Some people say turning a new page in life is quite like changing your diet. You give it your best shot, you restrain yourself from indulging in all things harmful, but eventually you get tired of it and fall back into old patterns. Because something more tempting always haunts. Something more glorious always hovers, calling you in.

And even though I am turning a new page (literally – I just bought and am writing in a new journal), I am finding that some people think that way for a reason.

–

"You need to take a vacation."

"I'm fine."

"You look tired as hell."

"Really, I'm fine."

"Edward, you look like you haven't slept in days."

He leans in for a quick peck. "Just last night."

"Must have been some party."

He shrugs and looks away. "It was okay."

I stand on my tiptoes and curl my fingers in his hair. "Did you miss me?"

He smiles, though it doesn't reach his eyes, and leans till his forehead is on my shoulder. "Of course."

I speak into his ear. "I brought you a birthday present."

"You didn't have to."

I trace down his arm, take his hand and pull him towards the bedroom. "Hey, I didn't even get to celebrate your birthday. At least let me give you a gift."

He raises his eyebrows suggestively. "I can think of a nice gift that involves going into the bedroom."

I roll my eyes. "Not that gift, Pervert."

"I could convince you."

I grin. "You wouldn't have to." I kiss him. "But it's something else."

I switch on the light when we are inside the room, and walk to the closet to take out the wrapped gift. It's pretty small. It's actually pretty lame, too. It's not like I can give him anything he doesn't already have.

He takes it from me and unwraps it slowly.

"It's lame, I know. I didn't know what else to get you. I mean, you already have it all."

"Um…" He reads the print carefully. "These are plane tickets. You totally set me up with that 'you need a vacation' thing!"

"I know. And I meant it too. You need a vacation. You work too hard. And these are the tickets to the most clichéd weekend getaway ever."

"Bella, these must have been really expensive."

I should be a little offended, but I'm not. He's just stating facts. I pinch his cheek playfully. "Did no one ever tell you never to look a gift horse in the mouth?"

"Shit, I didn't mean it like that."

"You know…you spend half your time explaining yourself. Lighten up." I flick the papers. "This is how you lighten up."

"By going to Vegas by myself?"

"Here is where I confess that two tickets were slightly out of the budget." They wouldn't have been if I was still stripping at the club, though…but I stop that thought short. It's not the first instance I've wished that I was still doing my old job, and I have a feeling it won't be the last. But I need to stay strong right now. Even if the idea of a rich babysitter is laughable.

He steps in closer and wraps his arms around my waist. He kisses my hair. "I'll tell you what, though…"

"Hmm?"

"I'll go to Vegas the day you decide to come with me."

I push him away. "Very funny."

He pulls me back. "Thank you for this, Bella. Truly."

I smile. "You're welcome. I also have one more surprise."

He kisses the side of my face. "Mm–hmm?"

"I cooked your favorite dinner."

He leans back to look at me. "Really?"

"Yeah. Remember you once mentioned that you love chicken alfredo with noodles?"

"That was a long time ago."

"I have a good memory. Come on, let's eat before it gets cold."

But he resists when I try to lead him towards the kitchen. "What?"

He crushes me to him without a word, burying his face in my neck and holding me so tight that my ribs hurt.

"Edward?"

"I love you."

I kiss his hair. "I love you too."

We stand like this for a couple of minutes. When he pulls back, his eyes are tight with worry.

"What's wrong?"

He just shakes his head.

"You look sad, Edward."

"I am. Just a little."

"Why?" I whisper.

"Can we eat first?"

"You're kind of scaring me."

All of a sudden he kisses me, soft and thorough, but taking me by surprise. I kiss him back, all the while wondering what I did wrong. I mean, I must've done something wrong.

And just like that, I'm not hungry anymore. My stomach is full of knots.

"Edward," I gasp as I pull away, "I'm not going to be able to eat till you tell me what's bothering you. So just say it."

He sighs and leans his forehead to mine. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

His eyes shut tightly, as if blocking out the world – or just me – he blurts out, "I had sex with Tanya."

If I was breathless by his kiss, it's nothing compared to how I feel now. "Oh," is my brilliant reply, as I try to push down whatever it is that is choking me.

He rushes to explain – his words are barely decipherable. "Look, it wasn't planned or anything. She was just drunk and wept like a baby after I refused her. Because I did refuse her but she just wouldn't quit it and I fucking knew I shouldn't have let her drink so much at the party. Usually, putting Sophie to sleep is my excuse to stay away from Tanya till she's asleep, but last night Sophie was with Tanya's parents and just…I don't know. It all happened so desperately and just…I'm sorry."

