/N: Thanks to my awesome betas! Again, I'm so sorry for the wait. I'm in big trouble. Promises of an update a week, and it's been weeks.
Disclaimer: All recognizable Twilight characters belong to S. Meyer. I however own "White Carpets and Wall Sconces."

Bella's Point of View

I wondered how long Edward would be in Chicago. I felt both better and worse after my talk with Emmett. On one hand I understood more why Edward had been so upset with me, but on the other hand I wondered how I was supposed to have known all of that if he never told me.

I pulled my truck up to the curb and cut the engine; grabbing my purse as I climbed out and headed back to the apartment.

"Hey!" Jessica's voice came from somewhere near her bedroom. "Where've you been?" She came out of her room clad in a black halter dress and pink, fluffy slippers, trying to fiddle an earring into the hole in her left ear.

I thought fast. I wasn't sure quite how much I wanted Jess to know just yet so I settled for vague. "I had to meet someone," I said quickly.

"Oh," she said with a small smile. "Glad to see you up and about. Want to come out? We're going to that new club down town." She looked at me so hopefully. "We can wait a bit. Everyone should be here any minute, but we'll just crack open a bottle of wine while you get ready."

I thought about it. On one hand, I had no real desire to go out and see people and dance badly, but on the other hand, I missed my friends and I needed to do something to pass the time other than sitting at home wondering when Edward was coming back. "Sure," I finally said. "But I'm not dancing," I added as a side note. Jess smiled brightly. It wasn't hard to make her happy.

"Get ready," she told me, pushing me towards the bathroom and closing the door behind me.

I heard the voices of people filling our tiny apartment as I got out of the shower and toweled my hair. People laughing and talking and having a good time. I was going to have to try to smile and act normal tonight. I wondered if I could do it. I dried my hair and straightened it, having no time to do anything more elaborate, and wrapped myself in my fluffy robe and headed for my room.

"Hey Bella, I'm not sure that's dress code," Mike joked, a big smile on his face. Mike, like Jessica was easy to please. I forced myself to laugh and the noise sounded foreign.

"No? I thought it accented my curves nicely," I replied sweetly, stepping into my room and closing the door. I leaned back against it, wondering what I was doing and if I could pull it off. I hadn't really seen my friends in weeks. Ever since I'd started seeing Edward. I realized that probably wasn't healthy.

I pushed myself away from the door and rifled through my closet, looking for something appropriate. I settled for dark wash jeans and an off the shoulder sweater from near the back of my closet, and fastened a set of large, gold hooped earrings in either ear. I rifled through the pile of shoes in my closet until I found a pair of black boots with a low heel and shoved my feet carelessly inside. I looked…presentable. It was the best I could do under the circumstances, so I fluffed my hair one last time, made a face at the mirror and headed out to the group chatting outside my bedroom door.

The club was crowded and I felt awkward and out of place. I sipped my drink thoughtfully as I stared at the crowded, sweaty dance floor from my place at one of the corner tables. I saw Angela attempting to dance with Ben, who had finally gotten a night off. Awkward was not a strong enough word to describe Ben; his dancing resembled a tall, thin duck.

I thought back to dancing awkwardly on the ferry with Edward. How had everything gone so wrong so quickly?

"Bella?" Angela sat down beside me once she'd had her feet stepped on one too many times. She put her mouth close to my ear so I could hear her without shouting. "If you need to talk about something, I'm here. And I'm danced out." She leaned back and grinned sheepishly at me. I laughed, for real this time. I couldn't help it.

Ben came over and handed her a drink before retreating to talk to the guys, obviously getting the hint that Angela and I were talking.

"He's gone to Chicago," I told her over the noise of the club. "I feel a bit stupid just sitting and waiting for him though." I took a sip of my drink, letting my eyes wander around the crowded building. "I feel a bit pathetic," I admitted, looking at the table and tracing patterns on the shiny surface with the pad of my finger. "I'm not that girl, you know? The one that sits, pining." I bit my lip and looked at my friend's sympathetic face.

"Why are you, then?" We were still sitting close so we didn't have to shout, locked in our own little Angela-Bella bubble.

