He should only have had another twenty minutes before reaching his destination. It was late spring, and it was pouring. Rain pelted against the windshield; Edward leaned forward against the steering wheel, looking up at the sky. Typical, he thought, noting the purple and black clouds and then sat back again, his foot in constant motion between the brake and accelerator. He texted a message on his Blackberry while waiting to inch his car forward once more; the exit he needed to take was close, but due to the snail's pace on the expressway it may as well have been another hundred yards away.
"She'd never forgive me for being late," he mumbled and flicked the defroster on high. But then again, she'd have no idea.
Edward began to think about the highs and lows of his past – after all, wasn't this supposed to be a time to reminisce?
"Have you heard anything?"
"Nothing since she called to say goodbye," Jasper said. "Edward, I'm so sorry."
"Everything is gone. I don't know how or when she did it, but the locks have been changed, and I think her apartment is empty. There's a For Sale sign in the window – did you see it?" Jasper just cocked his head. "The realtor won't give me any information; it's like he was told not to tell me anything… Where is she?"
"I don't know."
Edward shook away that memory and hit the turn signal. Luckily, the driver in the adjacent lane was polite and permitted him access to the exit.
His Blackberry vibrated. "I know," he answered aloud after having read the reply. He tossed his phone into the passenger seat and shifted the car into third and then fourth gear. He continued forward smoothly, quickly even, until coming to a standstill once again – taillights flashed red, blurred and misshapen, snaking as far as he could see. "You've got to be kidding me."
Edward reached toward the glove box and pulled out an envelope; it was pale yellow, heavier than it should have been, and the script on the front was basic, simple. He placed it next to his phone so as not to forget it when he finally arrived.
It had been close to a year since he'd seen her, close to a year since he'd heard her voice and felt her touch, and there was a hole inside him that he'd never want mended. If it had, if he allowed himself to go through the proper stages of loss, grief, and mourning, and, finally, acceptance, he'd lose the hurt, and therefore he'd lose her. Edward had never considered himself able to fall victim to gluttony, but if it meant that his need to hold onto Bella could only be fulfilled through greedily keeping and even encouraging the phantom pain in his heart to thrive, then so be it.
His meticulous methods at work had slackened. His staff had wondered if a change was coming, if they should have begun to seek employment elsewhere; Edward may have been lost inside himself, but he could still hear. His assistant, Kathryn, had assured him he had nothing to worry about, that his staff would remain loyal. He'd said he didn't care. The only time that had given him reprieve was his time with Senna. He'd doted on her, had spoiled her. He'd told her over and over again she was loved, and she was worthy. Edward made certain his daughter knew these things because Bella did not.
Edward's relationship with Jasper and Gabriel had weakened; the reminders had been too hard. One afternoon, Jasper had called Edward; he'd shared the news that Gabriel was going to become a grandfather in eight months thus making him one as well. Jasper had continued to speak of the news happily and lightheartedly, stating he was too young to be given such a title, and had thought about going by "Papa Jas." Without thinking, Edward had blurted that Bella would've been ecstatic about the news; Jasper had said she was.
September
Dear Bella,
It's been a while since you left – but you know this already. A few weeks ago, Jasper let it slip that he spoke with you. He said you're doing well, but only after I harassed him to tell me (That was a joke. Sort of.) Please don't be angry with him, not assuming you would be, but for the record, he didn't mean to tell me, and I found your address on my own. When I first started this letter it was right after I found out you'd been in contact with him, and that you're practically living across the country, but my cowardice prevented me from sending it. Now, though, I think I'm being selfish, and for that I'm sorry. I just needed you to know I want the best for you. I want you happy, and I want you safe. I don't expect to hear back from you, and I'm so, so sorry that if by this, I cause you any distress. I understand why you left; you were the strong one.
You're so much more than you ever realized.
Always,
Edward
He chose his words carefully; he didn't want to scare her nor did he want to give the impression he wanted to reconcile. Although, he would have done so in a heartbeat. As anticipated, Edward didn't hear from Bella immediately nor did he receive a hint from Jasper or Gabriel she'd even read his letter. He admonished himself several times over for mailing it in the first place, but there were too many "what if's" that'd run through his mind. Would she think him a bastard if he had not contacted her after knowing where she was? Would she think he hadn't cared?
