Chapter 3

"We can hop on a plane first thing in the morning, Bella."

I shook my head as I held the phone to a year. "No. I made this decision weeks ago, and I'm not changing my mind now."

"But they're naming a street after him."

I scoffed at the pure ridiculousness of the situation. Tomorrow was another day, just like the last three-hundred and sixty-four . . . only it really wasn't. It was a year. A full year since my dad had been killed. A full year since Forks, Washington's beloved chief of police lost his life in a gas station robbery gone wrong. A robbery that he shouldn't have even responded to, let alone witnessed off duty.

Apparently, his heroics deserved a street to be named after him. He'd have hated it, just like I did. I could've almost heard his gruff scoff when I'd been told of the ceremony. He'd have called it stupid, confusing, and a waste of tax payers' dollars. Because, really, it was.

"Alice, I'm not going. I laid him to rest by pouring his ashes in the Hoh River, like he wanted. There's no reason for me to go back."

"I'm sorry, baby."

I angrily wiped at the stray tears I'd let slip onto my cheeks and lied to her. "I'm fine."

"Want me to come over?"

"No, I'll see you tomorrow."

She sighed. "Okay, but if you change your mind, just give me a call."

"I won't, but thank you. I love you."

"Love you too, Bella."

After hanging up the phone and tossing it beside me on my bed, I did something I wished I hadn't and just cried. I didn't want it to affect me. I didn't think the year mark would hit so hard. I'd grieved — mostly — and I'd laid him to rest, just where he wanted. The fact it had been a year shouldn't have done this to me, but it did.

I cried because I felt utterly alone in this world. My parents were dead and Alice was the closest thing I had left to family, but really, she wasn't. Of course I loved her like a sister, but it wasn't the same. She had parents, a little sister, and even her grandmother left. But I had nothing.

And I fucking hated how pitiful I felt — all woe is me. I wasn't that person. At least I didn't want to be. I felt sorry for myself, which was utterly insane.

Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy . . .

I snatched my phone off of the bed, hitting accept so I could end the horrible, guilty pleasure song that I loved. Well, not so much anymore. I needed to change it. "Hello."

"Will you unlock the door for me? I have Chinese take-out, which, as I'm sure you're aware, is fantastic at ten o'clock at night."

My eyes widened and my heart sped up at the handsome voice on the other end of the line. I instantly stopped my sniffling, for fear that he'd hear it. "What?"

"I'm outside of your building. Open up, beautiful girl."

I moved off of my bed, wiping at my cheeks to try to clear them of the tears. "I thought you were stuck at work all night."

"I'm slick and got someone to cover for me. It's cold out here, in case you didn't know."

I hurried out of my room and toward my door, hitting the button to unlock the building door. The thought "worst timing possible" came to mind as we hung up and I waited the few minutes for him to take the elevator up. I ran back into my bathroom, splashing water on my face to try and hide the fact that I'd been crying.

Edward was not supposed to see this. He was supposed to be at work all night — after working since seven in the morning the day before — which would mean he'd be exhausted and I wouldn't have to see him at all until after the anniversary of my dad's death had passed.

Of course things didn't work out as perfectly as they should have. I honestly should've expected it because I wanted it to work out like that. The world is a bitch, clearly. A bitch that wanted the kind-of relationship we'd started to end much sooner than I wanted.

We'd been seeing each other for a month and a half. It was a little early for him to have to deal with this — to see how alone I felt. He'd realize now that it was something he didn't want to deal with, so he'd end it.

Once he knocked, I opened the door and the look instantly registered on his face. His handsome smile fell and his brow creased as he eyed me. "What's wrong?"

I shook my head, trying to keep it together. "I just . . . wasn't excepting you."

"So, you cried?" He walked past me into my apartment, setting the bag of delicious smelling food down as I shut the door and turned toward him. "Bella, what's going on? Did something happen?"

And though I tried to force it away, I couldn't and the crying started all over again. His arms were around me within moments, holding me to his chest. "I'm sorry," I cried, trying to control myself. I failed. Miserably.

His hand rubbed my back as I dug my face deeper into his oddly soft, yet scratchy scrub top. My hands locked around his back, holding onto him for — what it seemed like from the sounds that were escaping my lips — dear life. "Just let it out," he murmured. "I've got you."

