Chapter 7: How Quick the Sun Can Drop Away

*EPOV*

When we were little kids, all growing up together, we'd take turns picking out the games we'd play. The boys would undoubtedly want to play some sport, like tackle or baseball or something similar. Rosalie always wanted someone to push her on the swings or merry-go-round.

Bella would pick something she thought we'd all want to play, like a good 'ole game of defend the fort or hide and seek. She'd always been that way—more comfortable if the people around her were happy, no matter what she wanted.

Without fail, Alice always wanted to play something stupid that involved dressing up, like house or putting on an elaborate play with costumes and set props. Her absolute favorite thing to do was pretending to be a wedding coordinator. Leaving no detail overlooked, she'd even make sure we had fresh flowers in our lapels. Most of the time, she wanted us to draw names to decide who was going to get paired up.

Bella, however, would flat out refuse. No matter how much we would all try and chide her into agreeing with Alice so we could just get it the fuck over with and play something else, she wouldn't relent.

Sighing as I remembered when things were so much simpler, I thought about how adorable Bella always had been. Crossing her little arms across her chest and pouting out her lip, she'd assert that if she wasn't marrying me, she wasn't playing anymore.

Things certainly change when you grow up.

Glancing out the window, I watched as we flew past the buildings and the city, headed toward my parents' house. I just wanted to go home. Home to Bella. Home to my life before. Just home.

My dad kept looking over at me, concern etched into his features. My mother held my hand in hers and drew slow, soothing circles on my skin before I pulled away from her to cross my arms over my chest. Ever since we landed in Seattle, there seemed to be a quiet, oppressing silence that swirled around us. Sure that everyone thought that I was brooding or something, they were seemingly trying to give me space and not pressure me into talking. As much as I had missed them, I almost craved the solitude Alaska had provided me. It was like culture shock or too much to take in, being back here, having missed so much.

The real shock was Bella. My Bella. Married. To someone else.

I just didn't get it. We'd been everything to each other. Every first we'd ever experienced was together. My thoughts twisted and turned, causing even the air that I was breathing to feel acrid and stale. I clenched my hands into fists in an effort to keep them from shaking.

The crunch of gravel beneath the tires signaled our arrival. Unable to comprehend why they couldn't just bring me straight to her, I grudgingly got out of the car, pouting like a four-year-old.

So many moments of my childhood came rushing back to me as I walked up the steps of my parents' house: kissing Bella on the porch, playing football in the yard, almost fucking Bella in the tree house in the back, riding my bike down the long driveway, being nervous as I held Bella's hand in front of my parents for the first time. Almost every memory that I possessed was woven with memories of her.

How could this be happening?

Without a doubt, I was grateful to have my memory back, but the entire situation seemed almost unreal, and I felt more lost than I had even back in Talkeetna. Who the fuck was I if I wasn't the other half of Bella Swan? It was like I couldn't exist without her. I never had, even when we were kids and were supposed to be "just friends." Even when I couldn't remember her, I'd never really forgotten.

Could I go back to that? Being just friends? I wasn't sure if I knew how to do that. I'd spent more of my life being able to kiss her and hold her and do whateverthefuck I wanted with her than not.

My mom kissed my cheek before I trudged up the stairs to my old bedroom. As soon as I opened the door, my senses were assaulted by Bella. My knees felt weak as I glanced at the picture of her in high school on my old desk. Her cheerleading skirt was so fucking short. Momentarily allowing myself to remember what it felt like to run my hands beneath that skirt, I shook my head before scanning the rest of the room.

Glancing around, I sat on the slightly wrinkled bed, picking up a shirt I didn't recognize. Quickly realizing that it smelled familiar, like Bella, I brought it to my face and inhaled deeply. Her unmistakable scent floating through the air left me with no doubt that she had recently been sleeping in my room, in my bed. There was no way in Hell that my mom would have left it unattended for long.

I wondered briefly why Bella would do that. Perhaps she fought with Ja—I didn't even want to say the stupid fucker's name. I mean, was he serious?

Of course, I wanted her to be happy and not be alone forever, but fuck. He was my roommate in college and he knew how I felt about her. Dudes just shouldn't move in on your girl like that—no matter what the circumstances are.