After Edward had sent the letter to Bella, he checked his mailbox daily, hoping and waiting. Weeks upon weeks passed and there was nothing.
But then there was something.
His hand trembled, and he stared at the return address in a daze, holding his breath, too afraid to open the ivory envelope, yet too eager to not.
Dear Edward,
I'm sorry I didn't reply sooner. To say I was shocked when your letter came in the mail is an understatement, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. I don't know how much, if anything, Jasper has told you because he's pretty tightlipped with me – yes, I've asked about you. How could I not? But at the risk of being redundant, things are going pretty well. I'm working full-time in a flower shop. Sue and Harry weren't very happy when I gave them my notice, but they understood. I am living practically across the country, obviously, and it's just so different. The pace is slower, and it rains – a lot. I'm renting a small house with a wonderful view of other small houses. It's not much, but I like it. It's quiet.
I want you to be happy, too. I hope you are. It's been over a year, and I'm in a better place, but I'll never think of running as being strong. I hope you can forgive me. Do you know you're more than you realize, too?
Take care of yourself,
Bella
Within an hour, Edward drafted a response.
Dear Bella,
You didn't specify for me to not contact you… There's nothing to forgive. I was never angry with you – not once. You have no idea how relieved I was when I got your letter and to now know first hand that you're doing well is more than I expected. It's like a gift, one I'm not sure I deserve. I want to call you, but then I'm not so sure if that would be a good idea. You're also unlisted which tells me you don't want just anyone to have your number. You should know I haven't accessed the resources I have available to me either. I've never been a patient man, but I've learned restraint. It's not all it's cracked up to be, but I suppose that's not a bad thing. Regardless, I guess this is where we find closure because for one, I never thought your leaving was you running away, and two, I know somewhere you're breathing the same air I am, and you're living your life. But I'll reiterate – I understand why you left. It doesn't change what we had or how I feel about you, I hope you know that. Now, you're moving on, and I truly am happy for you.
By the way, slower paces are good.
Merry Christmas,
Edward
March
Dear Edward,
I'm having a hard time breaking our connection. Isn't that what we should be doing? Or should have already done? I thought I'd be able to not respond and tuck your letters away in a drawer, but I can't. Is that unhealthy? Do I even care? I'm not sure. Maybe I'm the one who's being selfish now. I've started seeing a therapist again; her name is Kate, and it's working out really well. She's sort of like a female version of Gabriel, but she's more formal. I won't bore you with the exercises she has me do, but they work. Who knew finding affirmations in your daily routine wouldn't be all that ridiculous? I told her about how we've written to each other, and in usual psychotherapist fashion, she basically said I needed to listen to my head and not my heart. The thing is, my head won't shut up because I can't imagine going on with the rest of my life not knowing if you're happy. You've yet to say that you are. So if it's closure we're supposed to find within the safety of writing, please tell me you're happy.
Slower paces are good except when you're late for work. I hope Senna is doing well.
Bella
p.s. There's something comforting about knowing we breathe the same air. I could never hate you. I'm not sure why you would even think that.
May
Bella,
Am I happy? That's a loaded question. I would have responded to your letter immediately, but it's not safe… for me. It's hard, I won't lie, and I'm scared my admittance will ruin these little bits of sanity I find when I see your handwriting on a simple piece of paper. The restraint I learned is tested, and instead of mailing a response, I want to deliver it in person. I hope that doesn't scare you off. I still see Dr. Saunders, not as often, but I do. It's nice to have someone to talk to and to be completely honest and open with. She has not suggested exercises or affirmations, but instead, strategies which is probably the same thing. She also nods a lot. My company is about to sign a major contract with a corporation overseas. Their headquarters are in Russia, and I'm going to be there for a couple of weeks. Senna isn't happy about it, but otherwise she's doing great. She's growing like a weed and will probably be in braces within the next month or so. I think the orthodontist is jumping the gun, but what do I know? She especially likes visiting her new god-cousin, Emily. If you speak with Jasper again anytime soon, can you tell him that "Papa Jas" just sounds strange?
Hate is probably too strong of a word. Disappointed, maybe? You've tried to break our connection; I don't think that's possible, not as long as I continue to hold on. I'm sorry, but I can't help it.
