A/N - Thanks for sticking with us for round 2!!

Stephanie Meyer owns all things Twilight. We don't. I do own 8 pairs of Converse, though. :-)

BPOV

**Eight Years Later**

Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep...SMACK!

My hand came down on my alarm clock with incredible force, and I groaned out loud.

Is it morning already?

I rolled over and cracked one eye open to see that my clock read 7:30am. Too early for someone that was up until 2:30am the night before. I groaned and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, before throwing my feet on the floor and looking at the new day dawning outside my window. Never in a million years did I think I would have a view like this; the New York City skyline. This apartment was by far the most extravagant thing I had ever purchased in my 26 years of life, but once I saw the wall of windows in my bedroom facing the skyline, I was a goner. I signed the contract the day my realtor showed it to me, as New York apartments could slip through your grasp in a matter of minutes.

I shuffled to my bathroom, squinting when the bright lights hit my eyes, and turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the room before stepping in. As I worked the shampoo through my long mahogany hair, I thought about the day ahead of me and the things I had to get accomplished at work. Work...my job...by far the best thing in my life. I was a Life & Style columnist for the New York Times. My love of writing accompanied by visiting all the hottest places in the greatest city in the world was bliss. If I could craft a dream job in my head, mine would be it. I was envied all over the office, and on occasion, if I was feeling nice, I would take one or two of my co-workers to do my 'research' with me.

I left rainy Seattle a year ago. When I got out of college, I did some small columns for Seattle newspapers and did some contract work for magazines for about three years. When I saw the position open up at the Times a year ago, I jumped at the chance to apply, and after a long, grueling interview process, I was offered the position. Saying goodbye to my mom and dad was tough, but I always tried my best to get to Washington at least on holidays, and they would come to see me once or twice a year. New York was home to me now. I loved the sights, the sounds, even the crowds and the cold weather. It helped, too, that my brother Emmett still lived in the city. He and his wife Rosalie got married 6 months ago. At first, Rose seemed like a stuck up bitch, and I cursed Emmett for dating her, but we quickly warmed up to each other, and are now like sisters. My brother was living his dream as a high school football coach; a job where he got to act like an overgrown teenager and still boss people around.

Rosalie lived for being in control. I could not see her in a job where she would have to answer to anybody. She was employed at Vogue Magazine as a Senior Fashion Editor. She had control of all of her junior editors and interns, and she got to work with clothes and accessories all day. We were all still young, hot, and not even close to reaching the peak of our lives. With all of my success, I still had one downfall; my love life. Sure, I dated on occasion, and Rose tried to set me up with a few "eligible bachelors" that she knew, but nothing clicked. Part of me started to think that there was something wrong with me. Was I too absorbed in my career? Was I not beautiful enough? Was I going to settle down before I turned 30? I was never one to worry about my biological clock, but I was 26 years old, and never had a long-term relationship. It didn't help that every time I talked to my mother, she was quizzing me about my dating life. She was more worried about me settling down than I was. Still though, the thought that I would never fall in love and get married took up residence in the back of my brain.

After my shower, I donned a black knee length pencil skirt and white button up top, dried my hair so it lay straight down my back, and applied some lip gloss and mascara, before grabbing my coffee and darting out the door for work. I smiled when I stepped out of the building and let the early morning sun hit my face. For early May, it was quite warm. The Times was about one mile from my apartment so I started on my daily walk, which took me right through the heart of the city. The city was such an interesting place to live; so different from Forks and Seattle. The number of different languages people spoke was astonishing. I loved to walk around and listen to them all. They were all so different, yet somehow, by the tone of their voices, you knew what emotions they were expressing. I was scared out of my mind for the first month that I was here. The sheer size of the city alone was terrifying, and I couldn't count the number of times I got on the wrong subway and ended up miles from where I was supposed to be.

