You know that moment when you lose something – be it something important or trivial – and everything falls out of pattern? Like, say you can't find your glasses, so you spend your precious morning minutes looking for them and the routine crumbles. You miss your train, or you miss that window of time which usually allows you to reach without being stuck in traffic, you miss your coffee, you forget about charging your phone, and you miss your normalcy. And when you finally reach the office – tired, late, angry, and frustrated – someone asks you what your glasses are doing on your head.

Sometimes, what you think you've lost is still there. You just can't see it till someone points it out.

––x––

There is silence on the other end. Ten terrifying seconds of only my thundering heartbeat in my ears. Ten terrifying seconds of holding my breath so I don't sob again. Ten terrifying seconds of my nails digging in my cheek because my hand is clamped over my mouth so tight.

And then his familiar voice, strained and aghast. "Bells?"

I want to run. I want to throw my fucking phone twenty feet away from me. I want to scream. I want to laugh. I want to cry.

I do nothing.

"Bells, that's you, right?"

"I…I'm…um…hi. Hi, dad."

I swear I can hear him smile. "Hi, Bells."

"How are you?"

He sighs. "Never been better. Retired last year."

"Oh."

"What about you?"

"I'm uh, I'm good. Recently started a new job." It's not a lie. So I'm not fooling him. That's what I tell myself.

"Well. Congratulations."

"Yeah, thanks."

Cue awkwardness.

"I just…I was just worried. Dad, are you okay?"

"Yep. Still breathing."

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"No, I just meant that you…"

That you never called. You never bothered to check on me. I discarded you and you let me. Why didn't you look for me?

"I miss you," I whisper.

His voice cuts me raw. "Took you long enough."

"Dad –"

"How many years has it been, Bells? Ten? Twelve? Does it make a difference?"

I wish he was angry. I wish. But he is bitter. Disappointed. Hurt. That kills.

"I'm sorry."

"Do you have any idea how worried I've been all these years?"

Tears fill my eyes again.

"I put your face on a milk carton for a year. Even though you'd gone by choice. Put my life on hold looking for you. Even tracked down that cab you left in but it only led me to a motel in the middle of nowhere. I wished I knew you were okay."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." And just like that I am sobbing too hard to talk.

"Bella, don't cry. Look…tell me you're okay. Just tell me everything's okay." He still sounds so worried.

I hiccough. "I'm alright. I promise."

"You swear?"

"Yeah. I just…I miss you and I really wanted to hear your voice," I confess.

"I'm glad you called," he says quietly.

"Me too."

"You should…you really should stop by sometime. Where are you?"

And I don't know why but I don't want him to know where I am. "I will. I will come by…someday."

"Don't bullshit me with promises of someday. I'm too old for false promises."

I sniffle. "Dad, I swear. Just give me a little more time."

He snorts, and it's so odd to hear that sound. "More time," he repeats.

It hurts. It hurts that I hurt him and it hurts that I have nothing but a false promise and it hurts because it just fucking hurts.

"Dad, I gotta go now, okay?"

"Bella –"

"Please know that I love you."

"I love you too, Bells. You'll always be my kid." He sounds desperate, like maybe he thinks this could be the last time we talk. Like maybe he thinks that I think so too.

And I end the call before I break down even more.

It is then that I hear Edward's voice behind me. "You okay?"

I whirl and clutch my chest, stifling a scream. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry, I did knock for a while, but you didn't open the door so I just used the spare key…"

"Oh. Okay. Yeah, um. I was on the phone, so…"

He crosses the room in four strides and gently puts his hands on my cheeks. "What happened?"

I feel my face crumble and I wordlessly bury my face in his shirt as I let go of…everything.

––x––

We're on the couch – he lies sideways and I am curled as close to him as I could be in this limited space. He is leaning up on his elbow, while his hand is under my head. He strokes my face with his other hand, pushing my hair back and running his pointer finger under my eyes.

"You look like you haven't slept properly in days," he whispers and leans down to kiss the skin his finger was tracing a moment ago.

"I haven't."

He sighs, his breath fanning my face. "Truthfully, nor have I. Well, last night, anyway."

"How is Sophie?"

His lips move to my forehead. "She's as okay as a kid can be in a situation like this."

"I wish Tanya hadn't told her when you weren't around."

"Oh, she didn't. I talked to her this morning. She was actually telling her mother about it, and Sophie overheard and started asking questions. So she was forced to explain things and that just made it worse."

"That sucks."

"It does."

"I wasn't expecting you today…I mean, you had said you'd be spending time with Sophie, so…"

"I did spend the day with her. But then my Dad showed up after I spoke to my parents about the whole thing, and Sophie didn't leave his side since then. She's really fond of him. Mostly because he is generous with hot chocolate." He grins, lost in his own thoughts.

"That sounds nice."

He looks at me in a way that has me blushing, even though he does nothing but stare. "That's our future. You know that, right?"