Edward
p.s. I couldn't sleep last night and ended up watching the sun rise. I thought about you. To answer your question, yes, I'm happier than I have been.
August
Edward,
It's been almost two years, and still, every day I fight the urge to pick up the phone to call you and beg for you to fly out here. Connection was a poor word choice because you're right, it can't ever be broken. Contact would have been better. So what do we do? Should I have taken what you said about being happier than you have been as goodbye? Is that what you were saying? I think I need the finality of that word because right now, all I want to do is hop on a plane. And if I do that today or tomorrow or even the next day, I wouldn't be able to leave, and that would bring us right back to where we were before. It killed me to walk out of my apartment and out on you that night. I sat in the lobby for an hour, you never came. Looking back now, though, I'm glad you didn't because inevitably one of us would have had to end it anyway. Doing that more than once would have been too much. I signed mortgage papers yesterday and now that small rental is mine. I'm taking business classes at night as well - so many things are changing for the better, but how I feel about you hasn't, and I don't think it ever will.
So, I must ask a favor of you, if you don't mind. Write back and tell me you've met someone else. You deserve to be with someone and not alone.
Bella
p.s. The gym I belong to has a pool, and I swim nearly every day. My restraint wavers, and I need you to be the strong one this time.
January
Bella,
I think this breakup we're trying to accomplish could win us a spot in the Guinness Book of World Records. It's never-ending, and surely that's worth something. I truly believe it's because neither of us wants it to be over. Or maybe I'm a hopeful idiot. If you knocked on my door, I wouldn't let you leave. Sometimes I close my eyes and try to remember what you smell like. I miss the sound of your voice; that memory is fading, too.
I've overflowed my trash bin numerous times with discarded letters. I've written so many and have said things I'm not sure you'd want to read. Not bad things, but what I stated above is the gist of them. How is it possible to gain closure to something you know in your heart can't possibly be over? The docs would probably classify it as an inability to let go of the past; I would disagree. Call me stubborn or whatever you'd like because if I'm being honest, I don't want it. To know that for an entire hour you were only feet away the night you left is more torturous than you could ever imagine. But as you pointed out, some things are inevitable, and I hate that. Senna tells me I'm a slob because of the overflowing trash. She's oddly clean for a 9-1/2 year old. She's living with me for the majority of the time now. I won't go into all the details, but her mom and I came to a mutual understanding after I got back from Russia. The point is, Senna is happy, and I love being a full-time dad. I have a business partner now who will do all the traveling so that I can spend more time at home. Speaking of business – you're taking classes? And you own a house. Congratulations - that's really great news.
I'm not alone; I spend all my free time with a young lady who is 4'11" tall, has light brown hair and green eyes. That's enough for me, but this is not. Call me, please. I'll say goodbye, but I want to hear your voice one more time. Think about it?
Always,
Edward
p.s. What's your take on second chances?
April
Edward,
Were you aware that your picture is shown next to the word "persistent" in the Merriam-Webster dictionary? Over the past three months, I've gone from being angry with you to wanting to indulge in you, and back to being angry again. You should see the amount of paper I've gone through, and, by the way, you should recycle. Despite the flux in my emotions over your last letter, I do believe in second chances. I think I'm living proof of that, but I know you were referring to the two of us. I was angry because you're making this very hard, and I want to indulge myself because I'm still in love with you. When I read each of your letters I was thrown into a tailspin. It took me a little while to recover, but I did. After the last one, though, I took a step back, a few times actually, and you know what? I realized I'm doing okay. My feet are planted here, and I need this. Most importantly, I need to know that I can, at the very least, survive on my own. My house is pretty old, and the roof started to leak. I quickly learned how to patch and paint the ceiling – it was a good feeling.
I'm afraid if I give in, I'll lose myself in you because I do love you. So, I have a proposition for you: be my friend. I don't have class on Tuesday or Friday nights and usually work until 7 p.m. the other nights of the week. My number is 360-555-0523.
Love,
Bella
p.s. Remember that thing about slower paces? It's not always about the traffic.
He wasn't sure how it happened, but during the time he was lost in thought, remembering the letters written between Bella and him, he'd driven for miles. The traffic jam was now far behind him; he looked into his rearview mirror seeing a steady stream of headlights. Edward glanced at the clock on his dash. "Shit!" he yelled, and pressed down further on the accelerator.