When I reached the doors of my building, I took one more breath of fresh air, and walked through the circular doors into the grand lobby. My office was located on the third floor, tucked into a quiet corner, just the way I liked it. I loved my job because I had a lot of freedom. My boss, Angela, basically just tipped me off when something new opened or when there was a "must attend" event in the city, and looked over my columns before I submitted them.

Angela had become my first 'official' friend when I moved to New York and took the job at the Times. After my first day on the job, she had invited me out with several other co-workers for dinner and we had become quite close since then. She had also become a mentor to me, since my job had once been hers before she got promoted to department head.

As I sat at my desk, waiting for my computer to boot up, I looked up as she stuck her head in the door.

"Knock, knock," she said, smiling, "How did that event at The Met go last night?"

"Great," I said, waving her in. "Just another day on the job. The new Dali exhibit is fantastic. He was really something."

Angela laughed and sat down. "Bella, 'something' doesn't quite cover it. He was a little bit strange; a genius, but strange. There was a movie out that was supposed to be about his life, 'Little Ashes', have you seen it?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so. Doesn't sound familiar. Who's in it?"

"Rob something," Angela said "Patterson? Pattison? I'm not sure, but either way, his portrayal of Dali was brilliant. The guy on guy action?? Never thought I'd be saying this, but it was hotttt!"

I couldn't help but double over in laughter as she fanned herself before standing up.

"Okay, I gotta run, but we'll catch up later." she said as she walked out the door.

I opened my e-mail as she left my office and was hit by 40 unread messages in my inbox.

Damn, my co-workers were chatty last night. Doesn't anybody STOP working in this place? And why does everyone insist on hitting 'Reply All' when I'm not even involved in the conversation?

As I finished sorting through the junk e-mail, I heard the only voice I didn't want to hear outside of my doorway.

Jake.

I cringed, knowing what was coming. Jacob Black had been after me since the day I started at the Times. He was relentless in his pursuit and he never seemed to take a hint. Apparently the word 'no' wasn't in his vocabulary. He was vain and narcissistic and that thought that he was 'God's gift to women'. He was one of those really big muscle-bound-type of guys, with short, black hair, and russet colored skin. I was always tempted to tell him that anabolic steroids were really bad for him, because the muscles were just not attractive. He also had this habit of buying his shirts one size smaller than they should have been to keep his body on display even when he was clothed.

I silently prayed that he wouldn't come into my office; that he would just keep going on his merry way, but luck was not on my side that day.

He finished his conversation and came to my door, leaning his body against the door frame.

I need to call down to maintenance to see if they can install a lock on my door.

"Bella!" he called too loudly for only being 10 feet away from me. "I've got tickets to the Muse concert on Friday. Do you want to go with me?"

Oh hell to the no. Seriously, are there ANY brains up inside of that boy's head? C'mon, think of a good excuse.

"I...can't go," I paused, watching his reaction "I have plans already for Friday. Dinner...with...Emmett and his wife."

Good enough. At least I can actually pull it off if I have to.

He grimaced, and it looked like someone had kicked his puppy. "Are you ever going to let me take you out Bella?"

I sighed as I twirled my pen around in my hand "Look, Jake, I don't know if that's such a good idea. I mean, since we work together and everything. Things could get awkward."

His head dropped, and I felt a little bad. Not bad enough to go out with him, though. Suddenly, his head shot up. "Wait!" he said, pointing at me "You went on a date with Mike Newton down in graphics! Things are fine between you guys now."

I rolled my eyes. "Jake, that was ONE date. It hardly counts."

Jake laughed and shook his head "I'm going to keep trying, Bella. Someday you'll see it my way."

He grinned at me and left my office. My head dropped down with a thud on to my desktop.

Why me?

The rest of my morning passed without incident. I wrote a rough draft for my Dali column, and got caught up on the correspondence cluttering up my desk. Before I realized it, it was noon, and I was starving. I grabbed my phone and tapped out a text to Rosalie.

Lunch at Edison Cafe? - B

It was 15 minutes before I heard back from her.