I lick my dry lips and think of what to say to him. I wonder if I should even blame him for it. I wonder why it hurts as much as it does. But most of all, the sincerity in his eyes is disarming. He genuinely is sorry, which just breaks down all the walls I was trying to build up between us by letting the anger and sadness get to me.

And this silence between us has only been for a minute.

"Please say something," he begs.

I shrug. "Was it good?"

"Bella."

"No, just think about it. Did you at least enjoy? Because I hope you did. All of this," I wave a hand between us, "wouldn't have been worth it otherwise."

He just hugs me again. "You have every right to be so bitter. I'm sorry. Really."

I loosen his arms from around me and take his hands in mine, before reaching up to give him a small kiss. "You don't have to be sorry. You don't need my permission to fuck your wife."

He groans. "Don't say it like that."

I raise a brow. "I didn't say anything that wasn't true."

"Bella –" I put a hand on his mouth to stop his words.

"For your sake, I hope it was good. Now please just eat the dinner I spent over an hour preparing."

With that, I stalk out of the room and he silently follows me. The atmosphere between us is tense and thick with moroseness. While I set the table, he steps into the kitchen and sits up on the counter, his heavy sigh the only sound besides the clatter of cutlery.

"I was going to talk to her about ending the marriage."

I almost drop the only fine glass plates I have. "What?"

He's still looking at the floor. "It's true. I had the whole speech laid out in my head about how we were two most incompatible beings on the planet and how we never should have gotten married in the first place. But last night just…spiraled things out of control."

I put the plates down on the counter beside him and face him. He takes my arm and pulls me till I'm standing between his legs. "I need you to believe that, Bella. If I could undo last night, I would. If I could even find an explanation for why it happened, I…it was just so confusing and…I don't even like her anymore, Bella, you know that and I –"

"Shh."

I need to fix this. I don't know why I am the one comforting him when really I am hurting, but I just can't stand to see him in such pain. He looks worse than I feel.

I put a hand on his neck and stroke the hair on his nape. He stays put as I stand on tiptoes to give him a kiss. He doesn't even kiss me back.

"You're forgiven," I tell him.

He looks up and under the bright light of the kitchen I notice the laugh lines on his face. I wish I could make him laugh. I hate his sadness more than I hate mine.

"Look, Edward," I say when he doesn't respond. "It hurts. I'm not going to deny that. But I also understand that your world and my world are still very irreconcilable."

"They're not."

"Yes, they are. You're you – financier extraordinaire and whatever it is that you do. I'm an ex–prostitute and a babysitter. You have a life that is somewhat only a part of my wildest dreams. I'm not scared to admit that. Whether you want to or decide to divorce Tanya or not…we're still going to be worlds apart for a long while. I know you love me and I love you, but love doesn't fill your plates with food and love doesn't keep families together. It never has."

"So what are you saying?"

"That whatever happened last night isn't the first disappointment I've had to face and it won't be the last. Hell, you could have never told me and I would have never known. But you did. You did. That makes me have faith in you. But at the same time, I'm not a naïve girl with dreams of rainbows and unicorns. If tomorrow you do decide to keep up the appearances with Tanya and whatever, for the sake of your business, your daughter…then I would understand. It doesn't mean I won't hurt, but I'll understand."

He shakes his head. "I'm kind of offended that you think so little of me."

"I'm just being practical."

"You're being cynical. There's a difference."

I sigh. "This is a long–winded and pointless conversation. Let's just eat."

"Not until you believe me."

"I said I believe you."

"You said, but you don't. You say you have faith in me, but the very next second you imply that I'm some bastard who will keep up the appearances just because I am too chicken to go after what I want."

"I didn't say that."

"You meant it. How easily you discarded every sentiment, everything between us and called it practicality."

I huff. "People tend to do that when they are hurt."

Suddenly, he gives me a small, sad smile, jumps down from the counter and hugs me again. "At least you acknowledge that you are hurt."

I just hold him tighter.

"I never meant to hurt you, Bella."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"I love you." He kisses my hair – "You" – my cheek – "you" – and then my lips – "and only you. Just give me a little time."

And even though we are back to square one, I could give him all my life if he asked. "I love you, too."

––x––