I shrugged my shoulders and avoided her eyes. I could practically feel her eyebrows shoot up. She didn't believe me and I knew it. "He's different," I finally said, quickly, hoping we could skirt over the issue. She sat patiently, waiting. "I told you already," I said with a sigh. "I'm in love with him."

"No you didn't," Angela argued. I rolled my eyes at her. Obviously I had told her that before. I thought Angela was a good listener. "You said you loved him." I gave her a quizzical look. "If you're in love with him, that's different. It's a different feeling all together." She patted my hand soothingly and I tipped the rest of my fruity cocktail down my throat.

Angela looked up and caught Ben's eye. She motioned toward my empty glass and I saw the awkward ducky walk of Ben twist his way through the crowd towards the bar again. "He really hates crowds," Angela said with a wry smile. "He always looks so awkward and out of place. He's much more comfortable in the library." She shook her head and tutted lovingly. "So am I, to be honest. But sometimes social situations are unavoidable." She looked back at me and tapped her finger nails on the table top. "So, what are you going to do?"

"What are my options? I mean, what if he never even wants to see me again? I don't have any idea what he is thinking."

Angela laughed darkly and shook her head. "That's the beauty of relationships, Bells. You haven't got a clue. But if you know him well you have some idea of cause and effect. You should know that if you do something, he should counter act with something else. You should be able to gauge the counter action."

"That's the thing. I have no idea. He reacts totally different than I expect him to."

Ben came over with drinks for Angela and I, and I smiled my thanks and took mine, taking a long drink before setting it down and spinning it between my fingers.

"Have you talked to anyone else? About how he reacted, I mean?" She dipped her finger in her drink and swirled it slowly before popping the end of her finger in her mouth and sucking off whatever concoction was in her glass. I smirked at her seemingly innocent gesture and she gave me a funny look. Angela was so naïve.

I relayed the conversation I'd had with Emmett regarding Edward's privacy and the diary analogy and she pursed her lips in thought, nodding. I also told her about the tense exchange I'd had with Alice to which her reaction was much more animated. Her eyes flashed with anger and she slammed her hand down on the table with more force than I knew she possessed.

"She blamed you?" Her hiss was barely audible over the pounding bass, but the message was clear. Angela and Alice were not on the same page. I shrugged and swirled my drink carefully so as not to spill the liquid gold. Angela rolled her eyes and pulled my face so I was looking her in the eye. "Don't you dare take this lying down. This was not your fault." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Not all your fault, anyway. The blame needs to be shared and the precious Cullen's cannot go protecting the poor baby forever. He needs to grow the heck up. This is crap."

It was as close as Angela would ever come to profanity and I knew she had to be pretty pissed off. I supposed on some level she was right. I shouldn't have to shoulder all of the blame. Some of it, definitely. All of it, definitely not. But it didn't change the way I felt. I was in love with Edward, and I was terrified he didn't love me back, wouldn't want me back.

"I think I need to go," I told Angela, draining my glass and rising from the table. "I'll catch a cab. There is something I need to do." She nodded mutely and watched me weave my way across the crowded floor, praying to the good lord that none of my other friends saw me leave.

I got my coat and hurried out the main entrance into the cold, February night, shoving my hands in my pockets and hunching my back to the biting wind. I scuffed my boots against the sidewalk, slowly, and somewhat drunkenly making my way toward my apartment, all thoughts of taxis forgotten. I peeked up through my hair as I stepped out of the way of a pair of feet coming towards me on the icy sidewalk.

I continued on my way, head down against the wind, but turned quickly at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Bella?"

Edward's Point of View

I wasn't sure how long I knelt in the snow where our log should have been. Time seemed to pass both too quickly and too slowly in that spot. My face felt hot and sticky in my gloved hands, and as soon as the cold, Illinois wind hit it, I felt it freeze. My face was caked in tears. I could barely see through my swollen eyelids as I raised myself from the wet ground. I rubbed my fingers across my forehead agitatedly and pinched the bridge of my nose. I felt empty. I was completely cried out and I was fucking glad that I was in a secluded woodlot somewhere on the outskirts of Chicago because there was no way in hell I would ever let anyone know I broke down like that over a god damned tree. No one understood the nature of the tree, the importance of the stupid, dead piece of wood. No one understood, not even her. Charlotte. She could never understand the symbolism behind the stupid log because she never had to hold onto the stupid log. She didn't have to hold onto anything. She got to take the easy road and I resented her for it. For not having to live with the loss. For not having to deal with the emotional agony. I sounded like a god forsaken girl the way I was talking about emotional agony. I was using the E word. I sounded a bit like Whitlock. But it was true. Emotionally it was agonizing, and then it was empty. That's why I started fucking other girls. Because I was empty, and I didn't want to ever be that empty again. So I let myself feel fulfilled for the short time I spent with an easy slut because when they left I didn't really feel like I'd had anything, so I couldn't feel the loss, but I still got to feel that completeness for a short time.

