Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Dodge and Burn.
Much love and thanks to Editor Azucena , Pre-readers BtwntheStacks and Lemonmartinis and Beta-MsKathy...such great women. I'm so grateful to have their help.
It's a given that we love Edward in our fanfics, but it thrills me that so many of you love this Bella. I really appreciate your reviews and feedback. I learn and find inspiration from the thoughts you share with me. ~Thank you
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Dodge and Burn / Chapter Nine / Just a Glimmer
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"Look at this one, Angela, it has a hillside view of the rolling hills of Tuscany." Bella sighs. "And listen to the name, Al Casino Dei Papi…so Italian!"
She laughs. "Yes, that makes sense since it's in Italy."
"Can you imagine having a glass of wine on this patio?"
Angela smiles at Bella's enthusiasm. "That would be lovely."
Bella points to a picture of one of the bedrooms. "Look at this canopy bed…mama mia!"
"Italians don't really say mama mia, Bella. I've heard that's more of a stereotype. You need to get one of those Rosetta Stone programs to learn how to speak the language."
"We're leaving within weeks so there's no time for that!" She waves her hand in the air. "But I've always been told I'd fit in beautifully in Italy due to my passionate nature." She grins.
"I don't doubt it," Angela agrees.
Bella opens up another window on her laptop. "Oh, but look at the pool and garden with this one, Villa Eugenia. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"
"So, remind me again of the specifics why we're having Italian for dinner and you're looking at Italian villas?" Angela asks patiently.
"Because Edward and I are going to Italy as soon as we decide on a place."
"So let me get this straight, your friend Edward," she does dramatic quote marks in the air with her fingers on the word 'friend,' "is taking you to Italy to reveal to your passionate ex-lover, baby-daddy that he has a grown son he's never met? This sounds like a made-for-TV movie." She grins and shakes her head.
"I know, it's kind of wild, isn't it?"
"I'll say. And your 'friend' is paying for the trip? I wish I had friends like that."
"Well, we've yet to sort all that out, but he wants to."
"And in this villa you're going to rent, will you have separate rooms?"
Bella raises her eyebrows at Angela. "Is this your way of asking if we sleep together?"
"Maybe." Angela is sporting a devilish smile.
Bella sighs. "We'll have separate rooms."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Honestly, Bella, that is one fine looking man."
"Don't remind me."
"What's the impediment? I got the feeling that he's quite taken with you when you came into my office together for his follow-up."
"I suppose. But I think he's hoping to work things out with his wife, who he's separated from."
Angela's expression falls. "Oh, no. Then why are you even in the picture? That just confuses things for both of you."
"Because the idea of no longer being friends with him is too painful to me. I know, I know…I'm screwed, aren't I?"
"Probably," Angela answers pragmatically. "Have you slept together?"
"No." She blushes. She can't hide anything from Angela.
"But you want to."
"Oh, Angela. It's getting to the point where it's all I think about. My day and night dreaming is one never-ending erotic film starring Mr. Edward Cullen."
"So the hormones are all charged up on full cylinders." She rests her hand on Bella's shoulder. "I just don't want you to get hurt, my friend."
"I know. I keep hoping it's a phase and that I'll just get over it, but it's only getting worse."
"Be careful, Bella, please."
As soon as the words leave her mouth, Angela knows the irony. Her friendship with Bella has spanned many years, starting with their two children becoming friends in preschool. Angela's been her confidant, her doctor, and her support through Bella's mother's long illness. She's seen her in the best and worst of times and there's one thing she knows for sure: Bella's a lot of things, but careful isn't one of them.
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..~*~..
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That night in bed, Bella sorts through the array of Edward fantasies that she's created in her mind. These mini-films starring the two of them both arouse and satisfy. Sometimes she wonders if they dangerously fuel her obsession with the man, but she enjoys them so much that she succumbs to her urges. Tonight she's leaning towards a dramatic fantasy…something epically romance novel-ish.
Perhaps it will be the King Edward one, where he storms in on his horse and rescues her from her captor. She especially likes that one, because once he gets her back to their castle, he ravages her on the royal bed. Or perhaps tonight it will be the shipwrecked on the tropical island one where they make wild, desperate love on the beach.