"It's been a year," I sniffled after a few moments. "I'm sorry."

He pulled back, cupping my face in his hands. His green eyes met mine, and I swear to god, I saw compassion. If it were possible to see. I was fully aware it wasn't, but still.

"Don't apologize. What's been a year?"

"Since my dad died."

"Bella," he sighed, pulling me back into his arms. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry."

"You should go."

"No."

I looked up at him, cocking my head to the side. "You shouldn't have to deal with this."

He shrugged. "That's debatable. I care about you, so I think it's exactly what I should deal with. I should be here for you. Now, let's eat some Chinese food, lay wherever you want, and then we can do whatever you want."

"You do realize you shouldn't say things like that to me, right?"

He cracked a smile. "And why's that?"

"Because I'm very fond of you and that just makes me more fond of you."

He chuckled softly, picking up the bag of food with one hand as his other held mine. "Then I think I might just keep saying things like that."

. . . . .

We wound up in my bed, eating delicious Chinese food as he let me talk about my dad. I recounted many fishing trips — which I hated at the time, but now missed dearly. And how he'd always been the first person to read whatever I wrote — even though I was sure he hated it. And the other little things I missed.

"He hated New York," I said, sniffling. "Like, so incredibly much. But he always came for most holidays, though I had to come home for Easter. I'm still not sure why Easter and not something else, but that's what we'd decided on. He wouldn't leave my apartment without me. He never said so, but I was sure it was because he was afraid to get lost. He knew Forks like the back of his hand. You could blind fold him and he'd still be able to take you anywhere, so he didn't like being out of his element."

"What else?" Edward asked, smiling as he held my hand.

It seemed like such a trivial thing — the hand holding — but at that moment, I felt like it was the only thing that kept me from bursting into hysterics again. It was a simple touch, but it was also so much more.

"He called me Bells." I smiled at the memory, wishing I could hear his voice say it one last time. "No one else ever called me that, and I'd probably hit someone if they tried now. I never realized how much I liked it. It's those things, you know? That you miss the most. The nicknames, the Sunday evening phone calls, the horribly crafted texts that were filled with the most hilarious autocorrects. I bought him an iPhone about a year before he died and he hated it," I laughed as tears kept falling. "I just miss him."

He nodded, lifting his free hand to wipe my cheeks. "He sounded like a great guy."

"The best."

"I wish I'd gotten to meet him."

"Oh, he'd have hated you more than the iPhone."

He chuckled. "Not a fan of men you were fond of, huh?"

"Nope." I shook my head. "But . . . it was just who he was. I was his little girl. His whole world. After my mom died, we were all each other had. Do you see that stuffed rabbit?" I pointed at one of the bookcases in my room.

He nodded, letting go of my hand and moving off of my bed. He picked it up gently off of the shelf and smiled. "Please tell me you named it."

I smiled through the tears and nodded as I remembered. "He got me that a few weeks after her funeral. I was sad, of course, and he was clueless. So, he brought home Fluffers. He told me that though Mom was gone, things would be okay and we'd always be a family — death wouldn't change that. The bunny literally had nothing to do with what he told me, but he just thought I'd like it."

He handed me the pink rabbit and I hugged it to my chest, feeling like that seven year old girl again.

"It's not fair."

"What's not fair?" I asked, looking up to find him with a sorrowful expression.

"That he's gone. That your mom's gone. You deserve happiness."

I wanted to tell him that he'd made me happier than I'd been in a long time, but the words didn't come out. They were stuck in my throat because of fear. If I actually admitted to him that I was happy, maybe the happiness would end.

Maybe the world would take another thing from me, and I wasn't ready for that.

. . . . .

Edward and I wound up falling asleep together in my bed. There was no spectacular sex, but that was okay. He just held me, and it was more perfect than words could explain. I cried some more, even though I tried to stop, and he just kissed my forehead and told me to let it out.

The handsome man proved to me much more than just a handsome man who fucked me better than anyone else.

He cared for me.

He finally left the next morning around eleven, and then Alice came over shortly after and spent the day with me, watching stupid movies and making fun of the people on different reality shows. My mind was taken off of my dad for a bit, but of course it returned — as did the tears.

But between Edward and Alice, the day wasn't as bad as it could have been.

