Twilight belongs to Stephenie; I own this plot.
I promised HEA, right? Well, just remember that "HEA" (happiness) comes in different forms, okay?
It's March already, and it's unbelievable how much time has passed since I've been here in New York.
East Coast winters are brutal, but this one was exceptionally cold because I left the one thing that always kept me warm and protected out on the other coast. Charlotte and I spent Christmas together at her apartment, but spent Christmas Eve at 'Mom's'; her ex's mother, who is like a mother to Charlotte since her own parents disowned her for choosing to continue being with him, even after they warned her he wasn't good for her. Christmas time in New York is beautiful for someone who has never spent time here during it before; Charlotte and I went into the city, and for a while, I was able to forget why I had come here in the first place. The lights, the snow, everything was amazing—even the dirty sludge on the ground.
Charlotte brought in the mail a little while ago, and said that something had come for me. I'm holding that something in my hands right now; it's a letter, from Edward.
Bella,
It's March 8 as I write this.
You said you didn't know how long you would be gone for, and I didn't push you. But, December turned into January, and finally, you told me you needed more time last month; I started to think about that, really think. I think that separation is good; us being on different coasts and all is good for both of us.
I'm not sure where it all went (again) exactly, but I'm really fucking hoping it wasn't because we had sex. I hope you understand why I always backed away from it when you would suggest it – because I didn't want to push either of us and wind up with this. I made a mistake by believing Angela, I know that; and I made a bigger mistake by the way I reacted to hearing it. If I could take it back, I would.
Take as much more time as you need, but if you meet someone in the meantime, and he makes you happy (makes you forget all the shit I put you through, even for a little while), brings a smile to your face, as much as it hurts to me say, please go for it. Don't hold back, okay? You deserve happiness; not something that like I am. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to offer something 'normal' – to anyone. You've stuck by me through a lot of shit, and why I don't have a fucking clue (I guess you've always loved me enough though), but I want and need you to be happy. Like I said, if some guy comes along that you really like and want, but are too afraid because of how I'll react, please don't be. I want you happy, so be happy.
When you wrote before, saying you weren't sure about returning just yet, I knew that I needed to do something – even if that means finally letting you go, allowing you to be free.
Don't ever doubt if I love you or not, because I do.
Like they say though: If you love something, set it free; if it comes back, then it was meant to be.
Don't rush back because you feel guilty or something though. If you want to stay longer, then stay.
I love you, and wish nothing but the best for you.
-Edward
"So, what'd it say?" Charlotte says later.
It's 8pm and we're eating a late dinner; Chinese. Since neither of us felt like cooking, she offered to order take-out and asked what I wanted.
I sigh and swallow a bite of three star Mongolian beef.
"Basically the gist of it was, he wants me to be happy, and if I happen to come across someone while I here who lets me forget what I've gone through and puts a smile on my face, to go for it," I say, grabbing for the can of Mountain Dew.
Char's eyebrows furrow as she picks up a carton that's filled with shrimp fried rice.
"I wonder why the change of heart all of a sudden," she says, and stuffs a chopstick-full of rice into her mouth.
I shrug and take a long gulp of cold Mountain Dew.
"I don't know, but I'm also not sure I'm 100% liking what he said, either."
She frowns.
"What do you mean?"
"The fact that he's suddenly so accepting of the possibility of me finding someone else, and actually giving me the go ahead—not that I'd need it, but yeah." I frown at nothing.
She picks up her coke and takes a slug, swallows, and then looks at me.
"I'm not sure, B; all I can tell you is that it reminds me of when douche-fuck and I were having problems—before he cheated. He told me that I deserved more, and that he was tired of hurting me, that he'd lemme go if it was what I wanted," she tells me.
I nod and lean back against the couch, thinking.
"You can stay as long as you want," she says, breaking through my thoughts.
I look over at her, thinking she's kidding, but she's not.
"I'm serious. I like having you here, you're fun. So, stay as long as you need/want, okay?"
I nod and then help her clean-up.
March turned into April, April turned into May, and May is quickly turning into June. I'm packing to go back home for a few days to get some things done, but I'm returning to New York. I told Edward back in May that I wanted to stay in New York, and he told me he was happy for me; I'm not sure how true that was, but I accepted it.
I didn't expect to be away this long, but I found that I really enjoyed Long Island and the different scenery; plus Charlotte and I get along well. It just worked out for the better.
Sea-Tac – June 21
Emma picks me up and we talk all the way to the house—my house. When we get there, she helps me get my suitcase into the living room, and then says she'll be back later. I nod and then begin settling in, looking around; I haven't been here in forever—this is actually my house, the one Edward and I shared when we agreed to living together. I drag the suitcase into the bedroom and glance around, for what I'm sure; it just feels different.
When I'm at Emma's later, I ask her if Edward still stays at the house we shared.
"I think so," she says, messing with something on the counter.
I watch as she makes dinner, and then we eat together, talking about what we've both been up to since I left. I tell her about New York, about Charlotte and how I've been. She tells me that Emmett brought up talk about marriage.
"Whoa," I say. "Are you ready for that?"
She shrugs.
"It would be nice, but I'm just not sure."