Or maybe tonight, she just wants to think about her real life Edward…the man who held her tightly in his arms and told her he was taking her to Italy. In these private moments, she allows herself to think that each touch and look he gives her means something more…tiny encrypted codes that, when put finally together, will open up the lock protecting his heart. As she pictures his strong shoulders and the way he fills his jeans, she slowly slides her hand under her chemise and across her hip. She imagines it's his hand touching her, his breath catching in the still night air.
As her fingers edge between her legs, she pictures the look of primal need he gives her when he thinks she isn't paying attention. The thrill she gets from his hungry gaze makes her think he could be in his bed now with the sheets pushed down. Maybe he's imagining that it's her hand stroking him firmly…her naked breast in his warm hand.
Her blood heats as if she can feel his lips on hers, his weight settling over her. She pulls her legs apart for her phantom Edward, as his words of unrestrained desire fall over her. She arcs her back, letting her fingers become his, as she lets him take every part of her, again and again.
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..~*~..
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Late Tuesday afternoon, he finds her in her photo studio, a large room with bright white walls and high ceilings.
"Hey," Bella says, grinning as he enters. "I wasn't expecting a visit. It's great to see you."
He watches her wind up a long cord and then put the lens cap on her camera before he walks over to give her a hug.
He notices all the equipment that's set up. "Are you getting ready for a shoot?"
"No, actually, I finished one earlier. I'm just shutting down."
"How'd it go?"
"Great. We had fun." She searches through some stuff on a rolling cart next to her camera. She pulls out a small picture. "Here…do you want to see one of the Polaroids?"
He walks over and she hands him the glossy rectangle. He holds it up to study the black and white image of a beautiful young couple. They look completely enchanted with each other.
"Very nice. So you shoot Polaroid? I didn't even think that they made this stuff anymore. I thought you shot film?"
"I'm old school, remember? Besides, the Polaroids are just to test the light and exposure. The rest of what I shot was on film."
"Do you develop the film yourself?"
"No, I don't trust myself with that. I do the prints because you can redo them if you mess up…you only have one chance with film negatives. I use a professional lab for that."
"Such technical stuff," he marvels.
She pushes him playfully. "I bet you're surprised. You probably didn't think I could be so techy."
"You always surprise me, Isabella. It sure keeps things interesting." He walks around the studio studying things while she continues to finish up.
She notices he looks a little nervous and she remembers that he was supposed to have the meeting with the lawyers today.
"Hey, everything alright?" she asks, pulling him out of his deep thoughts.
"Yeah, I was wondering if we could talk? I mean, if you have the time."
"Sure, I'm pretty much done in here anyway. Let's go outside." She grabs a couple of bottles of water from the studio fridge before they settle in the patio.
He leans forward on his elbows and twists the bottle cap back and forth anxiously. "We had the first meeting with the divorce lawyers today."
"That must have been difficult," she says.
"Well, the shit is real now. Division of assets, blah, blah, blah. Thank God we don't have kids. Her lawyer would want to divide them, too."
"Yucko," Bella responds.
He laughs. "Yeah, I couldn't have said it better myself. A big, mother-fucking fat yucko. Lauren even looked a little stunned."
"How was it, seeing her again?"
He rocks in his seat for a moment. "How do I explain it? It was awful and awkward, but also kind of good. I've missed her, you know?"
"I can imagine." Bella's heart thumps a little slower.
"She looked good. She's been taking care of herself. Too bad I can't say the same."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. You're taking care of yourself now."
He looks up at her and their eyes hold on each other for several beats. "Thanks to you."
"Not just me, Edward," she insists.
"Anyway, Jeffrey must be taking very good care of her." He pulls the cap off the bottle and finally takes a swig of water.
Bella decides to avoid speculating when that won't do Edward any good. It's doubtful they'll ever know the real truth about what Jeffrey is to Lauren. It doesn't matter anyway.
"So how were things left?"
"Well, that's the weird part. The lawyers went over some legal crap that they were going to regroup about. I had pretty much tuned out at that point. I just let Emmett's partner do his thing. The guy's sharp. But when we had all parted and I was about to get into my car, I turned around and there she was."
"Lauren?"
He pulls his fingers through his hair. "Yeah. It was weird. She was different…softer than in the meeting, and she asked me if we could have dinner. I asked why, and she said that there were some things she never got to explain and she really wanted the chance."
She studies him carefully and can't tell if this encounter made him hopeful or wary. In the moment, he's hard to read.
