Here it is, dear readers. Enjoy. Next chapter will be completely Edward POV, and I'll be posting a teaser on my Twilighted forum thread in the next 24 hours, so come see me over there!
Thank you, thank you to my JV Beta jajo! Thank you to my sensational betas twanza and sandandsirens, who make my words sing. Thanks to RoseArcadia for the banner and thread, and for pimping me when I'm too nervous to do it myself. Also, many thanks to the readers who post on my forum. You make me smile, my friends.
Bella
It sounds like bullshit, but I think I really am ready to see Edward. I know it's going to be painful, but it's reality, and there isn't a damn thing I can do about that.
I'm flying to the lake from L.A. with Jasper, Rose and Alice on Christmas Eve day. Carlisle is already there, and Charlie will arrive at about the same time as us.
The night before we leave, I call Charlie to confirm our plans. He tells me that the Cullen clan is already at their cabin. I hope he doesn't notice how strange my voice sounds when I respond, but it's hard to talk around the lump in my throat. I let the anxiety go as quickly as I can, knowing that my emotions are going to be running wild during this trip, no matter how prepared I feel.
Rose rents a car when we land at the airport and start the long drive out to the middle of nowhere. I know they're watching me, so I laugh and joke along with them to reassure them that I'm okay. I feel good. Nervous, but good.
Charlie and I share my cabin for the holiday, like we have for years. Carlisle is staying with Esme, and the other couples shack up together in their respective cabins.
Charlie and I walk to Rose's for dinner where she's making egg nog and checking to make sure the decorations are sufficient, while Emmett starts a fire. Esme and Carlisle are curled up chatting with Jasper and Alice, and they look so perfect together that I have to smile. I go and greet them with hugs, and then turn to hang up my coat, but run smack into Edward, who catches me by my arms before I fall the fuck over.
I silently thank Alice for the torturous beauty treatments, because we're only about a foot apart, and I can see every detail of his face, and assume he can see mine just as well. I notice that he looks tired and the skin under his eyes is purplish, like he hasn't been sleeping. His face is slightly drawn, too, and it looks like he's lost weight. My hands clench inadvertently, and I notice that I'm holding onto his arms. I release them, wishing I could run my hands up to his shoulders, feeling the dips and peaks of his muscles to see if they're the same.
I take a deliberate step back and force my lips into a smile.
"Hi," I smile and wait for a response. He just stands there staring at me, so I turn slightly to put my coat on a hook, hoping he'll say something before this gets really awkward. I feel like everyone is watching our exchange. I look back at him, stiff smile still in place.
"Bella," he says finally, seeming to regain composure. My cheeks flame against my will. "Nice to see you again." His voice is honey and sex, but his tone is cold and formal.
I nod, summoning every ounce of strength I have to look confident and slightly aloof. "You too, Edward."
He breaks out his crooked grin and I have to walk away, because I'm getting weak-kneed. I'm pissed at myself for it, but I'm not surprised. I get a drink and down it in record time. Rose is watching me carefully and pours me another.
She whispers, "Get a head start, but don't go totally balls out. You'll regret it."
She's right. Getting drunk won't make this any easier. Edward is joking with Emmett by the fire, and I think this is how it's going to be; he and I on opposite sides of the room, pretending we never happened.
During dinner, Charlie and Carlisle tell stories about Jasper, Rose and I and our mothers, and Esme tells stories about Emmett and Edward as kids. I'm not sitting anywhere near Edward, so our eyes only meet a few times. I'm acutely aware of his presence in the room, though.
I don't drink too much, and I don't get sentimental despite the reminiscent tone of the night, and the fact that I'm seeing Edward for the first time in months. We all head back to our respective cabins without incident. I feel relief coming off of Jasper, Alice, Rose and Emmett when we leave, and I sink into my bed and write in my journal. When I'm done I take a sleeping pill prescribed by my shrink, because the thought of lying awake letting my mind run in circles terrifies me. I fall asleep quickly.
In the morning we meet to open presents and eat brunch. Rose made all of our favorite breakfast foods, mimosas and coffee. I grab a mimosa and sit down at the empty table, seeking out the crossword in the paper.
Edward walks in, shrugging out of his coat and accepting a mug of coffee from Rose, who eyes him warily as he walks towards me. He sits at the table across from me, crooked smirk in place. He doesn't look any more rested than he did last night.
"Morning," he says.
"Morning," I reply, glancing up at him quickly before looking back at the paper.
"So, how have you been?" he asks casually, as if we are distant acquaintances. As if there wasn't a time when we were wrapped around each other completely.
I'm suddenly very irritated, but I keep my eyes on the crossword, trying to make sense of the words on the page, and trying not to dwell on my swinging emotions.
"Great. I've been just great." I attempt to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. It doesn't work. "Thanks for asking."
I look up, and he looks guilty, and a little amused. I contemplate tossing my mimosa at him to wipe the half-smile off of his face, but decide against it, and look back at the paper.
"Good to hear. I've been meaning to call you," he says, his voice still nonchalant.
