again."

Emmett lets out a low whistle after I tell him everything. Because it's Friday, the bar is crowded and loud. It's the last place I want to be right now, but Emmett is a good friend and he'll be straight with me.

"You never had sex with her," he says.

"No!"

"Nothing. Not even a kiss."

"No, Emmett."

"What about Leah? You love her, right?"

"Of course I do. I married her, didn't I?"

"Hey, Lauren was married to me, but that didn't stop her from sleeping with that guy," he says then finishes his beer. He holds up two fingers to the bartender. A tall blond walks past us, smiles at Emmett. He winks back, watching her until she disappears. The divorce was hard on him—he loved Lauren like crazy, even took her back after she cheated the first time. But she did it again, and it crushed him.

"I'm not going to cheat on Leah," I say.

"But you're in love with this other girl…"

"Yeah."

"What are you going to do, E? Can't have 'em both."

"I don't know."

"Well," he says, spinning around on the barstool. He leans his elbows back against the bar and surveys the women who are clearly single. "The way I see it, someone is going to get hurt. Two if I count you. No way to get around it." He spins back around. "Look, you've got to make a choice. You can't lead Leah on if you want someone else. She's a nice girl, and I like her. I really do, but if she's not the right girl you gotta be honest about it. But how do you know this other girl is worth breaking up your marriage over? Is she? She could turn out to be a total psycho." He's joking, but I'm not much in the mood to laugh.

"She's not."

"Take some time to figure it out," he says. "And if things don't work out with Leah because you chose…what's her name?"

"Bella."

"Okay. If it's Bella you want, let me know if you need a place to crash because you know Leah won't waste any time kicking your ass to the curb."

That same blond from earlier walks back from the other side of the bar. Emmett stops her, gives her his number then whispers something in her ear.

"Jesus, Em."

"A man is not an island, my friend."

"Edward, wake up." Leah pushes my arm. "Come on, babe. It's almost noon."

I got in around one this morning and instead of waking up Leah, I slept on the couch.

Jack nudges my face with his nose. "Shit. Sorry. Did you take them out already?"

"No, I'm letting them suffer. Yes, I walked them, silly. And did a load of laundry, and washed the dishes. I swear you could sleep through an earthquake."

She's especially cheerful this morning. Not that she's normally unhappy, but something's going on.

I rub my eyes and sit up. "I'm going to hop in the shower."

"Okay, well, hurry up because I want to run to Target before it gets too crowded."

"For what?"

"We're going through the garage today, remember? Organizing and tossing all the stuff we've hung on to since childhood? God, why don't you ever remember anything? Anyway, we need some plastic tubs."

"Okay."

I hate this store. Especially on Saturdays. Or maybe I'm just in a really bad mood which is probably why I didn't bother to put on a shirt devoid of wrinkles.

I watch my wife throw stuff into our cart that she suddenly needs. I don't care, but she does it with such fervor; I don't understand the excitement over moisturizer.

"I thought we were getting plastic tubs."

"We are, grump, but I need some other things, too." She kisses my cheek. I smile and she walks off to another aisle while I trail behind.

"Why are you in such a good mood?" I ask.

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know, you seem…perky."

"Perky?" She laughs, looking at me over her shoulder. Leah turns around and takes a deep breath. "This is not where I wanted to tell you," she says. Oh no. "And if you'd have called me back instead of texting to tell me you went out with Emmett, I would have told you then, but…" Shit, shit, shit. Don't say you're pregnant. We haven't had sex in almost two weeks. Shit. "The bank is opening a new branch and they want me to be part of the start-up team!" She practically squeals, earning a few curious glances from passersby.

Oh, thank god. "That's fantastic, Leah."

"I know! Isn't it great!"

"Yeah, congratulations. Where?"

"That's the best part. New York. Edward, we can finally get out of this place."

"What's wrong with here?" I don't want to move. I like it here. It's where I grew up. Everything I know is here. I think about Bella.

"Nothing if you're into suburbia. I thought you'd be happy. I mean, how long do you want to stay where you are? Don't you want to move up in your career and get into hotel management like you intended forever ago?"

"I like where I am, Leah"

She sighs and continues walking. "We can talk more about it at home." She sounds defeated, and I know I should be more supportive and not think about Bella.

Conceding, I say, "You're right, I'm sorry. We'll talk at home."

We finally get to the storage section of the store, deliberate on container colors until compromising on dark green. Compromising like married couples should do.

New York could change everything. It would change everything. For the better? I don't know, maybe.

I watch Leah through my periphery as we walk toward the back of the store to pick up dog food. She's thinking, smiling a little, and surely dreaming about what it would be like to live in the city. I'm proud of her. She's worked really hard and she deserves this.

I don't know. Maybe it's a sign.

"Oh! I'll be right back. Stay here and…watch TV. I forgot to get a shower liner for the guest bathroom."

"I'll come."

"No, it's fine. Gimme two seconds."

"All right." I lean my forearms against the handle of the cart and stare at the flat screens.

They used to show actual shows on the models and now it's all commercials that repeat over and over and over. How will anyone get suckered into buying one if they're not zombified by the size of the TV? Having to watch Target commercials while you're in Target is stupid. They need a new sales technique. Maybe I can work for a Target in New York.

Exciting.

I don't even know why I'm thinking about this. The thought of moving is…

Bella.

I look toward the ceiling and to whatever might be beyond the fluorescents and tiles, I say, "Seriously?"

What is she doing here? My heart claws its way to my throat and settles there. I stand straight, my feet cemented to the floor, and I quickly look toward the direction to where Leah went, too afraid she's going to come back and see Bella. She'll want to say hello and that would be cruel, for both of them.

But there's not sign of Leah, so I watch Bella as she waits for a cashier, and my palms begin to sweat. It's not from nerves, either. She looks completely different to me now. She is different because she loves me. Fuck, I'm so fucked.

She's looking around the counter, but someone finally arrives to help her. I watch her talk to the kid, pay for whatever she's buying—probably something for Garrett—and then she sees me. She's as surprised as I am, and I can't look away or even acknowledge her like a sane person.

"Okay, let's go," says Leah, and I'm snapped right back into the present.

That's what happens. Bella's like a dream and Leah's like reality.

Two weeks. That's when they want Leah to start at the new branch. It's Monday and she accepted the job this morning. We talked the entire weekend. It wasn't entirely pleasant, but we made progress and came to an agreement.

I'm going to stay here, for now, because I'm not ready to relinquish anything.