Regardless of the reasons behind Bella sleeping over at my parents' house, in my fucking room, I knew I couldn't stay there, surrounded by her and reminding me of everything that we had, and what should be doing together.

What. The. Fuck?

I let out a frustrated growl a little too loudly as I opened the door of the guest room across the hall.

Everything was pink.

Not that just barely-almost-whitish-pink—really pink. With feathers and cutesy girl shit everywhere.

Striding into the room, I dropped my bag in front of the closet. There was no way I was even opening that door. Only God knew what other girly stuff was in there. I took in more of the décor: stuffed animals everywhere, a bookcase shaped like a huge doll house, coloring books and crayons on a round table by the window.

Neither of my siblings had a kid, did they? I felt like an ass as I realized that I'd never asked, but surely they would have mentioned it, right? It didn't make sense to me, but there must have been a kid coming over here. Judging by the massive amount of stuff lying around, it seemed to be a pretty regular occurrence.

Maybe my mother had been babysitting or something. That would be just like her—she was always trying to help people. Shrugging, I realized my dad had probably hired some nurse or receptionist or someone that needed help.

As I fell back onto the fluffy bed, I noticed a picture on the bedside table. I picked it up and realized it was a photograph of Bella and me. There were smudges and fingerprints all over it. It was gross and kind of endearing at the same time. Setting it back on the nightstand, I closed my eyes and tried to figure out how long they were all going to make me wait before going to see Bella.

Allowing my thoughts to wander, I thought about how strangely my family had been acting. Em would hardly look me in the eye, and Rosalie kept whispering to him in hushed, livid tones. My mother just kept asking me if I was alright, and my father kept looking at me with a wistful, almost-proud expression.

None of them had been acting as weird as Jasper, though. Almost as soon as we hit The Highlands, Jasper was pulling out his cell phone, calling Alice and telling her that he'd let her know when we left the house and that she could then leave Bella's to come meet up with my mother. It was so fucking confusing. Didn't Alice want to see me? And if she was with Bella already, why couldn't we all just go over there?

Hearing my mother call for me, I trekked back down the stairs and found her in the family room, nervously wringing her hands. Walking around the room, I found that it hardly looked any different. Though there were several new additions, the same pictures from my youth dotted the mantles and walls. Not wanting to chance catching one of Bella that was more recent, or worse—not alone, I stopped looking around and roughly tugged my hand through my hair in frustration.

She was clearly still in touch with them and still close to them if she had slept over here. I was glad that she was able to remain a part of their lives, but it made me jealous that they'd had time with her that I would never get back. Or have again.

I was stunned as I noticed Alice's antique dollhouse standing in the far corner of the room. Even if my mom was helping out by babysitting, there was no way in Hell that she had pulled that out for some kid she barely knew. It was over eighty-years-old, having belonged to my grandmother, and was almost priceless.

"Edward, sweetheart, are you ready to head over to Bel—, I mean, to the apartment?" She looked at me, her eyes filling with tears before clearing her throat and continuing. "Jasper's going to drive you and then I'll come pick you up." She paused. "Unless you want me to go with you? I wouldn't mind, baby."

The tears in her eyes spilled over as she stroked my cheek. When she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around me, I felt like a lost little boy. "Don't be too hard on her, honey. She's been through so much. More than you know."

"I won't. I just need to see her, Mom. I've been ready to go since before we got here. Since I woke up, really."

She hugged me closer to her as Jasper walked in, clapping me on the back. "You ready, man?" Nodding my head in his direction, I gave my mother a final hug before turning and stepping out of the room.

Jasper and I walked out to his car, my mind running a million miles a minute. I wondered if she would look any different, if she would feel different in my arms, if I would still feel the same inexplicable pull to her that I had always felt. I wondered if I would be able to resist her. I'd never been able to. Then again, I never had to try before. Biting back a chuckle, I thought about those fucking hot secretary glasses she got right before her birthday, and hoped she wouldn't still be wearing those.

Surely she was still beautiful—she always had been and I was sure our time apart hadn't changed that. I wondered what it would feel like to have my mouth on hers, how it would be to breathe her in—if she smelled the same. She did, I told myself; I knew that already. My room smelled just like her.