I mean, it still sucked, but I figured it always would.

Over the next two weeks, I had a few more dates with Edward. Each was amazing in its own way because I got to be with him. And yeah, I can't believe I thought that either. But it was the truth. Whether we actually went out and did something or stayed in, it was great. He was great. More like unbe-fucking-lievable, actually.

So, when he called and asked if I wanted to have lunch with him at the hospital, I figured why not? I didn't expect to see him much over the next few days because his schedule was insane — filled with being on-call almost constantly and working doubles to cover for coworkers so he could call in favors — so I gladly took the opportunity to see him once more. Even if it was just for lunch.

I picked up the order he'd placed at a deli near the hospital and headed upstairs to the pediatrics ward to meet him — like he requested. Bright colors and painted animals filled the ward, making it seem a little less awful. It was awful, though. I passed a day room with bald kids, kids that were tethered to oxygen canisters, and kids that were confined to wheelchairs.

I didn't know how he saw this every day, to be honest.

Once I got to the nurses' station, I flashed the visitor's badge he'd left for me downstairs and asked for Edward. The young, cheerful nurse with kittens on her scrubs told me she'd page him. She was too cheerful, if you asked me. Too eager to please. And the second Edward came down the hall, I knew why. Sure, I'd seen him in scrubs before, but not the lab coat and stethoscope dangling from his neck.

Dirty thoughts filled my mind, as I was sure they'd filled the cheerful nurse's. I'd fuck him in an exam room. I'd fuck him in an office. I'd fuck him in the bathroom or even a closet. Hell, I'd fuck him anywhere right about now.

Also, that kind of rhymed. I Dr. Seuss'd it.

"Nice teddy bear," I said as he came to stand before me.

He chuckled and pulled the stethoscope — with attached tiny stuffed animal — from his neck and tucked it into his lab coat pocket. "The kids love him," he said. "Admit it, you do too."

"Very adorable, Dr. Cullen."

"His name's Fred."

I laughed and he leaned down, kissing me in front of the cheerful nurse. When we parted and he thanked her, a little of that cheerfulness went away. I tried to feel bad, but I did not. Those dirty thoughts were mine to have, not hers.

"I want you to meet someone," he said, taking the bag of food from me and then clasping his hand around mine. "I think you'll like her."

"Her, huh?"

He nodded, smiling. "I should probably warn you that I've set you up."

My brow rose as he led me down the hall and through another corridor — the pediatric ICU. "Oh, really?"

We stopped between glass doors in the middle of the hallway and he looked down at me — almost as if he were afraid. "Remember when I told you how I was amazed by you because your books have made my patient smile?

"Yes . . ." I said slowly. "I take it I'm meeting her?"

Now, that part had me a little on edge. I didn't promote my books extensively in person because I hated attention. And not the way that most women say they hate attention but really love it. No, I really hated. My palms would sweat, heart would race, I'd throw up, and there was a time or two I'd had panic attacks when faced with a large crowd at a book signing. I didn't do many, so they were usually packed and everything was done in a blur. I'd answer a few of the usual questions, read a passage while trying not to throw up, and sign book after book while readers told me they loved my work. It was nerve wracking, to be honest. WebMD called it social anxiety disorder, and I was pretty sure the website was spot on with that one — unlike all the times I'd had cancer.

"She loves you and your books," he said. "She's reread them time and time again, though I'm pretty sure the one with the girl with the tragic past is her favorite. She loves how . . . Macy?" he asked and I nodded. "Yeah, she loves how Macy overcame odds and opened herself up to love. I won't be repeating her thoughts on the guy, though. It was a little awkward for me."

I laughed softly as my lips curled into a smile. He spoke of Willow Falls, which was actually my first book and favorite, too. I'd started writing it in high school. It was . . . extremely close to my heart. Even though the protagonist had this horrible past — which included her mother's death — she was strong and learned to live again. The hot guy wasn't so much the main part of the story, but he certainly did add to it.

"I'm sure she mentioned the accidental shower scene?"

For once, it wasn't my cheeks that turned red. "Yes, and like I said, awkward. I still see her as the nine year old who wouldn't let go of her stuffed animal before surgery."

"So . . . who is she?"