He also sped through a red light.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
With the back of his hand, the police officer tapped on Edward's window.
"License and registration."
Edward squinted against the rain coming in through the open window as he looked up at the officer. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know I went through a red light, but I'm on my way to a-"
"I don't care where you're going, buddy. You not only ran a red light, but you were also doing sixty in a forty-five. License and registration, please. And turn your car off – this could take a little while."
He rolled up his window and knocked his head back against the seat. His wallet lay open in his hand, a picture of Senna staring up at him.
"Dad? Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure, honey. What's up?" Edward spun around in his chair behind his desk as he closed his laptop.
Senna sat on the arm of the small couch in Edward's office and dropped a black duffel bag onto the floor by her feet.
"You found the bag – good," he said. "How late does practice run?"
"Six, but I'm going to Jess's house after."
"What time are you leaving for practice, and are you driving Jess anywhere besides her house?"
She sighed. "I'm leaving at three, and we might swing through McDonald's after practice, but that's it. Okay? Are we finished with the inquisition?" She smiled.
He smiled back. "Yes, and you'll text me when you get to Jess's?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Now what did you want to ask me?"
"Why don't you date?"
"What?"
"Date. Like take women out to dinner. You know, socialize?"
"I do things," he scoffed. "Why are you asking?"
"Dad, I never see you go out. You don't do anything. It's like my father's a monk except for the fact that he doesn't wear a brown robe and has like a million love letters from someone named Bella hidden in his closet. Who is she?"
"Senna, did you read those letters? I don't appreciate you going into my things."
She picked up the duffel, swinging it from the edges of her fingers. "I wasn't snooping through your things; I was looking for this."
"Did you read those letters?" he asked again, punctuating each word. Never mind they were in a box on the highest shelf in his closet; that was now a moot point.
"Just one. Who is she?"
Edward rubbed his hands on his knees and sighed audibly. "Which one?"
"Huh?"
"Which one did you read?"
Senna chewed at the inside of her cheek. "Um, the one that said she wouldn't marry you."
"Senna…" Edward shook his head, his eyes shut, his jaw clenched.
"I thought we agreed to never have any secrets between us. Remember?"
"We don't."
"Apparently, we do. You've been sending letters back and forth for ten years, Dad! I looked at the postmark dates. Ten years! Why are you asking a complete stranger to marry you?"
"She's not a stranger, Senna. There are some things that are too hard to explain."
"She's a stranger to me. I'm seventeen, and I think I'm old enough to know why my dad is keeping this major part of his life from me!"
"Senna…"
"Do you still love her?"
"Now's not the time."
"You do, don't you?"
"Just… we'll talk later."
"Dad!"
"Later, Senna! Go to practice, and we'll talk when you get home!"
She rose, clutching the straps of the duffel and cautiously approached him. "Are you mad?"
"No… I'm sorry I yelled; it's just very complicated."
Senna stepped back, her expression grave. "Is she the woman you cheated on mom with?"
"What?"
"Yeah, I've kind of known about that for a while."
Edward's eyes widened; his mouth opened, yet he was only able to utter small, nonsensical noises.
Senna sat down on the couch, the leather crunching underneath her. She pulled her cell phone out of her bag. "I'll text Jess and tell her I can't make it today. Can you call coach and tell him I'm sick or something? I don't think I'll be able to focus, and this is kind of more important." She wiped her eye with the hem of her sleeve.
Edward excused himself after agreeing to call Senna's lacrosse coach. Before he returned to his office to face his daughter, he drank a shot of bourbon.
Their conversation was slow, awkward. She started, explaining how she'd overheard her mother talking to a friend about being suspicious of her current husband cheating just like her first. Senna told Edward how she'd confronted her mother, how they'd fought and how she'd called her mother a liar. Edward confessed, and Senna cried. She locked herself in her room for the remainder of the night. When she surfaced the following morning, Edward had breakfast waiting: blueberry pancakes and bacon. He told her he didn't expect forgiveness and apologized to her for what was probably the hundredth time. It took Senna close to a week before she'd speak to Edward again. When she finally did, Edward made certain Gabriel would be available because he was planning on telling Senna everything.
"Jesus, Dad!"
"Senna…"
"Seriously? You not only cheated on mom, but you screwed a hooker?"