My fingers practically ached as I wondered what it would be like to touch her again and run my fingers through her hair. What if she had cut it? She had always let it grow long, knowing how much I loved it flowing down her back in thick, rich waves. I imagined her silky skin; it always felt so good under my fingertips. I hadn't ever been able to keep my hands off of her.

Was it wrong for me to have these thoughts about some other guy's wife?

Probably.

But she was mine first. My everything—then. And now? Could it be that way now? How could it ever be any other way?

Anger surged through me as I realized that she belonged to someone else. She had been with someone else. She had let some other guy do the same things to her body that I had. How could she do that? How could she promise me forever and then turn around and fucking marry some other guy?

Logically, I knew I was being stupid. I had been gone a long time, and Bella thought that I was dead. But she promised.

Was less than four years enough time to let her forget all that we had?

"E, man, you alright over there? You sure you're up for this?" Jasper's eyes left the road for a moment to look over at me. "Take a deep breath or something, you look like shit."

Shaking my head and inhaling slowly to calm myself, I closed my eyes. "I don't know. Yeah, I'm fucking fine." Silence passed for a moment before I opened my eyes and looked at him, muttering, "I just can't wait to see Bella. It won't be real until I do, you know?"

He nodded his head. "I don't know how you're handling this. It's got to be hard on you. I also know that it's been really hard for her, too. You almost had it easy, Edward—the not remembering. She's been dealing with losing you, not to mention her life as a m—as a w–without you."

"You sound like a pussy, man. Her life, huh?" I spat out, incensed. "Tell me about her, Jazz. What does she do? I mean, she's gotta have a job, right? I know she's got all my money and shit, but she'd never be one to sit around doing nothing."

He seemed to be deep in thought as he stammered, "Um, I think that'd be something for you to ask her, dude. We, uh, promised B we'd let her tell you."

"Tell me about her fucking job? Why? Did she open up a strip club or something? Is she that fucker's secretary? I mean, dude, she's got a master's degree in business and she's smart as fuck." My anger was quickly escalating at the lack of information I had. "Why can't you just tell me what she does? Something about her, anything, besides that she's fucking married. To a douchefuck."

Taking a deep breath, he seemed to be debating what to say to me. "She's a st—she doesn't work. And he treats her really well, Edward. He lo-"

"What?" I ground out, cutting him off. I didn't want to hear him tell me how much that fucker loved my girl. "Bella doesn't work? Oh, I get it. Fucking Bremner doesn't want her to show him up, right? Wants the little wife to stay home barefoot and—" my voice choked. "Jazz, God. She's not—she's not pregnant is she? That's why she didn't fly? Oh fuck man, I— Pull over, I think I'm gonna be sick." Bending down and putting my head between my knees, hoping I could keep it together, I knew I was close to snapping.

Gripping my shoulder firmly, he veered off to the side of the road. "Edward, it's okay. Take a deep breath. Calm the fuck down. I was with Bella last week and she was drinking. I'm pretty sure she's not pregnant." He paused before continuing, his voice exuding composure. "In fact, I think that's an issue with them. She's not ready. Trust me; she didn't fly out to you because she can't get on a fucking plane without completely losing her shit, asshole."

I took a few more deep breaths, trying to abate the nausea that overtook me. "Sorry man."

Jasper looked over at me one more time, his face full of apprehension, before pulling the car back out onto the road. The rest of our trip passed by in stilted silence.

X-X-X-X-X

Stepping into the apartment I shared with Bella was like stepping back in time; it looked exactly the same. So many thoughts crossed my mind as our eyes connected across the room.

Love. The image of her at sixteen years old, pretty and sweet as she sat next to me in a darkened theater for our first date alone.

Lust. A drunken romp in the backyard of a fraternity house, while the party raged on inside. Warm, alcohol flavored breath whispering across slick skin, my gentle reminders to hush ignored as she rode me.

Lament. The imagined vision of her walking down an aisle toward someone—not me— beautiful and perfect, and no longer mine.

Somehow, I didn't care that she belonged to anyone else, because suddenly crossing the room and touching her was no longer optional. I knew that I wouldn't feel whole until she was in my arms.

I was right—about everything.