"Her name's Vanessa. She's been my patient since I was a resident. She was born with a heart condition — a very serious one. She had a few surgeries when she was little, but as she got older, her heart became weaker and weaker. She's fifteen now and needs a heart transplant. Your books make her happy, Bella. I'm sure I'm way out of line by asking this, but I was hoping you'd meet her?"

"You already told her I was coming, didn't you?"

He nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You'll make up for lying to get me here, but I guess we should stop wasting time and go see her, huh?"

His lips curled into a smile. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." I nodded, though I was a little — actually a hell of a lot — nervous. I'd never been one-on-one with a fan before, but from the way he spoke of this girl, she seemed like someone I needed to meet.

Hopefully I wouldn't throw up on her.

Grinning, he took my hand again and led me a little further down the hall. We stopped in front of a room, and he slid open the door. Like the rest of the ward, this room was painted a bright color and had cutesy, childish decals on the glass window and door leading into it. It made the terrifying room with machines that beeped and buzzed a little less terrifying.

There was a single bed with a teenage girl in it.

She had an oxygen tube running in front of her nose, heart monitor, and multiple IVs going into her arms, as well as a tube coming out from under the flowery comforter that hooked up to a machine that probably did something very important, though I didn't know what. Her auburn hair was pulled into a ponytail and though she looked quite ill, it was obvious she was a pretty girl.

"Bella, this is Vanessa," Edward said, smiling brightly. You know, the ridiculously handsome smile. "I call her Ness because she hates it.

She rolled her eyes, giggling lightly. "I secretly love it, but don't tell him that."

"I can keep a secret," I pretended to whisper back.

"I can't believe this is her, Dr. Cullen," she said, eying me with a smile. "You're Marie Isabelle."

Edward's lips pressed against my temple as I nodded. "It's really great to meet you, Vanessa. You can call me Bella."

Edward pulled two chairs up to her bed and I sat down next to her as he got our food out. Now I understood the single order of soup he'd requested. She seemed to light up even more when he passed it to her.

"Stays between us, got it?" he asked, winking.

"I like it when he spoils me," she said to me. "My parents follow his and my transplant team's orders to a tee, and yet he's the one that breaks them."

"I'm a rebel," he chuckled, lifting his sandwich.

"Breaking all the rules, huh?" I smirked.

He shrugged. "What can I say? I'm awesome."

"So, I promised Dr. Cullen that I wouldn't tell anyone you came to visit me," Ness said. "I know you're really private. Then again, who would I tell? He has me locked in here until I get a transplant. I kind of want to shout it from the roof, though, because you have no idea how excited I am that the Marie Isabelle is currently sitting next to me."

She bounced a little in the bed, and I couldn't help but laugh some. The fact that she was this excited to meet me rendered me speechless. It seemed . . . insane. Not that she was insane, but that she adored my books so much was.

"Do you . . . want me to sign your books?"

She nodded and reached over to the table beside her bed to grab Willow Falls off of it. "Can I ask you some questions too? If you say no, I totally understand. I think I have a marker around here. Can someone grab that bag for me?" She pointed across the room to the counter, and Edward stood up to retrieve it.

"Yeah, you can ask anything you'd like," I said as Edward handed her the bag and she dug through it for a sharpie marker.

I opened my own book, going to the second page where the title was. I signed just as I always had, but I did something different for her. I signed both names. I'd always kept these two sides of myself separate because I was afraid . . . because I didn't know how not to, but she deserved more. For some unknown reason, I wanted her to know the real person behind the books.

"This is the coolest thing ever," she said as I laughed. "Oh my God. Okay. Questions. I just have so many!"

"Fire away."

And she did. She spoke quickly and frantically between taking a few moments to breathe slowly and asked me some questions I'd never heard before. They were more complex than the ones at Q&As because those were so rushed. She made me think back to when I wrote Macy's character and I was more honest with her than I'd ever been in any interview.

I told her the reason Macy's mother died, which only Alice and my dad knew.

"My own mom died when I was little," I said as my emotions sprung up out of nowhere. I was literally about in tears, just remembering how I'd used my own experience to write that. "I guess this book was some kind of strange therapy. It . . . helped to write those emotions down. My emotions, through Macy."