And then Bella came into my life. And she filled the empty places that none of the bed warmers ever could. She was the first one I showed any stupid emotion to, and she didn't run, screaming from me. She held me and comforted me and as much as it made me feel like a fucking pansy, I liked it. I craved her touch, the ways she felt, soft against my harder plains. Even her smell soothed me. She was, for all intents and purposes, perfect. She calmed me down, and she turned me on, and I fucked us up.

I knew, deep down, that she had meant no harm in her conquest. I wasn't willing to admit to anyone that I wasn't fucking furious, but I was willing to admit to myself that I had been wrong. I still couldn't shake that of all the music she attempted to play (attempt being the operative word) she chose the one piece closer to my cold heart than anything else. The piece said so much, or at least it did to me. I had poured my soul out into those notes during those long days and nights. I could tell, depending on the line, to this day, my mood, how much sleep I had had, even specific thoughts during that time period. I felt as though Bella had taken me back there again. And I didn't want to feel the cold, hard fear that ripped through me, even during that first, plinking line. I never wanted to feel that way again.

And yet, I kept the piece. I never played it. The piece had only been played in its entirety once. It was never played, and it was never spoken of. A diary that was kept tightly locked. Until Valentines night. Sometimes I looked at it. I knew the notes by heart, how it should sound, every crescendo and every tempo change. That piece of music had been my life for those long, seemingly unending weeks.

Somehow, I made it back to my mother's car. I found myself sitting in the drivers' seat, staring at the steering wheel. I shook my head to clear it and shoved the key into the ignition, bringing the engine to life. I looked to the path, leading to the place where the tree had once laid, and said a silent goodbye, before shoving the car into reverse and speeding out of the parking lot, and staring straight ahead, not looking to either side as I came upon the curve and the deep drop into the ravine that changed my life forever. I pressed my foot harder to the accelerator and impatiently waited to see the city lights come into view.

************************************************************************

My father was home, reheating lasagna that my mother had probably frozen in the event that she ever needed to go away. She knew Carlisle couldn't cook to save his life. I joined him in the kitchen and set the table, asking him about his day. He nodded, telling me that it was good, a typical Carlisle reply, as he watched the timer count down towards dinner. "Your mother would tell us to make a salad," he told me monotonously. I raised one eyebrow at his back.

"Do you want a salad?" Carlisle hated salad. So did I. Alice made me eat it anyway. He shook his head and I heard a light chuckle. "Me neither," I told him. I flopped down on one of the kitchen chairs and put my head in my hands. It had been a long day and I was tired. I was also ready to make arrangements to fly back to Seattle.

"You got everything done that you needed to accomplish?" He was still watching the damn timer, as though it would go faster under his watchful eye.

"Yeah," I said with a sigh. "You know they fucking cleared out all the old stumps and logs at the campground?" I tried to sound pissy, or even just surprised, but I knew I sounded sadder than I intended.

"Did they?" He sounded indifferent. Just like any normal person would. I just hummed in response. "Mr. and Mrs. Marquez were asking about you," he continued. I felt a lump rise in my throat. I fought it down.

"Were they?" I tried to mimic his tone.

"Maybe you could head over after dinner and see them. I know you'll be wanting to get back to Seattle soon." He looked away from his well watched timer to shoot me a pointed look.

I lowered my eyes to my knees. "Dad, I can't," I whispered, sounding defeated, even to myself. He only nodded and went back to watching the timer.

Dinner was a quiet affair, and shortly afterwards, Carlisle retreated to his study. I washed the dishes methodically and headed for my bedroom at the top of the stairs. I had never been more ready to get on an airplane again in my life.