She still fit there perfectly. She was still beautiful. The magnetic pull that we had always felt was still in full force.

As if I could ever doubt it.

Holding her tightly to me, I swayed us back and forth and whispered to her. Home. Finally home. In some ways, standing there with her felt like forever, but in others it was just a millisecond. I didn't want to leave, and she didn't seem to want to let me.

When she started to say something, I stopped her. I figured she was going to justify all of the reasons that she got married, and my brain got all that. My heart, however, needed more time. I didn't want to hear the excuses; I just wanted to pretend for a little while.

I almost lost it when she asked me if I wanted lunch. While it was sweet that she thought to cook for me, I immediately thought of how many times she made him lunch and then I thought about what it was like with her standing in that very spot.

Had she fucked him on that kitchen counter, too?

Fighting the urge to rage at her, I just pulled her closer to me as she clutched me tighter in response. After awhile, she started to tell me that I had always been her everything and I just didn't get it. Didn't she know it would always be like that with us? Then she said something fucked up about having someone else to live for, and I had to fight the feelings that made me want to push her away. But she started crying, and I couldn't—I refused to—hurt her, and instead held her closer and told her everything would be okay, even though I had no fucking idea how it ever would be okay again.

Then I Iooked into her eyes and just allowed myself to feel.

The same pull, always there when it came to us. It felt right.

How could it be wrong?

Right or wrong be damned. There was no way in fuck that I was leaving this room without feeling her mouth on mine. I had to make her see that even though she couldn't wait for me, I would always wait for her. She needed to know how I felt—how I'd always feel.

Tilting her head up to meet mine, I brushed my lips back and forth over hers. Testing my control, I paused and took in the enormity of this moment. She knew I was going to kiss her. And she was going to let me.

She wanted it.

Just as I started to lean further into her and press my lips more firmly to hers, I heard it.

And felt it.

"Mommy!" Followed by the weight of a little person's arms being thrown around Bella's legs.

Her mother's legs.

Bella was…a mom?

The room was spinning as I stumbled back slightly and looked into Bella's eyes. How could she?

There was no coming back from this. I knew it was wrong of me to want another guy's wife. I also knew there was no way in Hell I would break up her family, no matter how much I wanted her. Recognizing the look of shock in Bella's face, I took one more look into her eyes before pulling away from her and running out the door.

I hadn't even looked down at her child. I couldn't. I knew I'd have to see the kid eventually, but I just couldn't handle looking at the physical manifestation of Bella belonging to someone else, loving someone else, fucking someone else.

My God. What the fuck was I going to do now?

My mother exchanged a few words with Bella before saying in a loud voice, "Bye Gracie. See you later, sweetie."

Gracie?

Although it was totally irrational, I couldn't help but feel that my mother had been treacherous in all of this. She should've fucking told me. They all should have. I didn't give a fuck that Bella asked them not to-they shouldn't have sent me in there blind like that. Jasper, promising me that Bella wasn't pregnant now… when he knew that she had been before.

Even my own mother had fucked me over.

Suddenly, it all made sense. My mother had been keeping her. That's what all the pink shit was in our guest room. Bella's kid's stuff. Thinking back to that shirt in my room, I wondered if my mother had let all of them sleep over. In my fucking room.

It was as if the sun had been ripped from my sky. Everything felt black. Bella had been everything to me, and I thought that I'd been the same for her. Finally, I got it. I was wrong.

Anger coursed through me and I wanted to fucking break something as I sat in the car like a goddamned teenager, waiting for my mom to drive me home. Deciding not to wait anymore, I got out of the car and started walking, in the rain.

A few hours later, I arrived back at my parents' house, dripping wet. I didn't have a key, so I had to ring the doorbell like a motherfucking outsider. That's how I felt—like an outsider in my own family. Bella had replaced me with some other guy, and all of my family accepted it. My brother, my sister, everyone. Even my own mother.

When my dad opened the door, a forlorn look on his face, I walked right past him and toward the stairs.

"Please, son. We need to talk about this," he pleaded with me.

Shaking my head, I didn't even turn around and look at him as I trudged up the stairs to my room. Pausing, I laid my hand on the door and fought to keep my composure. Knowing I wasn't ready to be flooded with the memories of all the shit we had done in that room, I turned and entered the pink room. Bella's kid's room.