Can't. Trying 2 avoid crisis here work. Busy all week. Dinner Fri.? - R

I smirked at her response. She was a life saver.

PERFECT. I'll bring dessert. - B

Now that I didn't have a lunch buddy, I grabbed my purse, and headed for my office door. I looked to the right, and then the left as I exited to make sure Jake was nowhere in the vicinity. Relieved, I strolled to the elevator, and then out the front doors. I walked to the cafe, which was a few blocks north of my building, ordered a chicken Ceasar salad, and sat outside at one of the tables on the sidewalk. Watching people walk by me on the sidewalk, I started to think.

I thought about my life, my job, my family and my friends.

Then I got to thinking about my childhood. More importantly, Edward. A little piece of my heart broke the day he left for school 8 years ago. We managed to keep in touch for the first year that he was gone. We e-mailed almost everyday, talked on the phone a lot; saw each other at Christmas, and for a few weeks in the summer. After a while, we started drifting apart. The phone calls would only come once every two weeks, then once a month, and then finally not at all. He never went home to Forks when I did, so we never crossed paths. Truthfully, I had not thought about him much over the past few years, but today was different. Sitting at the cafe, alone, made me think about how lonely I was. Sure, I had Emmett and Rose, and Angela, but something was missing in my life. I went to hundreds of restaurants, bars, events, and museums; but getting to do all of those things with someone I loved would be a million times better.

I took the last bite of my salad, discarded my trash, and started on my walk back to the office. Angela accosted me as soon as I rounded the corner by her office.

"Bella!" she chirped from her spot behind her desk.

"What do you need, boss?" I asked her, plopping down into the chair directly across from her.

"I've got a tip for you. A new restaurant just opened over on 5th Avenue near the FAO Schwartz. It's a five star, big deal place. It's called Masen's .Opening night is this Saturday, and I want, no I need you to be there. The owner was a professor at ICE, and everyone's talking about him. I e-mailed you everything you need to know." she said.

I smiled. "You got it. I'll see if Emmett will go with me. He's always up for free food."

She laughed. "Alright, get out of here. I've got some meetings, and then I'm taking off early today. Ben is taking me out to dinner tonight."

The rest of my day consisted mostly telephone calls and one short meeting with the graphics and art department. By 4 o'clock, my to-do list was clear, and I made a beeline for home.

By the time Saturday rolled around, I was so exhausted from the week that I slept in until 10:30am. I walked out to my kitchen and saw my cell phone flashing on the counter-alerting me I had a text message.

We still on for tonight? I've been looking forward to the free food all week. I'm starving! :-) -EmI giggled and tapped out my reply.

Be here at 7. -BI tossed my cell back onto the counter, made myself an omelet for breakfast, and got to cleaning my apartment; something I had managed to neglect all week. By 5:30, my apartment was spotless, I had caught up on my Tivo, and I had updated my schedule for the following week.

Way to be productive, Bella.

After a long, hot shower, I wrapped myself up in a towel and headed for my closet to find something to wear to the grand opening.

Hmmm...5 star restaurant...what to wear?

I shuffled through the rack, growing more and more impatient as I flipped through each article of clothing, not finding anything I wanted. Finally, I got to the back and my hand grasped a white halter dress.

Perfect!

I dressed quickly, dried my hair, and curled it so it hung in soft waves over my shoulders. After applying very little make-up and sliding my feet into my white heels, I was ready for my night out. At precisely 7:00, there was a loud knock on my door, and an even louder voice shouting my name in the hallway.

Nice Em, I don't think the people on the top floor heard you.

"Em!" I squealed, wrenching the door open and throwing my arms around him. I always enjoyed spending time with my brother. Adopted brother, to be exact. Emmett was 4 years older than me, but my parents took him in after his parents died and he was left alone with no other family.

"Hey Bells, you ready to go?" he asked as he stood in the doorway.

"Yep," I said with a nod, and grabbed my silver clutch off the table by the door. "You're lookin' sharp tonight. Did Rosalie dress you?"