"Wow. How do you feel about that?"
"I don't know. She wants to have dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, not coffee…not another conversation around the lawyers. I'm not sure what to think."
The fact that he's falling in love with Isabella only confuses him more.
Bella grips her water bottle a little tighter. She knows what she should say, but a part of her doesn't want to. Part of her wants to say something disparaging about Lauren and tell Edward not to trust her. But she reaches inside and says what really should be said. "You know if you really want her back, it sounds like this would be a good time to tell her that." She looks down and takes a deep breath to steady herself. "The opportunity might be presenting itself, Edward. Maybe she just needed some time."
He stands up, walks to the edge of the patio, and focuses on the distance. "I don't know, Bella. I just don't know."
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They decide to have an early dinner at the Aroma Café. They sit in the back patio and talk about everything but Lauren. When Edward drives Bella home, he pulls into her driveway and parks to walk her to the door.
"I'm going to head home if that's all right with you."
"Sure," she says, even though nothing about it feels right.
"Before I do though, there's one other thing. The dinner with Lauren is this Thursday, so that means I won't be able to come play for you that night."
Bella turns away so he can't see her disappointment and she fumbles with the key to open her door. "That's okay. I understand," she says quietly.
He wraps his fingers around her arm and gently pulls her around to face him. "Are you sure it's okay?" He can tell it isn't, but he doesn't want to undo what's been planned. He wants to get it over with. "Can we do it Friday instead?"
But Thursday is our day, she thinks to herself childishly. Thursday, not Friday. Lauren could have had him any other night, but she picked mine.
He waits for her response and worries she's going to turn him down…that somehow this has thrown their balance off. Could it be that Lauren's needs suddenly stacked onto their scale and tipped it over? He'd hoped that things weren't that delicate between them.
"Sure," she finally replies, giving him an unconvincing smile. "Friday's fine."
..~*~..
That night, Bella works on journal entries as she listens to loud, aggressive opera and drinks wine. She creates three pages, working quickly, using her instincts and heart instead of her brain. As always in her journaling, she's trying to quiet her thoughts and let the art come from somewhere unknown, a part of her energy buried deep inside.
The first two pages are abstract collages of words and images. She's too close to them to even begin to analyze what they mean. She may never need to. She resolves to just let them be.
The third though takes shape, and when she feels like it's done, she studies it. The most prominent elements are a hand in the foreground and a bird in flight that is in the upper half of the page. The colors are muted, like a sepia toned print that has been hand colored.
The only thing she can't decide is if the hand is trying to catch the bird or has just lifted it towards the open sky to set it free.
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..~*~..
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"It feels weird not being there to play for you," Edward says after greeting Isabella over the phone. "I mean, I know I'm coming tomorrow…"
"See, and I've decided that's cool. We're shaking it up. Maybe we were getting too routine."
"I suppose so," he says.
"So tomorrow, why don't you play something unexpected."
"I always play some unexpected stuff," he says, sounding defensive.
"I mean extra-extra unexpected," she teases. "So, are you nervous about seeing Lauren?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to profess your undying love and beg her to come back?"
He gets quiet.
"Bella, are you okay? Why are you being this way?"
"What are you talking about? I'm fine…except, oh hell! I forgot to buy lemons!"
"Lemons?"
"Yes, for the chicken piccata."
He hears the clack of her sandals on the tile floor. She must be moving through the house while they're talking. Why is she so distracted?
"Oh look, there's still some lemons on the tree. I'm saved!"
"You're cooking chicken piccata tonight?" I love chicken piccata, he thinks.
"Yes, you aren't the only one with a hot date. I'm having a gorgeous young man for dinner and that's his favorite dish."
He's stunned. A hot date? His stomach drops as the jealousy in him revs up like a race car on the starting line.
"You're cooking for him? You've never cooked dinner for me?" His mock indignant tone sounds a little too real.
"I know I'm forgetting something else," she mumbles absent-mindedly to herself.
Does she even care that I'm still on the phone with her? "Isabella?"
"Oh damn, I know…I forgot to wash the sheets. I've gotta go, Edward. Listen, have a great time with Lauren. And if things go even better than you hope, then don't worry about tomorrow night; just leave me a message that you can't make it."
Wash the fucking sheets? "But, Isabella…"
"Gotta go! Later!"