Fuck.

I took a quick shower and dried off before throwing myself down on the bed. All this girly shit needed to go. I wanted my room back, but knew I wouldn't be able to go back in there. I was fucked.

My mind was racing; Bella was a mom. Ever since I'd gotten my memory back, all I could think about was getting back to her. Even after I found out she was married, it all felt like I was caught somewhere in between reality and some alternate universe.

This could not be happening.

I'd been waiting, for years it felt. Waiting to see her. Waiting to hold her. Waiting to kiss her. Then, like some sick cliché, I heard the pitter-patter of little feet, and it was over.

Over.

There was a soft knock on the door, followed by my mother's worried voice. "Sweetheart, please, just let me talk to you for a moment. There's something you need to hear."

What could she possibly have to say to me?

Silently, I got up and opened the door before plodding back over to the bed and throwing myself down. She sat at the edge of the bed holding a frayed tissue in her shaking hands.

Deciding I needed to get this over with, I said, "Mom, look. I get it. I was dead. She moved on." I rolled my eyes before continuing. "I bet she's a great mother, I really do. And I am serious—I really want her to just be happy." I stopped, trying to maintain composure around the woman who had raised me. "I just don't get why she can't be happy with me. Why she moved on so quickly."

She opened her mouth to speak, but I held my hand up, wordlessly begging her to let me get it out. She nodded at me, assuring that she'd let me finish.

"Really, I'll be alright. I just…I can't imagine Bella with anyone else. This whole time since you told me, I've been deluding myself. Thinking that we could possibly still figure out a way to make this work. She made a mistake marrying some other guy, and I was determined to make her see that. But now…Mom," I paused, taking a deep breath.

"Edward, wait…"

Shaking my head, I interrupted her again. "I know it's wrong that I thought like that. It's just…" I paused, trying to form the words to explain the way I felt. Like my entire life was over.

Like I was utterly defeated.

My mother pulled me toward her, rustling my hair slightly and cocooning me in her arms. As I fought to keep the tears from coming, she pulled my head down into her lap and trailed comforting fingers through my hair and along my cheekbones, a gesture she'd done a million times before.

I was overwhelmed.

I was miserable.

But most of all, I was pissed.

"Mom, look, I need to ask you something."

"Anything, Edward. What would you like to know?"

"No, not something I want to know." I shook my head. "I mean, I probably will want to know some stuff, but I can't—I just…not right now. I don't want you to let Bella come over here for awhile. I don't want you to bring her kid around me. Please, Mom, until I can…" I trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

Until I could what?

Get used to seeing Bella walking around with some other guy's kid?

I'd never fucking get used to that.

But there was no way that I was going to sit around and watch her be happy and in love with that fucker and their kid. I knew my limits. And this was it.

"Sweetheart," my mother's voice interrupted my thoughts, "I love you with everything that I am, but please don't ask me to do that. I can't—"

"What? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Just then, my father popped in the room with a large frame behind his back. "Son, watch your language."

"Did you just hear what she said to me? I asked her not to let Bella and her—her—well, not to let Bella come over for awhile and she refused."

"Calm down," my father said, his voice stern and reproachful. "You don't have all the facts. Sit down, please," he implored.

I hadn't realized I was standing, practically towering over my mother. "I'm sorry, I just—what the Hell, Mom?"

She looked from me to my father and gave him a small nod. "Sweetheart, there's something you need to see before you say another word to either of us." She thrust the frame my father had been holding into my hands and gestured to the photograph it encased.

The breath left my body, almost suffocating me. My chest tightened as I staggered, almost losing my balance, before sinking to my knees on the floor. My fingertips traced the face of the little girl in the picture. Feeling almost lightheaded, I couldn't process what I was looking at.

Bright green eyes peered back at me, a shy smile on her little face. The same smile I'd loved for most of my life. She was beautiful, absolutely perfect. Wild curls, the shade a cross between a penny and chocolate, curled around her face, haphazard and familiar.

Looking up at my parents for guidance, I opened and closed my mouth several times in an attempt to voice the thoughts that were swirling in my head.

How could this be? How could this have happened?

"Oh my God. She looks just like me."