As I locked up my apartment, he snorted at me before offering me his arm. "Bella, give me a little bit of credit. I may be a high school football coach, but I do know how to dress."

The drive to the restaurant took longer than it should have, because it seemed everyone and their mother was out on the road.

"You know," I started, gripping my steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. "You'd think, after living in New York all these years, I'd be used to this traffic."

"Dude, MOVE!!" Emmett yelled at no one in particular. "I swear on all that is holy, I hate these fuckers. I'm so hungry! I'm gonna start gnawing on my arm if we don't move soon." He crossed his arms over his chest and glared out the windshield as if he were trying to use The Force to move the cars.

Just as Angela suggested, Masen's was situated on 5th Avenue across from FAO Schwartz. The outside was a charming brick building with long windows, and a black awning over the front door. I could see the light from the chandeliers glistening through the windows, and the guests milling around inside. I left my car with the valet, a tall lanky boy outside, and took Emmett's arm, not trusting myself to make it up the stairs to the front door without falling. A well-built man in a suit opened the door for us as we ascended the stairs, and as I walked through the door, I was shocked by the beauty of the place. The room easily spanned two stories in height, with long ornate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The room was dimly lit, making for a much more intimate setting. There were small tables throughout the room, with deep red tablecloths covering them, and a single light in the middle of each one. The walls were a striking gold color, intricately decorated with black and white photographs and black iron wall sconces. Waiters in tuxedos hurried around, greeting and serving guests.

I was brought out of my daze by Emmett tugging on my arm. A hostess stood in front of us, beckoning us further into the room.

"Welcome to Masen's," she said with a smile on her face. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes, it should be under Bella - or Isabella - Swan." I said, drumming my fingers on the podium.

The hostess flipped through her book with a worried look on her face. "I'm sorry miss, but I don't see your name here."

I thought for a second. "Oh! Perhaps it's under Angela Weber?"

She flipped through the pages again and smiled. "Ah yes, here we go; table for 4. The rest of your party is already here. Follow me." She grabbed the menus from the small table behind her and lead us to our seats.

Our table was in the far corner of the room, and as we got closer, I noticed Angela and Ben occupying two of the four seats.

"Ang," I said, when we got to the table. "I didn't know you were going to be here."

She laughed, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. "Are you kidding, Bella? I couldn't miss this. Everybody is talking about this place. I had to come check it out for myself."

We all exchanged greetings, and Emmett and I took our seats, picking up our menus to examine our options for the evening.

As I glanced over the menu, I couldn't shake the nervous feeling I had in the pit of my stomach. Reviewing restaurants was part of my job, so I knew the feeling couldn't be linked to that; it was something I did all the time. I just had a really strange feeling something major was going to happen.

Our waiter, Juan, came to the table to take our drink orders. I ordered myself a glass of Chardonnay to see if I could get the uneasy feeling to go away. Once he came back with our drinks, we placed our dinner orders. Everything on the menu looked phenomenal, but I decided on the baked chicken.

About halfway through dinner, Angela put her napkin on the table, and stood up. "Excuse me, I'm going to use the ladies room, I'll be right back."

We all nodded, and drifted back into conversation. Ben was telling us all about his newest project at the software firm he worked for. It got to be close to 15 minutes, and Angela still wasn't back. I was just about to get up and go look for her, when she quickly approached our table.

"Bella, I just met the owner. I told him about your column, and he wants to meet you. He's over by the kitchen; come with me for a minute."

I nodded and followed her, winding through the tables and the patrons enjoying their meals. When we made it to the door outside of the kitchen, there was a group of people standing by the door chatting, two men and a woman. Upon our arrival, one of the men and the woman dispersed back towards the dining room, and the other stood with his back towards us, writing something on a small note pad.

When he turned around, my breath caught in my throat, and my knees buckled with the force of the image in front of me.

Bronze Hair.

Green Eyes.

Edward.