A/N: Thanks to my wonderful betas. We are on a roll and soon Edward's entire past will be revealed.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do however own "White Carpets and Wall Sconces".

Bella's Point of View

I turned around at the sound of the voice and raked my hair off of my face with one hand. "Jasper?" I took in the tall, blond form of Alice's boyfriend standing on the street in front of me, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his ski jacket, shoulders shrugged to try and keep the wind off of his ears.

"What on earth are you doing wandering the streets by yourself in the middle of the night?" He scuffed the toes of his shoes on the sidewalk but narrowed his eyes at me as though trying to figure out what I was thinking.

"I could ask you the same question," I stated firmly, wrapping my arms tighter around my torso, trying to keep warm. He rolled his eyes.

"You look like you're freezing. Are you going home?" I nodded mutely, still trying to snap myself out of my buzz. You'd think the cold would have helped. "Come on," he jabbed his head in the direction I'd just come from. "I'll give you a ride. My car's just around the corner."

I hesitated only for a moment. When I'd left the club I'd wanted to speak to Alice, however I realized, as I began to sober up, that it was half past midnight and she may not appreciate a late night guest; especially if that late night guest was me. I nodded and matched him step for step. We walked down the block and across the street in silence. He unlocked the car and motioned for me to get in before going around and sliding himself in the drivers' side. The car purred to life but he just sat there, head laid against the back of the seat, hands clasping the steering wheel with white knuckles.

"I'm glad I ran into you," he told me, his eyes still shut. "Alice called me earlier. She said you were over for dinner looking for Edward." He loosened his grip on the steering wheel. I hummed, letting him know I was still following. "He misses you, you know." He opened one eye and looked sideways at me. I almost laughed at his expression. Instead, my face broke into an awkward grimace. "What?" I shook my head.

"He left," I said quietly.

Jasper snorted indignantly. "Well, duh." He rolled his head so he was facing me. "Edward's trying to deal with all the shit that happened to him before he even came to Seattle. There are reasons for his commitment issues, Bella." He shifted the car into drive. "Where to?"

I gave him directions to my apartment and then turned to face him expectantly. "What do you know?" I tried to keep my voice even. Why did everyone seem to know what was going on with Edward, except for me? Why was I the one being left out of the loop? I didn't even think he liked Jasper, and now Jasper was having a warm and fuzzy conversation with me about Edward's feelings and issues.

"He's scared. But he doesn't hate you. He's angry with himself, and he's scared of the feelings he has. I can't even begin to imagine the things he's been through."

I narrowed my eyes, frustrated that Jasper wouldn't say more on the subject. "What do you know?" I asked again, doing my best not to inject my voice with venom. "I'm sick of all the damn secrets."

"I don't know much. And you should learn the details from Edward. If I hear anything from him I'll have Alice give you a call." He pulled the truck up in front of my building. "Hear him out. Don't give up on him yet, he's doing his best to salvage whatever is left." He squeezed my knee tightly, friendly. "Don't let him walk all over you either though. He owes you an apology and an explanation, so don't settle for anything less. He can be a prick sometimes, but you bring out the better side." He gave me his easy, friendly grin and I smiled back as best I could.

"Thanks for the ride," I told him, stepping out into the cold air again.

"No problem. I wasn't about to let you walk the Seattle streets alone. Edward would have my balls for that move."

I watched him drive away, wondering what that conversation really told me, and searching for my keys inside my clutch.

Edward's Point of View

"Basement, now bro." Emmett slung his arm over my shoulder before I was even in the door. He smirked at me and dragged me along, grabbing my bag from me and tossing it in the living room. "Unpack later, we need to talk."

I didn't say anything; just let him drag me down the stairs to the place where all important, manly conversations were held. Jasper was already lying on his stomach on the rug, chin in his hands, looking all fuckin' surfer frat boy. I shook my head and clacked my teeth together. I couldn't believe we were really trying to be friends with this fucker.

"Dude, how was Chicago?" he asked as I flopped down in my customary place on the recliner.

I shrugged. "Alright." I turned to Emmett. "Dad sends his best." My brother nodded in return. They both looked at me with somber expressions. "What is this? A fuckin' intervention?"

"You need to talk to Bella." It was just like Emmett to cut straight to the chase. I looked up at him and his face was dead serious, stony. I ran my fingers through my hair and gripped it tightly in my fists. I knew I needed to talk to Bella, I just didn't know how. "She's been given the run around for too long now. You love her, no?" He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Edward, you have to. She came to find you the day you left."

I choked. I didn't know what to say to that. Bella had been here, in my house, and I'd left. I'd run away. "She must think I hate her," I whispered, tugging harder on the locks of hair. I felt a couple of them rip out by the roots and I winced. "I fucked up big time, huh?"

I felt two sets of eyes on me and I met both faces with my own. "No shit man," Jasper drawled. "You told her to get the fuck out."

I groaned, knowing he was right. But she wanted to see me. "Why does she want to see me? I was such a prick."

Jasper shrugged again. "Maybe she loves you?"

I snorted. I couldn't help it. "Bella wouldn't love me. Bella doesn't know me." I rubbed my hands over my face and blinked my hot eyes furiously.

"So let her know you," Jasper said indifferently. I gulped. I knew it was what I had to do. Because I loved Bella too , and she needed to know. She deserved to know everything.

"Do it soon," Emmett told me. I nodded in agreement. "Tonight," he insisted with conviction. I nodded once.

"Tonight."