"About him?" I ask, referring to Emmett.
She shakes her head.
"Nah, I love Emmett; no, I was talking about my brother," she admits.
I nod. "Edward's a big boy Em."
She shrugs.
"How's he doing?" I ask before I can stop myself.
Her face turns uneasy, and so does my stomach when I see her expression.
"What?" I say warily.
"Um, you should really talk to him about how he's doing," she says.
"Why?"
"It's not my place to say," she says, frowning.
I narrow my eyes but don't press her on it.
June 26
"H-hey, sorry I missed your call, I was . . . busy. Um, you mentioned meeting up and I'd really love to talk to you while you're here. If you want, we can meet at that Starbucks you like? So, just call me back to lemme know . . . bye."
I send him a text, letting him know that I'm here at Starbucks. I look around and finally spot him; he's wearing that damn hoodie.
I go over and tap him on the shoulder, and immediately mind myself enjoying the feel of the hoodie's fabric. He looks up and a smile spreads across his lips; he stands up and gives me a one-arm hug. I return it and then sit down across from him.
"It's nice to see you again," he starts.
I nod.
"Yeah, you too," I say gently.
Silence occurs until he breaks it.
"I don't want this to be . . . awkward," he says.
I smirk. "Well, it's just us."
He rolls his eyes.
"You might not think that when you hear the real reason why I wanted to meet," he mutters into his coffee.
I frown and ask what he means.
He shakes his head.
"You go first; tell me about you've been up to—how New York treating you?" He grins, but it looks uneasy.
So, I tell him; I tell him about living with Charlotte and how that's been (he knows she's like the sister I've never had), and I describe the city at Christmas time. He listens to every word, absorbing them.
By the time I'm finished, I realized I've finished the coffee that he purchased for me.
"So," I say, folding my arms on the round table. "What 'bout you?"
He sighs and fidgets with the wrapper from his straw.
"I've uh, been OK; up 'til last month, anyway." He grimaces.
I frown, worried that something happened to him.
"Did um, did another episode happen?" I ask softly.
He shakes his head.
"No, I wish though."
I hate it when he's cryptic.
"Tell me," I plead softly. "The truth."
He nods. "Yeah . . . you deserve the truth—even if it sends you running from me, my life."
I narrow my eyes, wondering what on earth he's done.
"Edward," I say, warning in my tone.
"I . . . I slept with this girl—woman—last month . . ."
I nod. I can't say much, because we aren't technically together.
"She's pregnant," he mumbles. "I-I found out last week."
I'm stunned into silence.
He got a girl pregnant.
"I'm sorry," he says when I don't answer him.
I shake my head slowly.
"I-it's . . . never mind. Why are you telling me this?" I ask.
He sighs.
"'Cause you deserve to know," he tells me.
"Are you sure it's yours?" I blurt out, then cover my mouth, wincing.
He nods, though.
"Yeah, it's definitely mine."
June 27
I get on the plane at Sea-Tac to head back to New York.
I won't deny that it hurts hearing about him getting another girl pregnant, but it is what it is.
Six months later – December (Long Island, NY)
"Hey B; you've got a package here," Charlotte says.
It's 4pm and I'm busy packing my things to take to my own apartment from hers. I sit on the couch where the large box is. I slice it open with scissors and then set them down, opening the box. Needless to say, I'm more than shocked when I pull out Edward's black hoodie from the package, along with a letter.
"What is it?" Charlotte asks, sitting next to me.
"His hoodie," I say quietly.
Later that night
I sit on the couch with Charlotte as she does stuff on her Macbook, and I'm reading the letter that came along with the box that Edward sent.
Bella, hi. . .
It's been six months since I've seen you, and I'm sure (or at least I hope) you're moving on, but I wanted to send this to you. I wanted you to have the hoodie that you always loved and used to wear all the time; I'm beginning to outgrow it, but I figured you never would.
I watched your face that day in Starbucks when I told you about getting a girl pregnant; what you didn't know was that she – we – kept it, the baby. She's seven months along now, and healthy. I don't know if it's a boy or girl yet, but yeah, it's good. I'm sure you don't want to hear this, but she's a really great girl who knows what I'm going through (she's been through it herself); she knows a little about you, and knows that we met up in June. She wanted me to give you closure as well, and practically forced a pen and piece of paper into my hands.
I want you to move on as best you can; please, for the love of God, don't do anything stupid because of what I did. I wish nothing but the best for you, I honestly do. I wanted to spend forever with you, but I'm learning that 'forever' is only a moment. (What's the saying you always said? 'Forever is a moment in time.')
I'll always care about you, and love you. We spent our teen years together, and you'll always be special to me. You're an amazing person and an amazing friend, B; please believe that.
I'm sorry if I cut off any chances of you returning, but it's most likely for the best.
I hope you find someone who loves you like I do, but in the right ways, and doesn't give you hell all the time. Someone who makes you laugh and smile, etc.
I'll love you always,
-Edward
I grip the letter and feel tears falling down my cheeks. It's hard to know that someone is moving on from you, but it needs to be done.
I feel Charlotte behind me, pulling me into a hug.
I cry and she stays up with me almost all night.