"Hey! I know this is overwhelming, but you need to watch your mouth."
She huffed. "Overwhelming? It's just wrong… on so many levels. I mean what happened to her when she was, what? Almost my age? That's sad and all, but still. You had an affair with a prostitute. How could you? It's gross!"
"Be mad at me all you want, okay? You have every right to be, but you will not be judgmental. I told you before it's very complicated."
She crossed her arms. The look of disgust on her face was nearly unbearable. "Yeah, complicated. That about sums it up."
"Enough." He jabbed his finger toward her. "Don't move." Edward stormed out of the room. Several minutes later, he came back into the kitchen. He slammed a stack of letters along with newly printed scans down on the table in front of Senna. "This is some of what I've written to her as well as some of her letters to me. Read them and then tell me how gross it is."
"So, are you telling me if I decided to sell my body, you'd be okay with it? Maybe I could pay my own way through college, and with the money I save you, you can spend it on-"
"Don't," he warned. "You know, for someone with a 4.35 GPA, you'd think your brain would have soaked up at least a fraction of an ounce of the tolerance I've tried to teach you. Your petulance is a little disappointing, too." He turned his back to her, angry, embarrassed, but most of all he feared the trusting relationship he had with Senna was finished. If not his relationship with her then certainly the one he'd had with Bella would be over.
"Look, I get that this is a lot to swallow, more than any child should ever hear from a parent. I'm sorry I said anything at all, and it was clearly a bad decision – you're only seventeen, and it's a lot to put on your shoulders. I've made a few mistakes in my life, Senna, but you were never one of them. But now you know - read the letters; maybe you'll understand things a bit more."
"Why should I?" she asked, but her voice devoid of her previous anger.
"Because I need you to… I'm going for a walk. I'll be back in about an hour, and I have my cell if you need to reach me."
When Edward returned, the house was eerily quiet. Senna's car was still in the driveway, and her bag still hung on the back of the kitchen chair, so he knew she hadn't left. He didn't call for her, instead, he waited. Later that evening, Senna finally emerged.
"I have some questions," she said, peering into Edward's office.
"Okay." He followed her into the family room.
"How many times did you ask her to marry you?"
"Once."
"And she said no because of me?"
"Not because of you – never because of you. She said she refused to start a life with someone when there were too many hurdles."
"Me."
"Not you."
"You talk on the phone."
"Yes."
"And you've gotten together with her?"
"Yes."
"When? How many times?"
"Just once. That time you spent a month with your mom over the summer a couple of years ago."
"You haven't seen her since then?"
"No."
"That's… insane."
He shrugged.
"Did you go out there or did she come here?"
"I went there."
"Was it hard?"
"Very."
"Did the two of you see other people at all? I mean, I know I said before that I've never seen you go out on dates, but did you?"
"Yes and no. We both socialized, as you like to call it, but nothing more than that."
"Huh."
"Yeah."
"There was a lot of personal stuff in those letters."
"Yes."
"And you let me read them."
"I wanted you to understand."
"So, are you like Richard Gere and she's Julia Roberts?" She smirked.
He laughed. "Not even close."
"Uncle Gabriel and Uncle Jasper know her."
"Yes."
"Everyone knew but me."
"Complicated. Remember?"
She nodded. "Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm leaving for college in a year and a half."
"Don't remind me."
She smiled. "What are you going to do when I'm not around?"
"I don't know. Work. The same thing I always do when you're at school or practice. Nothing different."
"No. Are you going to wait until then to be with her?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean is that what you're planning to do? Once I'm gone then the two of you can be together, right?"
"Senna, I told you the reason we're not together like a normal couple might be is not because of you. We both chose this… whatever you want to call it. Neither of us has ever thought that as soon as you're out of the house we can finally be together. I'm sure it looks that way, but it's not. I swear. We agreed a long time ago to let things happen on their own. She lives her life, and I live mine and occasionally they cross over."
"Occasionally? How many letters have you written to each other?"
"I don't know. Twenty, a thousand. I never counted."
"That's more than occasionally."
"I suppose it is."
"But you love her."
"Yes."
"Enough to want to marry her."
He hesitated. "Yes."
"My 4.35 GPA brain is telling me you're an idiot, Dad. This whole thing is crazy – do you know that?"
Edward sat back in his chair.