Esme had tidied my room and done my laundry. I hastily unpacked the bag I'd taken to Chicago and threw the contents in the laundry hamper in the closet. I needed to talk to Bella, but I had no idea how to go about it, or what to say, or how to say it. There was so much to cover. I wanted her to understand everything. I really did love her. If I was being honest with myself, I was in love with her. I, Edward Cullen, was in love with Bella Swan. I shook my head. "Fuck," I muttered. I sounded like a fucking girl, declaring myself like it was my god damned wedding day.

I went over to the desk and moved the picture frames out of the way until I found the small frame I was looking for. I held it close to my face, looking at it like it was the first time. I looked immeasurably happy, and so did she. I remembered the way my arm felt, slung around her shoulders. I was laughing at something one of my friends had said, and I was looking over her head, while she stood close to me, her smile just as genuine as mine. We had been so happy. In love and crazy, and she'd been able to make me laugh, and I was myself when I was with her.

I remembered her laugh; it would always be embedded somewhere in a corner of my brain. It was throaty, and loud, and she slapped her leg a bit like my grandfather did. It didn't match her at all, and that was part of why I loved it. Otherwise, Charlotte was the perfect lady, but when she laughed, all hell broke loose. I remembered her laugh, but I also remembered the sound of her scream. And although memories faded with time, that scream still haunted me. However, worse than the scream was the silence. And the beeping. Always the beeping. The beeping starred in my nightmares.

I reached my fingers out and touched the glass of the photo frame, remembering every line on her face, the slope of her nose, the curve of her chin. I closed my eyes, and I saw her, the same slope, the same curve, coloured with bruises and I felt my chest constrict. I opened my eyes, touched the frame once more, and set it down behind Alice's high school graduation picture. I went to my keyboard, and rifled through the sheet music until I found the piece I was looking for. I pulled out the file where I kept old music, and I filed it under 'C'. I wouldn't purge her from my life, she was such a huge part of who I was, but I would set the memories on a higher shelf. It was time to let go, and it was time to let myself live. I had lived a half life for too long, willing myself to be able to stay with her. But I realized that it wasn't possible. Sometimes stories come to an end, and then a new binding is cracked, the pen is set to a fresh page, and then that pen makes a mark, that begins a new story. And although the old story is forever a part of you, the new one begins to take shape, and begins to change you.

I was ready to begin the change. I was ready to begin the new story, and I would start tonight, with lattes and Bella, because everyone knows that Starbucks and stories go together. And I knew now, how Bella liked her latte.

Bella's Point of View

I'd been pouring over articles for hours, trying in vain to get some work done, and to avoid thinking about Edward. Jessica and Josh were in the other room, watching television, and remarkably, being very respectful of my need for quiet. I looked around my room, realizing that for the first time in months, it was truly clean. I'd been stressed and bored enough to tidy up.

I set to work, finishing up the paper I was trying to write, promising myself a walk by the harbour if I finished it, and let my fingers fly, working towards their goal.

"Jess," I said, shoving my feet into the ugly Ugg boots and zipping up my ski jacket. "I'm going out for a bit." I watched her wave her hand around, indicating she'd heard me, and I slipped out the door, pulling my hat over my ears, and wiggling my hands into my striped mittens, ready to face to cold, late February evening.

I had met Edward less than a month previously, and it amazed me how much had happened in that short time. How involved I had gotten, and how little I regretted any of it. How could I ever regret loving someone the way I loved Edward? I wondered, yet again, when I could talk to him, and if he would even want to talk to me; I prayed that if he did, he would fill me in on the happenings in his past. And I hoped beyond my wildest dreams, that he felt even a fraction of the love for me that I felt for him.

I couldn't imagine how I'd ever been content with my life before him. I had never loved, never had the desire to love. I'd dated, I'd lived, I had friends and family that I loved, but I had never found anyone, or even imagined finding anyone who made me feel as complete as Edward did. When I was with him, it was like the stars aligned, as corny as that sounded. I felt like no one and nothing could bother me.

The only thing about that feeling, about that love, was that it was a bit like a bubble. It grew and grew and it shone and floated and everything was perfect, until something from the outside world touched it, and then it popped, and everything inside that perfect little bubble, crashed back to earth with nothing to cushion the fall. We needed to find a way to make our bubble stronger, or else to incorporate more of the world into our bubble, to make it bigger, so that it would stretch and bend to accommodate life's obstacles. Small bubbles pop so quickly and easily. We needed to be in one of those big bubbles. The ones that little kids make when they dip their coat hangers in the paint trays and run, so the bubble stretches out for ages behind them, before letting go of the coat hanger and floating up and up and up, bending and swaying in the breeze, avoiding obstacles and slowly gliding through the meadow.

I shook my head free of my bubble analogy and picked up my pace across town towards the harbour. I wanted to think and look at boats and hear the hollow thud of my boots on the boardwalk. I found my favourite spot and leaned over the railing, tugging my hat further down on my head to break the cold. I wasn't sure how long I stood there, looking out at the dark, churning water, listening to the eerie silence before I heard footsteps. My heart skipped a beat as I thought back to the only person I ever imagined would ever frequent the harbour at night, but I shook my head and those thoughts away. It couldn't be. The odds of it were one in a million. And then I heard it, the voice I'd dreamed of hearing for what seemed like eternity. The soft, smooth voice that penetrated my every thought, even when I willed it not to.

"Extra hot, extra foam with a dash of nutmeg."