Before I can respond, he continues. "We're going to marry someday and make pretty babies and watch them grow up and we'll grow old and spoil our grandkids rotten."

And I don't know why I'm crying again, but I am. "I'd like that."

He kisses my tears away. "You'll have that."

"I wish I could give that to my Dad, too. A chance to know me now. A chance to know you. A chance to walk me down the aisle someday. A chance to see his grandkid someday."

"You can," he says earnestly. "You will."

"I'm so scared…"

"Justifiably so. But I promise you, everything will be okay."

"I don't know why it scares me even more to believe in that promise."

"I do." He kisses me softly. "You've been let down too much." Another kiss. "I know it's not easy, but try to have some faith in me." Kiss, kiss and one more kiss. "I'm not your father. I'm not James. I won't let you down."

I twine my fingers in his hair and pull him down so I can kiss him properly. "I love you," I say between kisses. "I love you, I love you, I love you so much."

"I love you, too."

He responds to every kiss, every touch. His moan vibrates against my lips when my hands travel inside his shirt. His heartbeat against my chest is the most amazing feeling in the world. His hand teasing the skin between my t–shirt and underwear is driving me insane with desire.

But my stomach chooses to interrupt the moment by growling loudly. I groan and bury my face in his shoulder, feeling breathless laughter shake his frame.

"When was the last time you ate?" he asks, still catching his breath.

"Food is the last thing on my mind right now, Edward," I say lowly, kissing his throat.

"Your body has different ideas." He pauses because I dart my tongue out. He makes a low sound in his throat that does crazy things to my heartbeat. Then he sighs. "Tell me."

"Uh…this morning. I had a couple of toasts."

He pulls back. Crap.

"It's nine in the evening, Bella. You haven't eaten all day!"

"Big deal. I've done that before too."

He frowns. "Not funny."

"Wasn't supposed to be."

I try pulling him back to me, but he resists. "Let's eat something first."

I huff. "There's nothing in the house."

"Why not?"

"Because I haven't grocery shopped in weeks."

"Weeks?"

I roll my eyes. "Don't act so incredulous. I've been busy."

"That doesn't mean you won't eat properly."

"You're seriously going to waste making–out time in lecturing me on eating habits?" I ask jokingly. Sort of.

"Yes. I care about your health. You should try doing that sometime."

"I do. It's just that…" But I snap my mouth shut. I don't want him to start on that lecture again.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Don't make me tickle it out of you."

I give him a dirty look. Then I avert my eyes. "I didn't get paid last week. Or this week. And I didn't want to withdraw money just now because –"

"You know, it sort of hurts me a lot when you do shit like that."

"Like when I not feed myself?"

He looks heartbroken. "Like when you treat me like a stranger."

"What? No!"

He just shakes his head, his face still crestfallen.

"I can't just live off your money all the time, okay?" I snap, frustrated. Embarrassed. Ashamed.

"Yeah, this independent woman thing you have going on…it doesn't mean you won't let me know when you're going hungry."

"I wasn't going hungry! Just…limited supplies and all."

He touches his nose to mine and speaks against my lips. "Please don't do that again. Please. For the sake of my sanity."

"Edward…"

"No, I mean it. You have to get used to this. I may not be filthy rich, but I do have enough."

I look down. "I know." I shake my head. "I don't like asking for anything. I don't like feeling helpless."

"You're not! You…" He takes a deep breath. "You're amazing. You're willing to put yourself out there and still make something of yourself. That takes guts, okay? But that doesn't mean you won't let someone hold your hand through it. Maybe someone really wants to."

I hug him to me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"You have."

Trust me to ruin his good mood. I sigh and kiss his hair. "What can I do to make it better?"

"Eat dinner."

I roll my eyes. "Fine. You want to order something?"

He lifts his head from my shoulder. "Let's go out."

"Go out," I repeat.

"Mm–hmm."

"Now?" I ask him incredulously.

"Yes, now."

"In public."

"So?"

"Edward."

"Bella."

"Edward."

"You're not my dirty little secret anymore."

"Not to Tanya. But to the world…"

"I don't care about the world. I care about you. Let's go and eat in some nice restaurant where they serve the unhealthiest food."

"But –"

"No excuses." He abruptly gets up and off the couch, holding out his hand for me. "Come on."

His enthusiasm is charming. So is that grin. And I really, really don't want to hurt his feelings again.

So I take his hand with a smile of my own and let him give me the warmest, tightest hug. Goosebumps cover my arms when his lips touch the pulse point on my neck. I realize that if the rest of my life is made of moments like these…it could be a beautiful life indeed.

––x––

Our bubble bursts when we finally reach the restaurant. The idea of being out in public with Edward without him being judged for it proves to be just that – an idea.

We walk in holding hands, laughing as I recount some of my childhood memories.

And then my laugh gets stuck in my throat. My feet stop moving so he's jerked back as I stop.

"What?" he asks me.

"Jasper's here."

––x––