She hangs up and curls over, trying to catch her breath. She's gutted as the reality slaps her hard in the face. Edward's going to be with Lauren tonight. She honestly didn't think this would be so hard.
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Edward grips the disconnected phone in his hand long after she's gone.
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..~*~..
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He drinks iced tea as he waits at their table. There's no booze yet since he's determined to keep his wits about him as long as possible. Even though he's expecting her, he's shocked when he sees Lauren glide into the restaurant and smile when the hostess points out where he's sitting. The entire walk to their table she never takes her eyes off him.
It's incredibly awkward as she smoothes her napkin over her lap and he pushes his unopened menu around nervously.
"I haven't been here in a long time. Not since…" He stops himself. "Anyway, I hardly recognize anyone."
She looks around and nods. "They must be having turnover issues." She focuses back on him. "So, how are you?"
He pauses, resisting the pat social reply. "It's been a rough time, but I think I've turned the corner."
"Yes, I assumed so when my lawyer said you finally were ready to move forward. What changed?"
"Some of it was just time passing. But also, I have a new friend who's helped a lot."
"Really? How'd you meet him?"
"It's actually a woman. Her name's Isabella."
It's almost imperceptible how her lips tighten, but he knows all the subtle nuances of moods from his soon-to-be-ex-wife. Her eyes dart down and she opens up her menu. "Why don't we order and then you'll have to tell me about her."
A moment later a chatty waiter approaches their table and they get absorbed in his elaborate presentations of the night's specials. He pushes them to make the all-important decision whether to pre-order their famed lava cake dessert or not, since it takes an hour to make. Edward is dubious. Who knows if this dinner, an attempt at being civilized, will last long enough for dessert?
Although she initiated this meeting, Lauren doesn't begin to relax and open up until she is two thirds done with her dry martini. Edward slowly nurses a scotch on the rocks and waits to hear what she's come to say.
"The thing is, it's taken a while for me to figure out what happened between us."
"You've figured it out?" He smiles. "Why don't you enlighten me, then?" He cringes inwardly when he realizes his words sounded harsher than he intended.
She chooses to ignore his barely veiled sarcasm.
"For me, it all started when Esme died. I don't know if you understood how much she meant to me, how she made me feel like a daughter, when your dad and Rose always kept me at arm's length."
"That's not true," he argues. "They loved you, too."
"It was never the same with them; you guys were such a tight insular family. It was hard for an outsider to penetrate your bubble. Emmett and I even talked about it a few times."
Edward is surprised to hear that about Emmett. He would have never guessed he felt that way.
"So I was devastated when Esme died so quickly, but there was no room for my grief. Carlisle's mourning and his illness were all that mattered."
"Does that really surprise you? He was her husband after all, and she was the love of his life."
She sighs deeply. "I understand that, but from then on, your total focus was Carlisle and trying to keep him alive. It broke my heart to watch. You gave up everything to help him, and all he really wanted was to die. I think he was certain he would join Esme in the afterlife or something."
Edward rubs his hands over his face before leaning back in his chair. "I hope he was right. I hope they're together now."
"I hope so, too." Lauren looks up and motions for the waiter to get her another martini. She turns to Edward, "Do you want another?"
"No thanks," he replies as he rolls the ice cubes around in his glass. "You know what I've wondered a million times? What if all of that hadn't happened…my parents' death and my resulting depression? Do you think we'd still be together?"
"I do," she says, but her voice isn't completely convincing.
"Was it a good marriage? The reason I ask is that I always thought it was, but now I'm not so sure."
"Why do you say that?"
"I think we grew apart."
"I think that's a cop out," she insists. "We stopped working on it. Relationships take work."
She makes it sound like a job…like I'm one of her clients.
"It was also hard for me feeling like you lost interest in me sexually." She folds her arms defensively, but he can tell she's wounded.
He shakes his head. "That's not true. At the end you always seemed tired, ambivalent even."
Edward starts to feel warm, and not in a good way. It may be from the liquor, but this conversation is slowly scorching his insides.
"Maybe because I didn't think you found me attractive anymore."
Edward leans forward exasperated. "How can you say that? You've always been beautiful. I always wanted you, even if I seemed too distracted or depressed to make sure you understood that."
"Really?"
"Yes. It killed me that you got in another man's bed."