"Do you think she'd like me?"
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."
"Of course, she would."
"Would I like her?"
He shrugged again. "Probably. What are you getting at?"
"You're getting up there in age," she said. He raised his brow. "Well, you are. I don't think you should waste any more time."
"Care to explain?"
"Does she make you happy?"
"Yes."
"Do I?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"Dad."
"Yes, Senna, you make me very, very happy."
"Do you have any regrets?"
He paused. "I think everything we do leads us to where we're supposed to be. Consequences and rewards."
"That's deep."
"It's what I think."
Senna scooted back into the couch and removed a hair tie from her wrist. She scooped her hair into a pony tail and sat quietly for a moment.
"Then you should be together."
"What about how you felt earlier?"
She picked at her nail and shrugged. "I think you should do what makes you happy. I'm not totally okay about what you did, but I guess, I don't know, Dad. Maybe I found that tolerance you were talking about. So you love her, and she loves you, and if how she is in her letters is how she is in real life then she seems pretty okay. I think you should try to work it out."
"And what if she doesn't want that?"
"If she doesn't then she's as dumb as you are."
The pounding startled him. Edward quickly lowered his window, and the officer handed his license and registration back to him as well as a two hundred fifty dollar ticket.
"Slow down and pay attention."
"I will. Sorry."
The officer tipped his head toward Edward's phone which buzzed and flashed on the passenger seat. "You might want to answer that before you start driving again."
"Yes, thanks, Officer. Have a good day."
Edward read the message, irritated. "I know this," he said. Choosing to not waste any more time, he tossed his phone back into the seat instead of sending a reply and continued on. The hall was only right around the corner.
When Edward finally arrived, a few people were jogging across the parking lot to escape the rain. He flipped down his visor, and looked into the mirror to quickly straighten his tie. Edward first grabbed his black suit jacket from the backseat and then the yellow envelope. He ran from his car, shuffling into his jacket, the envelope in his teeth and passed several people hugging and talking who were standing underneath the eave.
The foyer was warm and humid; a low buzz of chatter surrounded him. Edward wiped the droplets of rain from the sleeves of his jacket and then ran a hand through his hair. He tucked the envelope into his inside breast pocket as he hurried through one of the doorways. He noted the dozens of empty chairs and breathed a sigh of relief. Edward craned his neck, searching through all the foreign and familiar faces then felt a tug on his sleeve.
"Where've you been?" Gabriel asked. Edward thought he sensed a slight annoyance in his tone. "Why didn't you answer my text?"
"Nothing more than a comedy of errors, and I didn't reply because I was only five minutes away at the time."
"All right then. Come on, let's go sit down."
Gabriel led Edward down an aisle. Edward spotted the back of Jasper's head, and peering over Jasper's shoulder was his and Gabriel's adopted five-year-old son, Samuel. Next to Jasper sat Leah, her husband, and their daughter Emily.
When she turned, he smiled.
Edward always smiled when he saw Bella. He'd still not been able to get over the small twinges in his stomach or how his heart beat just a little faster whenever they came together.
Bella,
Have you ever had one of those moments when you realized that life is just too short? When everything suddenly becomes crystal clear and that all of your insecurities and fears seem so utterly insignificant? I was recently given a push in that direction by a very unexpected source.
I love you. I love you with everything I am, and I don't want to wait for the start of us any more. Be with me. Tell your head to be quiet, and this time, listen to your heart. I love you. I'll tell you a million times over and for the rest of my life. We can do this, and deep down you know I'm right. We've both sacrificed and have paid for mistakes that were and were not the result of our faults. We agreed long ago to being apart and pretended these teases of letters and emails and phone calls would be enough. I don't want to be placated any longer. We deserve this; we deserve to be happy together, and I want to be able to actually see the smile on your face when you are. I'm not asking you to marry me again, at least not right now. But just know that if you wanted to fly to Vegas, I'm game. There's no reason for secrets any longer, and I will explain why another time, but for now, all I want is you. You're all I've ever wanted.
I'm tired of going to bed without you every night – you're supposed to be there next to me. I want to touch you and for you to touch me. I want to kiss you and argue with you and then spend the entire night making up. I can't promise you perfection, but I want to try. So, I'll ask again, be with me.