I sit absolutely still as his last statement echoes through my head. The pencil falls from my fingers and I slowly raise my head again, staring straight into the face that simultaneously excites me and sends my heart into the pit of my stomach.
I become conscious of the look on my face from watching his reaction. He sits back a little, his eyes darting to the kitchen and the living room, likely planning an escape route.
Fucker should be.
Just like that I'm angry all over again.
No, not angry, vengeful. Hateful. Spiteful. I feel like talking some shit.
I have no recollection of the helpful techniques I learned in therapy to calm myself down. Not one.
"You've been meaning to call me." My voice is even and soft, perhaps too soft. His expression is starting to resemble a hunted animal sensing danger.
How perceptive.
"Yeah, I … " he trails off. He still has the half-smile, but it's thinly veiling his discomfort.
I think I feel my lip curling up into a sneer, and I doubt I can stop it, though I don't really try.
"Right, right. So … you were thinking you could call me and we could talk about what, exactly?" I lean forward and prop my chin on my hand, looking at him quizzically. "Weather? Football? Or maybe we could rehash the details of the day I found out that underneath whomever you were pretending to be last summer, you truly are a raging douchebag?" I stop then, realizing how loud my voice is in the quiet room. He looks shocked, but still amused, and opens his mouth to say something.
But, I'm not done.
"How's Tanya, Edward?" His face sets then, the smile fading. He's pissed. It fuels me further.
"Did I hit a nerve? Ouch. Is it difficult for you to remember the day you humiliated me in front of my friends and family? I understand just how you feel."
His face mirrors mine from a minute ago.
"You know what? How about I make this easy. Stay away from me. Ignore me. Pretend I don't exist. Pretend that month never happened. I can't imagine that you'll struggle with that."
I'm leaning toward him, my body tensed and senses heightened. I pause, and we stare hard at each other. Time slows and stops, and it's only our eyes, telling our secrets. For a second I see everything between us, everything I feel, mirrored back at me in his face. Then I blink, and time restarts, and I can feel imminent tears.
I manage to keep my voice from wavering when I speak again. "Just don't try to engage me in inane conversation, because I can't sit across from you and act like you didn't use me and throw me away."
I stand up then and walk out, grabbing my jacket by the door. My eyes are brimming, and I'll be damned if he is going to see me cry.
I don't look around at the faces of my family on the way out the door. I walk away from the lake into the woods and don't pay attention to where I'm going, but I know the woods well. The ground crunches under my shoes, and it's the only sound until I hear footsteps following me.
I wipe my tears away and turn around shaking my head.
Jasper and Rose are looking my face over, gauging what phase of my manic outburst I'm in. The anger subsided, and now all that's left is embarrassment and sadness and a stinging feeling where the rage bubbled in my chest.
"Fuck. I'm sorry. He just…he fucking tried to make small talk and I just lost it," I sob, throwing my hands up.
"It's okay, B." Jasper steps toward me, wrapping me in his arms. I can feel Rosalie's arms too. "It was going to happen at some point, I guess. Maybe it's better to get it all out now."
I start to feel horrible, the embarrassment compounding and growing. My cheeks are hot.
"I can't believe I just did that," I whisper, tears streaming down my face.
"Girl, you didn't say anything he didn't have coming. No one is going to be mad at you," Rose is stroking my hair and speaking softly, "It might make opening the presents a little uncomfortable, though. By the way, what did you get him? Lump of coal? Fruitcake? A really ugly sweater?"
I smile then, and start giggling. A little at first, but then we're clutching our stomachs, and my tears are from the laughter.
"Did I seriously call him a douchebag? In front of my dad, and his mom? Holy shit." I gasp, trying to catch my breath.
"A raging douchebag!" Rose spurts out between giggles.
Jasper leans against a tree watching us and chuckling while Rose and I let the laughter consume us.
When we collect ourselves, we head back to the cabins, arms around each other.
We don't go back to Rose's right away, instead going to my cabin to find my dad, popping the top of one of his crappy canned beers.
"Bells, are you okay?" He scans Rose and Jasper's faces, and seems relieved at their smiles.
"I'm sorry, pops. I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I didn't mean for it to come out at all, honestly. I'm so embarrassed," I say, looking at him sheepishly.
"I think you've got nothing on Edward's embarrassment, kid. Esme yanked him out of there by his ear. You think I'm kidding, but I'm not." He punctuates his last statement by toasting me with his beer and taking a swig.
I allow myself a tiny giggle at that. Rose and Jasper laugh out loud.
"So, do you want to come back with us? I have to finish cooking," Rose asks, moving towards the door with J.
"I'm going to stay here for a minute and get it together. Then I'll be over." My stomach is uncertain about this statement.
Charlie stays, watching me get a glass of water and lean against the counter.
"I'm sorry," Charlie mumbles.
My brow furrows.
"For what, dad?"
"For not being good at this. If your mom was here she would know what to say, and she would have made sure it didn't happen in the first place."
Walking over to him, I throw my arms around his neck and hug him tightly.
