This is it until Wednesdayy.

If you havent figured it out, the Cullens and Bella dont really play major roles. Sorry :[

I dont own anything but Samantha, Howard, and Abigail + plot

enjoyyy

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I sat in the old tree house Howard and I built when we were seven, with the help of our fathers. It was located in an Oak Tree that must have been at least two hundred years old behind my parents' house. It was now old and rickety; surprisingly the wood hadn't fully decayed yet. I bet Howard kept it up to par. Looking around I saw old toys, drawings, baseball cards, and books scattered all over. Names were carved in the wood; one of which caught my eye, it read: EAMJ + SMJ forever. I guess I must have carved that when I was courting Samantha. Groaning, I drifted into thought.

When I returned last night my family bombarded me with numerous questions. I refused to answer any of them. I was just overly exhausted from this whole experience. Rosalie overwhelmed me with statements and questions concerning how the "biggest fashion icon of our time" could be so spiteful and rude. I answered truthfully; she wasn't spiteful and rude, just hurt and betrayed by her husband.

Bella was the hard one, she wouldn't talk to me, she wouldn't allow me to enter the room, she wouldn't even look at me. I can see that she's hurting and it's breaking my heart to do this to her. But maybe I should end it. Maybe we'd be better off apart. Why am I thinking these thoughts, I silently screamed to myself.

I got off of the floor and climbed down the tree, trudging back to the house. I entered looking for Bella; I found her sitting at the dinning room table with Alice. She still wouldn't look at me. Sighing, I walked out of the house and down to the home I once shared with Samantha.

I hesitantly knocked on the door and heard a gentle come in from behind it. The smell of cherry pie filled my nostrils; normally I'd be disgusted by the smell, but these just triggered memories and smelled delicious. I followed the scent to the kitchen; once there I encountered an angel standing over a stove.

"It use to be your favorite," a soft angelic voice spoke. "It's fresh out of the oven, if you're willing to try some, be my guest, but I'm not helping getting it out of you system."

I chuckled.

"I figured you'd come by."

"Or did you just assume, Samantha," I retorted.

"No, I knew," she paused. "I have something for you."

She quickly walked up the stairs and returned a few minuets later with a leather cased book.

"It was your journal; I figured it'd help with the memories."

"Thank you," I graciously replied.

"So… How was your night?"

"I was relentlessly questioned. What about you?"

"I listened to a porn in the making in my own home," Samantha stated, flashing a grin.

Laughing I replied, "Howard and Abi?"

"How did you ever guess?"

"Oh I don't know. They seem like an energetic couple."

"That they are," She replied. "Edward, I really bothers me that you can't remember me."

"I'm deeply sorry; I just don't understand how to get those memories back."

"Are the emotions coming back? It seemed so yesterday…" she trailed off, taking a seat at the small table in the kitchen; motioning for me to sit to, which I did.

"I think so, I can't really explain it. It's like one moment I'm fine, the next all these feelings I have never experienced are overwhelming me and I lose control."

"Oh," she whispered, seemingly lost in thought. "What are you going to do? I mean I'm your wife, she's your fiancée."

"I honestly don't know," I sighed.

"Well, if she is truly what you want, I'll let you go. I love you enough to let you be happy. But trust me, if I feel she's not what makes you happy, I'm going to fight for you. You may not remember, but I always win."

Again I laughed "Well, let's just hope we don't end up having to come to a fight."

"Sure."

"Well, thank you for this journal, I think I'm going to leave and read it," I said.

"Goodbye, Edward. Oh and next time let yourself in," She demanded and tossed a key to me. "It was your old key."

"Ok. Goodbye."

I made my way back to the street, walking peacefully. Instead of going into my parents' home I climbed into the old tree house. There I opened the journal.

June 15th 1915

Today I saw Samantha in a new light, so radiant, so young, so lovely; she was no longer the debutante who secretly played baseball with the boys. She was now a young woman with poise and grace, why have I never noticed this in her? Oh my, I've been dreaming of her in ways that make me blush at the thought, things that are so down rightfully sinful. If my mother knew of these thoughts, she'd surly have Father Thompson here to perform an exorcism. I want her like I want no other, to do things that are wrong. I think I love her. But she's my best friend.

I read the thought of a fourteen year old me; I skipped ahead a few pages.

October 30th 1915

Tonight is mischief night- Howard and I just love this night. Sam has been nagging notto go out, something about how she can't have her fiancé getting arrested or hurt. She just worries too much. But then again, Abs but her foot down too, Howard and I will just sneak off later, after the damned gala the evil blonde is dragging me to. I do have to say that I may not be much use to night after I broke my foot yesterday jumping off of the roof with Howard. Sam, of course, worried and rushed me to the hospital. The new doctor, Dr. Cullen treated me. He was quite different; Sam said she had a weird vibe from him.

Again, I skipped some pages.

June 21st 1916

I'm getting married in 3 hours. I'm nervous to say the least. The wedding of the decade, it's been dubbed by the papers. Of coarse our parents went overboard on it. Sam and I just wanted a small, simple wedding. But that couldn't happen. Well wish me luck.

I stopped reading there; I figured I could read later. I justsighed and let random, youthful, memories flood my mind. I still am not remembering her, but I can't help but want to. I think, in these two short days, I've fallen in love.

Oooooh

Edward's thoughts. Trust, its gonna get steamy pretty darn soon.

Umm Im pretty darn sure they had baseball cards bak then.

So if ya liked or hated let me no.

BTW: Flames are welcome.

I like to read how much my lack of artistic capabilities suck from people who probably write about the same as me.

I brings humor to my life.

If the was mean sorryy

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