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Stripped Desire — Chapter 22: Palette
"I think sometimes people really require the satisfaction of closure."
Diablo Cody.~
On Monday, I'm holding several newspapers that covered the dance recital, and there are about a dozen pictures of the girls and Rosalie. When I get to my office, the first thing I do is save the articles and photos in a folder.
One of the papers has a picture of Edward and me in the audience. We're both smiling and clapping, our bodies angled toward the other.
We look so happy.
Edward makes me happy.
More than anything, he makes me feel alive.
He makes me feel that the life I've lead up to this point, has been worth it.
His words from last night have been messing with my head.
Part of me wants to go to the wedding with him and rub my happiness in everyone's face. The other part—the dominant one—wants to hide him somewhere safe where only I can find him.
My parents knowing about his existence is one thing, but taking him to them, to their turf, is something different. Deep down, I know they think I'm just having some sort of fun. That I'm still rebelling.
Showing how deep our connection is would be like giving them ammunition.
I'm not sure I'm willing to take that risk.
Rosalie—Rose as she has corrected me several times—calls me and invites me to lunch at the same time I reject Edward's fifth call of the day. I take her up on her offer.
We meet at a fast food chain restaurant. I accepted the invite so fast that I didn't even get a chance to suggest something else.
"It's my day of the week to indulge," she says, taking a bite out of a hamburger. "No one was going to take that away from me."
I laugh, eating a piece of chicken from my salad.
We make small talk while we eat. For the most part, we focus on the highs of the dance recital, including the amount of press it got.
"I don't why we got more press this year, but I'm thankful," she says.
I nod. "Of course."
"You and Edward made some of the pictures," she says.
"Yeah," I say, pushing my empty plate away. "Does he know you invited me to lunch?"
She shakes her head. "I wanted to force you to take me up on my offer for free dance lessons."
I give her a look. "I don't know."
"Twice a week," she says. "I'll teach you one routine."
"I'm not sure what that will accomplish."
She chuckles. "You can perform it for Edward. Alone. He would love it."
Her suggestion makes my skin heat in anticipated embarrassment, but the instincts-ruled part of me comes to life, imagining how his eyes will feel on me. He has the ability to make me feel undressed with a simple glance.
It would be such an experience.
"I'll be so bad at it," I say, pushing my lustful thoughts out of my head.
"More reasons to do it," she says in a serious tone. "Prove yourself wrong."
Rose, without knowing what she was doing, has said the magic words. Determination comes over me and I nod at her.
The smirk she gives me makes it look like maybe she knew all along.
After lunch, I take the afternoon off and go shopping for some dance clothes; feeling like a kid in a candy store. If Alice is surprised by my sudden absence, she hides it well. Then again, she's in post-proposal bliss.
I try some things on and buy others without care, forcing myself to be less rigid about this as Rosalie advised.
I can't help developing a system to organize the clothes when I get home, though. Just as I'm putting the last item away, Edward arrives.
"I'm an idiot," he says when I open the door.
I smile and let him intertwine our fingers. "Me too."
We walk in silence toward my bedroom and climb into bed together. He wraps his arms around me and kisses the back of my hair.
I relax against him. He lets his head fall forward and speaks to my shoulder.
"I'm jealous."
Tension threatens to get back into my body, but I tighten my hold on him instead.
"You have no reason to be jealous of Michael," I say, turning around to touch his face.
He sits up straight, putting as much distance between us as he can without letting go of me. "See, that's not how it feels," he starts. "This is the man who you chose to have a life with. You were going to run away with him. And now, he's the reason you've built walls around yourself. The mere mention of that wedding—hell, of his name— brings a frown to your face. From where I'm standing it looks as if you still care."
I stare at him for a moment, surprised by the insecure tone of his voice.
This subject is heavier than I thought it was. "Edward, the walls are a Swan thing. I was taught to build them. Michael had nothing to do with that. You're the one who's tearing them down." I give him a small smile, trying to coax one back.
It doesn't work.
"He's the man your family approves of," he says, sounding dejected. My heart aches, knowing he's right. Hating that I care, hating that it comes to this. My money intimidates Edward. I can see he doesn't want it to. I know he tries. But I know it's on his mind.
Michael could be anyone. It's what he represents that Edward's worried about. He will never be the kind of man my family talks about with pride.
I sigh. "Yes, he is."
He starts to move me out of his arms, but I take the opportunity to straddle him and take his face in my hands.
"I'm here, aren't I?" I say before kissing him.
"I'm here," he says, gripping my waist. "I see you."
"What do you see now?" I ask, pulling away before we get lost in our need.
Edward looks at me for a moment, in that eerie way that makes me feel naked. I'm about to prod him when he speaks, his voice strong. "I see a woman who needs the closure she didn't get."
"And you think going back to Virginia is the way?" I ask.
He nods.
"You weren't a little girl running away from her responsibilities. Go back. Show them you survived, and that no matter how many times you go there, you'll always choose to leave."
I contemplate his words, picking them apart as carefully as I can in a short time. He doesn't say anything, giving me time to get lost in my head.
There are a lot of reasons I could find to argue with Edward's logic, but the way he speaks, so trusting of my strength gives me courage.
From the moment he met me, he has believed I'm capable, daring me to prove it to be true.
For the second time today, I nod, determined to take on the challenge.
"Do you want to come with me?"
The end of the summer arrives in the blink of an eye and before I know it, I'm packing my bags to fly back home for the first time in two years.
Edward's been helping me with the flight arrangements, claiming I would be too tempted to cancel everything.
My hands shake as I close the zipper of my second suitcase.
Maybe he was right.
I'm not sure about wanting to see Michael, much less, about witnessing his wedding. But the feelings go so much deeper than that. Virginia represents confinement, restraint. I'm terrified that once I'm there, I won't be able to escape.
The happiest memories I have of my own home don't usually involve my family. I hadn't realized just how sad that sounds until today.
I'm not excited about going back to my childhood home the way most people are. I don't feel any longing about its smell, or my childhood bed, or a special toy.
When I think about the Swan house, I think about its pristine decor that tried too hard to look warm but ended up feeling fake, like a picture in a magazine instead of a real home.
Edward's eyes light up when he mentions Forks and its smallness. He recalls knowing everyone and being excited about lying down in a meadow. He complains about its weather, but he smiles at the memories.
He's dying to take me, to show me where he broke his leg when he was twelve, and the little store where he bought his first set of brushes.
The only thing I could show him in Virginia is the bench in my yard where I sat to read. If it's even still there. Knowing my mom's constant need of redecoration, I bet it isn't.
I sigh and grab the suitcases, rolling them to the living room where Edward is waiting.
"I'm done," I say, taking my purse from the coffee table. He puts down the book he's been reading.
"What's all that?" he asks as he stands.
"My luggage."
"That's not bus friendly," he says, eyeing them.
"They're not, but since we're not taking a bus, I don't see your point." I arch an eyebrow and push him toward the door. He's been teasing me for days about how we should make the trip on a bus because it would be fun and adventurous.
"I'm just saying, we still have time," he says, wrapping his arms around me.
"Do we have time to stay?" I ask leaning against him. He turns me around to face him, cupping my face in both of his hands.
"You can call it off, if that's what you want. Say the words and I'll cancel our flight." He stares at me and I know he means it.
I take a deep breath and shake my head.
If I don't go, I'll regret it.
It's time I face my fear.
"Let's go," I say and kiss his lips softly.
He holds me in place and kisses me back until I forget my name.
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