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Stripped Desire – Chapter 10: Gray
"Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it."
Mark Twain.~
For the first time in a while, I spend the weekend lying down in my bed, only getting out of it when it's obligatory.
On Sunday, I call my mother and listen to her tear me a new one for my behavior at dinner with Dad. I don't talk back. I just let her lecture me like the bratty kid she considers me to be.
When she gets all the words out of her system, we end our phone call.
My mood is not affected at all by her call.
My conversation with Edward repeats itself over and over in my head. I torture myself, willing my heart to get over it, convincing it that it doesn't hurt.
But it does hurt.
And then, I remember the way he held me while I cried, as if he wanted to hug the pain out of me.
I remember his apology.
He said the exact thing that could make me forgive him before he left.
I know you're more than what meets the eye.
I want to believe him even though I don't think I should.
In the end, I'm aware his words are meaningless. I'm the one giving them so much power.
It doesn't help me to feel better.
It's undeniable that I care.
When I get to my office on Monday, there's a floral arrangement on my desk. Hyacinths and violet flowers are fixed in the most delicate and elegant way. Their fragrance fills my office.
They're from Edward.
For some reason, it doesn't surprise me. As much as his words hurt, I can't deny the sincere look on his face when he apologized.
The card is handwritten and something tells me this is his writing, not something he asked the florist to write.
Isabella, words are not enough to say how sorry I am. E.C.
I set the card down and take a deep breath. It's getting harder for me to stay mad at him. He has already apologized more times than any person who has hurt me before.
Maybe he cares, too.
"Whoa, who sent these?" Alice asks when she enters my office.
I take off my scarf and my coat before answering. "Edward," I say. There's no way I could keep this hidden from her.
Her eyes get huge, and a grin takes over her face.
Before she asks, I tell her about every interaction I've had with him since the day we met. She listens to every word I say and doesn't reprimand me for not telling her earlier.
Alice is a good friend and it pains me that I haven't allowed myself to get closer to her.
"Wow," she says when I finish.
I nod at her. I can't believe so much has happened.
"Here I was hoping him walking you home would be groundbreaking and he's already seen you naked." She shakes her head and laughs.
"Alice." It's not funny.
She sees my pained expression and stops laughing.
"I think it's great," she says. There's not an ounce of humor on her face or the tone of her voice.
"What?"
"I think you posing for him is great."
We stay silent for a moment. I've been questioning my decision to pose for him since the moment I said yes. Our several altercations haven't helped, but they haven't been enough to make me regret it or to put a stop on them.
I don't know what's wrong with me.
"He thinks I'm a charity case, Al," I say. "Poor little rich girl, trapped in her own mind, self-conscious of her body, let's see what I can do with her."
"That's not what he thinks, Bella."
I shake my head at her.
"He thinks you're intelligent, beautiful and intriguing. That's what he said to Jasper before we invited you to lunch last week," she says. "And it's obvious he feels sorry for his words."
"He said that?" I ask, hating how much it matters that he did.
"Just talk to him, okay?" Alice says. I nod at her. "Now, no more boy talk—we have work to do."
After a busy Monday, I get home exhausted but determined to put the Edward-situation to rest.
Before texting him, I take a shower, eat dinner and arrange my schedule for the next day.
You're forgiven.
He replies right away.
Thank you.
I don't send anything back. There's nothing to say.
The next day, I leave my house at the usual time, telling myself that I'm strong enough to face him if he's at the subway.
But he isn't.
He is, however, waiting for me outside my office with a cup of coffee.
"I got your secretary to confess how you take your coffee. You would think she was guarding a national state secret," he says, taking my scarf from my hands before handing me the cup.
"Thank you," I say, meeting his eyes.
He follows me in, closing the door behind him while I settle at my desk. He sits down, folding and unfolding the scarf, waiting for me to pay attention to him.
I take several sips of my coffee after he mentions it will get cold.
"You could've asked me, you know?" I say, finally looking away from my computer. He arches an eyebrow in question. "About the coffee," I expand. "You didn't have to wrestle the information out of my secretary."
He looks down to his knee, where the scarf is resting. "I wanted to do something nice for you. I wanted to surprise you."
"Thank you," I say again.
Silence falls over us, and I try to do my job while stealing glances at him. He seems to be in a trance, staring at nothing while he twirls the ends of the scarf.
When the awkward atmosphere becomes too much for me to take, I mumble something about having a conference call.
He rushes to stand up, apologizing for interrupting, before making his way out.
He returns seconds later, breathless, to give me back my scarf.
The rest of the week goes by in the same manner. I find Edward waiting for me each day with a coffee in hand. He waits until I'm settled for the day, making small talk about the weather, before leaving.
It's strange, yet I become accustomed to his quiet presence with ease. There's something about him that soothes me. I don't know what it is, and I don't understand it. It contradicts with the way my heart beats faster when he's near.
On Friday, he's waiting for me with coffee and a brown bag with doughnuts.
I try telling him that I won't eat it, but he's not having it.
I take it from him with a huff before opening the door of my office. He takes a binder I'm carrying from my hands, to let me get out of my coat.
"I already forgave you, you know?" I say when he places the binder and coffee on my desk. "You don't have to keep doing this."
"What if I want to?" he asks, walking toward me.
I look away from him. "Why would you, though?"
He frowns.
"I'm trying to be respectful here, but that question makes me feel really sad for you," he says. I find his eyes, confused by his words. I'm about to talk, but he beats me to it. "Listen, if you want me to stop—"
"I don't."
He's more surprised than I am by my quick reaction.
We stare at each other for a moment before his face breaks into a huge smile. "Okay then," he says, bumping into Alice on his way out.
She closes the door behind me and gives me a knowing look.
"That's the fourth time this week," she says.
I sigh.
"I forgave him after the flowers. He claims this is not about that."
She nods. "It's not."
I change the subject.
She doesn't call me on it.
At the end of the day, as I walk toward Edward's house, the sky is dark, and a small drizzle starts to fall. I quicken my pace, but by the time I'm knocking on his door I'm soaking wet.
"It's raining," I say when he opens, looking like he just rolled out of the warmest bed.
He looks me up and down. "I can see that."
"We can't work on the painting today, can we?" I ask, removing the wet hair sticking to the side of my mouth.
He shakes his head.
"We'll just have to find something to do," he says opening the door wider to let me in.
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