"I know it was early in the book and it wasn't even like I'd gotten to know her character yet, but I cried — and still cry — when I read about her finding her mother that morning. I'm sure it sounds weird and I might be out of line, but knowing that about you . . . It makes me understand why that was so devastating to me. The way you wrote it . . . I don't even have words. I felt her pain. I'm really sorry for your loss."

I wiped my tears and forced a smile. "Thank you, Ness."

"So, I have to ask. Did you base Brandon off of anyone? He was so supportive and loving with Macy. He was her friend for what, three years before she really let him in? I kind of love him. He's my fictional character boyfriend."

I laughed softly, nodding. "Mine too, but no, he's entirely made up."

For the next hour, she kept asking questions about the book. It was an unbelievable experience to listen to her talk about my books — to think of them so highly. Of course I'd — for lack of a better word — fangirled over authors before, but it was so insane to have someone do it to me. Sure, at signings people had been excited, but she was on an entirely different — yet awesome — level. I couldn't comprehend it, but it made me incredibly happy.

"You know, reading is how I escape all of this," she said, looking around the room. "It's this made up world that isn't always happy, but always — well, usually and at least with your books — ends happy. It's hopeful. I just want you to know that your books bring me more happiness than I can explain."

I smiled, trying to figure out what the hell I could say back to that. I wrote because I loved it, but of course I also hoped others would, too. I never imagined my own books could be that to someone, like other books had been for me. It was an indescribable, fantastic feeling. "It means so incredibly much to me that you love these books this much," I said. "I'm so glad they make you happy. Thank you for that because knowing it makes me happier than I can express."

"Ladies, unfortunately my lunch break is long over and you need to get some rest, Ness," Edward said. He'd sat there silently, listening to us talk with that handsome smile evident on his face. I'd made sure to look at him. I mean, it was actually just amazing that I'd taken my eyes off of him in the first place.

The lab coat really did things to me.

Totally inappropriate things that I shouldn't have been thinking about in front of a kid, but yeah. Things.

"I'm okay," Ness said. "You can go back to work and Bella can stay a little longer, please? I'm nowhere near done. We haven't even talked about The Secret Meadow yet!"

"You need to rest," he repeated. "Doctor's orders and whatnot. Maybe Bella wouldn't mind coming back?"

"I'd love to," I said. "Maybe next time I can bring my laptop and give you a peek at what I've been working on."

Her eyes widened as she grinned. "You're writing another book!"

I shrugged. "Kind of. The characters are a little older, though."

"Hello, does it look like I care?" She laughed. "I'd read your grocery list."

"Great, so it's settled," Edward said, standing up and straightening out the hot-as-fuck lab coat. "I'll be in to check on your during afternoon rounds, all right?"

She nodded, and I moved back as he leaned in to embrace her. He seemed like he was awfully close to her — closer than just the average doctor-patient relationship — and that had me curious.

. . . . .

After saying our goodbyes to Ness, Edward checked his watch and said he had a little big of time before a surgery, so he walked me downstairs.

"I wish I could say that I'm sorry for forcing you into this, but I can't," he said as we stood on the sidewalk. "She hasn't been that happy in so long. Probably since her team and I decided she needed to remain in the hospital."

"She's a great kid." I smiled. "Don't be sorry because I really enjoyed it. You gave me an experience I've never had, and it was incredible to meet her. Thank you for setting me up, just let me know next time, got it? I don't do well with surprises."

He chuckled. "You did look like a dear in headlights for a few minutes there. Why are you so private anyway? She said you rarely do any events."

I sighed. "My books are really close to my heart. I'm asked about why I wrote certain things, and I'm terrified to admit it. I'm afraid of people seeing the real me, you know?"

He caressed my cheek with his lovely magical fingers. "You shouldn't be. The real you is amazing. And just so you know, I did want you to meet Ness to make her happy, but I also wanted you to meet her so you could see the happiness you bring people. What you did today . . . I loved seeing that side of you. I loved hearing you talk about that."

I smiled lightly. "I'm becoming more fond of you."

"Good," he said, lowering his lips to mine. "Because I'm very fond of you."

I wasn't exactly sure what Edward and I were, but right now that didn't matter. I was fond of him and he was fond of me. I enjoyed his conversation and sex, and he he loved seeing different sides of me.

I just wanted to pause time and never let this end.