She carefully tucks her hair behind her ear as she looks down. "I wish I hadn't. Don't get me wrong, Jeffrey's been very good to me and a boost for my self-esteem. But you…well, you were always my kind of man."
He looks at her, understanding that they've just crossed some kind of line. It's maddening. Why are they having this conversation now? Why not when things first began to crumble?
He studies her as she makes room on her place-setting for the new martini. The waiter smiles at her appreciatively as he sets the drink down, and she smiles back. She's perfectly polished: her hair and make-up, her nails, her tailored jacket and slacks. She always has been, and carries herself with a confident air. It occurs to him that she's almost the exact opposite of Isabella in every way.
He also notices that her silk blouse is cut a little lower than she usually wore, and the faint scent of his favorite perfume fills his senses.
Does she still want me to want her?
He's not sure whether the answer would make him angry or surprised. They're in the middle of a divorce, for God's sake. Is this a game to her, or is she having second thoughts?
Under the table, he grips his knees hard as he turns toward her.
"What are we really doing here, Lauren? What do you want?"
"Want?" she asks, too demurely for his comfort.
"Yes, want. And not in the terms of 'Do you want the dining room table or the living room couch?' Me…what do you want from me?"
She lifts the toothpick out of her drink and pulls the olive off with her teeth before turning toward him.
"Do you really want to know?"
..~*~..
That night, Edward lies in bed with his eyes wide open. The idea of sleep is a joke, even though it would provide refuge from his confused mind. Everything about that dinner was a conundrum. He thought he would leave with answers, instead all he got was more questions.
Lauren was different in ways he can't yet put his finger on. He has to wonder if this poised, calculating woman is who she is now. Maybe he needed the time apart to really see the woman she's actually become, not just this fictional person in his head comprised of memories from their earlier happy times.
Or maybe it's him that's changed. Wondering if your marriage still fits isn't like seeing if the tux you wore on your wedding day can still button up comfortably. If they did decide to give things another go, would it make him happy?
He thinks about Isabella encouraging him to tell Lauren that he still wants her and has hope for their marriage. Can Bella really be that selfless? He had really started to believe that she carried a spark for him, even if it was just a glimmer. Perhaps he'd been wrong.
He flips again and punches his pillow into shape. He can't help but think about the mysterious man Bella invited for dinner and washed the linens for. If he'd been a completely free man, without being tangled in the web of his failed marriage, would he have been the man she'd cooked for? The man she'd press down onto her freshly laundered sheets?
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..~*~..
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The next morning as he stands in line at the bagel store, he starts to question his sanity. In theory Bella might not mind him just dropping in at nine a.m. with fresh bagels, but this isn't just any morning. What if she's still in bed with Mr. Chicken Piccata-Fresh Sheets? What if they're in the middle of a morning fuck when he rings her damn doorbell?
He almost convinces himself to abandon his poorly thought out plan when he gets to the front of the line, but he can't will his legs to move, and he pulls out his wallet to pay for the bag of bagels. Why did he buy so many? What's he thinking?
His eye twitches the entire drive to her house. When he parks, he's unsettled as if he's suddenly a stranger to this place that's always felt so welcoming to him. As he gets out of his car, he realizes he wants that feeling back…however he can get it.
He rings the bell and taps his foot nervously as he waits. There's no answer so he tries again. Finally, he hears what sounds like the shuffle of footsteps. The door pulls slowly open.
Standing before him is a man who clearly has just woken. He looks at Edward warily as he runs his fingers through his messy hair. He has no shirt on, just his jeans barely holding onto his narrow hips.
"Yeah?" he groans, squinting into the light.
Edward almost has to look away. The guy can't even be thirty—his chest and shoulders are irritatingly defined and his face looks young despite the stubble from not shaving. His skin is a dark olive and his eyes widen when he sees the bag of bagels. Edward guesses all that sex made him hungry.
Edward leans to the side and looks over his shoulder to see if he can spot Isabella. Perhaps she's stretched out in a negligee waiting for this man to come back to bed.
Mr. Piccata glances over his shoulder to figure out what Edward's looking for, and turns back and smirks.
What the fuck? Could this be any more humiliating?
Am I going to surrender my dignity? What else do I have to lose?
Edward clears his throat and looks Piccata in the eyes.
"I'm here for Isabella."
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Hmmm, who could the mystery man be? I love hearing from you...
Thanks for reading
xoxo
abbie
See you next Saturday!