I love you, but don't write back so that I'll have to read that you love me, too. I already know; I've never doubted it. Instead, would you please open your door so I can see your beautiful face when you say it?
Love you always,
Edward
p.s. It's a little chilly out here, could you hurry up?
Edward's fingers were woven together as he hung onto the back of his neck; he paced small circles around her porch. He spun around, dropping his hands to his sides at the sound of her door opening. She held his letter in her hand; her expression hovered between shock and elation.
"How did you…"
"I waited for the mailman to show up, put the letter in your box as soon as he left, and waited for you to get home."
"Where?"
He pointed toward a dark blue, nondescript car parked across the street. "In the rental."
She nodded. "How long did you have to wait?"
"Too long."
She smiled, and then she laughed.
Edward walked forward and stepped up onto the threshold. He was so close he could feel her breath on his skin; she smelled like flowers and coffee. He wondered what she'd taste like, and if it would be familiar or new. "So?" he whispered.
"I love you."
He grinned. "And?"
"I want you to be with me."
Edward leaned in to kiss her, and it was both new and familiar. He couldn't wait to reacquaint himself with every inch of her all over again. They stood in the doorway wordlessly saying hello through kisses and touches, gentle strokes of tongues and light brushes of fingertips through hair and on skin. She felt the same to him: warm and soft, but she tasted so much better.
He walked her back, shutting the door behind him with one hand, still holding on to her with the other. "I missed these," he said, kissing the lids of her eyes. "And this." He kissed the tip of her nose. Edward continued his slow cadence of admittance and touching and tasting; he found he was blissful, simply enjoying the here and now with her – he had their lifetime for everything else.
"It's about time you got here," Bella teased. "Senna would have had your head on a platter if she knew you were late."
Edward kissed her cheek and rested his hand on her knee. "I know, but she's too busy lining up with the other graduates, and I'm sure she and Jess are on nostalgia overload right about now." He said hello to his mother and father who were sitting a few seats down, and as an afterthought he said, "But don't tell her."
Bella rolled her eyes.
"So did our salutatorian finish her speech last night?" Jasper asked, leaning toward them while Gabriel and Samuel played his favorite new game: rock, paper, scissors.
"About two this morning," Bella answered.
Edward nodded in agreement. He scanned the crowd, and then happened to lock eyes with Gwen. She and her husband were two rows in front of them. They acknowledged each other pleasantly, and she turned back around. For the sake of Senna, they'd come to an agreement a year prior: Gwen would say nothing derogatory about Bella, and Bella wouldn't scratch out her eyes.
Pomp and Circumstance began to play, and Edward swallowed down the lump in his throat as he watched Senna march with the other graduates down the center aisle. He'd never imagined he could be any more proud than he was in this moment. It both saddened and delighted him seeing her in her navy cap and gown, the gold and green cords draped from her neck, and he thought how grown up she really was.
The whistles and applause were nearly deafening by the time the graduates completed their march, a select few seated on the stage, Senna among them. The headmaster took to the podium to begin the ceremony.
Bella watched Edward as he and Senna exchanged smiles. She was incredibly in love with everything about him: his strength and his passion and even his weaknesses. When times weren't perfect, she reminded herself that Edward never promised perfection, but that he'd wanted to try, and together they did.
Senna looked toward Bella, and the two shared a smile as well. Bella added a small wave.
She never thought this would be her life, one in which she was surrounded by people she loved who loved her just the same. And after everything Bella had been through, the pain, the happiness, the fears, and the certainties, she discovered her strength. Bella found honesty and happiness with Edward, and he found it with her.
The End
A/N: Thank you so very much for reading. The reviews throughout this story have been amazing, and so much more than I ever expected. There are some really wonderful people in this fandom.
My betas and pre-readers have also been really incredible as well. Askthemagic8ball, sncmom, and katinki are smart, wonderful women and it's pretty awesome to say they're my friends, too. (they're probably rolling their eyes at me, but I don't really care. lol)
Finally, I'm writing a side shot of Jasper and Gabriel for Fandom for Sexual Assault Awareness. It's a highly worthy cause, and I hope you'll consider donating at least the minimum amount of five dollars. You'll receive a compilation of one shots, outtakes, etc. from over ninety authors. More information can be found here: http:/fandom4saa . wordpress . com/
All my best
~T