"You are the best dad ever."
My eyes water for the second time that day. I wonder if I have PMS.
We break the embrace and he gets up, a little uncomfortable from our frank talk.
"I'm going to head over. I'm starving. Come when you're ready, kid."
I nod.
I spend the next hour running back over the conversation and imagining walking back into that room. One pitying glance and I may start crying again. I try to figure out where my resolve went.
When I get the balls, I walk back over and enter quietly. Everyone is scattered around the room, eating. Jasper has Charlie Brown Christmas music playing, just like every year. I smile, making eye contact with Esme and trying to look apologetic. She smiles back kindly. Edward sits next to her and doesn't look up.
I decide to sit with Emmett, because I can't handle awkward conversation at the moment. He's quoting lines from Super Troopers, and Rose is planning a dinner menu go along with it. That night the "adults" are going out for dinner, leaving us to our own devices.
"So the list, thus far, includes maple syrup, chinchillas, powdered sugar … and a keg?" Rose reads back the list, holding back laughter while Emmett nods at each item and pumps his fist when she reaches the keg.
"Who wants a mustache ride?" Emmett booms, his arms open wide, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Shhhh, Emmett!" Rose whispers dramatically, "or your mom may drag you out by your ear, too."
I roll my eyes at her.
"God. Shut up, you guys. You'll make it worse." I keep my voice low.
From what I can tell, Edward hasn't moved or spoken since I came back. I'm just avoiding that side of the room altogether. Everyone is acting unbelievably normal. We sit down to exchange gifts, and I'm suddenly very nervous.
I didn't know what to get for Edward. I thought about not getting him anything, but it seemed rude, and I didn't want to draw attention to our situation.
Too late for that, Drama Queen.
Sigh.
I ended up going with a scarf that I knit myself. I had a lot of free time on my hands after Rose intervened on my partying. It's a little bit ugly, and it's definitely misshapen, but the green reminds me of his eyes. I knit a few for other family members, so I hoped it wouldn't come off as too personal.
Now I'm horrified that I gave him anything at all, though.
Rose, Jasper and I used to fight over who got to play "Santa" and distribute the gifts. Now we fight over who has to do it. Thankfully, we're spared the tedium of opening the presents one at a time this year. Perhaps sensing my unease, Charlie declares a free-for-all, and paper and bows fly around the room.
Someone still has to pass out the gifts, though, and Jasper lost the Santa war this year.
Charlie bought me a new car. No shit. He didn't want me to have to drive it back to L.A., so in the box I find the keys and a picture of it sitting in our garage.
Best. Dad. Ever.
Towards the end of the frenzy Jasper hands me a small blue box - a Tiffany's box.
To: Bella
From: Edward
Attempting to keep from hyperventilating, I untie the ribbon and lift the lid. I don't look up to see if he is watching, and I don't know if he opened my crappy gift yet. I don't want to.
In the box is a necklace with a single, shining diamond dangling from the platinum chain.
It's beautiful.
I hate it because I love it, and I hate it because it's from him.
I stare down at it, taking shallow breaths, tears in my eyes for the third and hopefully final time today
My eyes flash to him involuntarily. I have no control over my expression, but if I had to I would guess it was something akin to heartbroken.
He's looking down at the lumpy scarf, though, his thumb rubbing the soft, cashmere yarn. I feel a hand on my shoulder, and look behind me to see Alice giving me a sad smile.
I don't get a chance to thank him, because he never looks up.
He avoids me until we leave a few days later, coming to dinners but spending a lot of time smoking on the deck.
Now that my anger has a chance to erupt, the longing and hurt have returned full force. Having him so close and not being able to touch him or even really talk to him is killing me. I regret telling him to pretend that it never happened more than anything, because even though he may be able to, I can't. Everything I've been running from starts to catch up, and I'm wallowing in emotions that I should have processed and moved past by now.
Once back in L.A., New Year's Eve comes up too fast. My friends drag me to a club that Alice's new status has gotten us into. I protest attending, but they insist. I concede and let Alice get me dolled up for the night. Everyone looks incredible, and we have too many drinks and tons of fun, but I'm the fifth wheel again, and am even more aware of this fact when midnight rolls around and I'm left standing alone with no one to kiss.
My morning ritual involves coffee, email and the crossword, in that order, so when I check my email on the morning of January 1st, I'm still half asleep.
My inbox is full of unopened mail, but I hone in on one and my heart starts to gallop.
To:
From:
Date: Fri, Jan 1 at 1:02 AM
Subject: Happy New Year
I know I'm not supposed to contact you, but I need a chance to apologize for everything. I'm an ass. I'm sorry. Please write back.
My heart rips open, and I find myself staring at the little blue box next to my computer that I can't bear to open again.
I should be happy, I guess, getting an apology. Instead I can only think about how insufficient it is in comparison to what he did, and how hurt I still am. I'm surprised when tears don't flood my eyes. I shut down my computer, and close my laptop, feeling like I'm closing a really good, sad book after finishing the last chapter.
Whew. There it is. Thoughts?