Apologies for this update being so late. Real life once again reared it's ugly head. I'd been playing around with an idea for a new story, and it just had to get itself out of me, so I'd been working on that when a giant Nor'Easter blew through NY and knocked my power out. That happened on Saturday, while I was at the theatre seeing Remember Me. We had 70mph winds, torrential rains, and flooding all over the county. A huge tree down the street, one that I had never, ever noticed before, came down and took the main power line with it. Needless to say, the power line took our power down with it, and we sat in a dark house Saturday night, listening to the rain and wind and the gasoline generator our neighbor had running. Sunday morning, when power was still not restored, we decided to head to a local hotel. It was there we learned the extent of the damage. Over 200,000 customers without power. Tree's down everywhere, closing roads all over. Flooding in all the low lying areas. Buildings destroyed. This was a massive storm. We didn't get power back until Wednesday night, thanks to a crew from Minnesota. By then, of course, I was totally fried and up to my earlobes in laundry (a weeks worth) and mess (had to toss all the spoiled food from the fridge then clean the whole contaminated thing from top to bottom) By the time I finally got to work on this, it was Friday night. So, apologies for the late update, and apologies for the short chapter.

Thanks to everyone who's reading this, and thanks for sticking with it.

Down to business...Twilight, its characters and its situations belong to Stephenie Meyer, who, I'm willing to bet, has a nice stand by generator hooked up to her home...unlike me.

Chapter 15: Cretin Hop

He sat in the car, knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel, breathing heavily, not sure how long he'd sat like this in the garage.

It hadn't gone as planned. No, not at all. It hadn't gone well at all. If anything, he had made things worse. Much, much worse.

A consolation prize? How could she even think that? How could she even say that? If he didn't want to be with her, he wouldn't be with her. Victoria was in his past. How could she not understand that?

He pried his hands from around the steering wheel, flexing them slowly and painfully before running them through his disheveled copper locks once more. Popping open the glove box, he rummaged around in it, finally pulling out an open, crushed pack of cigarettes. He moved a few more things around, before giving up and slamming the box shut. Patting the pockets in his leather jacket, he dipped his hand in side and pulling out a lighter.

He got out of the car slowly, the feeling of numbness that had invaded his body earlier making his legs feel as though made of rubber. He suddenly felt he were one hundred and eight instead of only seventeen. He plodded heavily over to his smoking step, pausing only to light up a cigarette. The stale, cool smoke made it's way down his throat, and he coughed twice, not caring that it had been at least two weeks since he'd last taken a puff. He inhaled on the cigarette deeply, and closed his eyes as he sat down, resting his head in his free hand.

How had he made such a mess of his life?

The lights in the back of the house that illuminated the back yard patio flickered to life and Edward squinted up into their brightness. Had his parent's spotted him out here? Blinded, he heard the kitchen door open and shut, footsteps approaching him. Carlisle, he knew without seeing.

"Edward? Edward, what's the matter?" Carlisle stood before him, beige trench coat on over his suit pants, black doctor bag in hand.

"I blew it, Dad," he took another drag on the cigarette, holding the smoke in for a minute as he shook his head.

"What happened?"

Edward nodded toward the doctor bag. "Emergency?"

"Yes, one of my patients has been admitted to the hospital," Carlisle sighed, as he ran a long hand through his thinning blonde hair and sighed. "Edward, how can I help you?"

"Go, Dad. Maybe you can fix your patient. Nothing can fix me."

"We'll talk when I get back?" Carlisle looked at his son with concern.

Edward shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he took a long drag from the cigarette.

"Edward, please don't shut me out again," Carlisle sighed.

"Go to your patient, Dad. That's more important than my trivial bullshit." He stared at the glowing end of the cigarette he held between his fingers.

"I'll try to be home as soon as possible. We'll talk then?" He looked hopefully at his son.

"Sure, why not." He didn't look up as his father moved past him and into the garage.

"Edward?"

"Yeah?" He didn't turn to look.

"I'm positive we can fix you," he said sincerely.

Edward snorted. "Something only a father would say," he muttered as the engine in Carlisle's sleek, black Mercedes purred to life. He backed the car out and made his way quickly down the winding, gravel driveway.

Edward sat in silence, taking a final drag on his cigarette before snuffing it out in the sand bucket kept on his smoking step for just such purpose before lighting up another. What did his father know? He had no idea how badly he'd fucked things up with Bella. Hell, he had no idea how he'd fucked things up so badly. But it wasn't good. It's never good when you tell someone about your past and it causes them to vomit. It was obvious he'd turned her stomach.

"I love her and I make her sick," he sighed, taking another long drag.

"Those things'll kill ya."

He looked up and noticed Jasper making his way across the back patio toward him, moving awkwardly in the shadowed light, arm still slung over a giant foam rubber cube. What now, he thought. Is he coming to gloat?

"Right now, death would be a welcome respite," Edward took another puff as Jasper sat down next to him on the step.

"I take it things did not go well with Bella," his voice was laced with concern as he attempted to situate himself comfortably.

"That would be an understatement, brother of mine," Edward stared straight ahead.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Did Alice send you out here?" It wasn't as if Edward and Jasper had ever been as close as Edward and Alice were, really. Edward had tolerated Jasper for Alice's sake over the last two years in Forks, and they had barely spoken to one another unless absolutely, positively necessary, a situation that had suited them both.

"No. Alice is sleeping. She's got no clue what's going on," he said sincerely. "Edward," Jasper swallowed hard. "I know it's been a while for us, but, well, I…I don't want us to be at odds anymore. I want us to be friends again."

Edward looked at Jasper as he inhaled deeply on the remains of his second cigarette. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because Alice loves you, Edward. And both you and I love Alice."

"We do, Jazz, we do," he closed his eyes, swallowing hard before stuffing the cigarette butt into the sand bucket.

"Talk to me, Edward. Tell me how I can help you." He put his good hand on Edward's hunched shoulder, gripping it tightly.

"Oh, Jazz, I don't think there's a soul walking the face of this earth who could help me," he sighed.

"Now, we both know that's not true, brother," Jasper smiled a knowing smile at him. "You got yourself into it, and you can get yourself out of it."

"And, exactly how do I do that?" He pulled another cigarette from the crushed pack, but before he could get it to his lips, Jasper plucked it from between his fingers. "Hey!"

"Like I said, these things'll kill ya," he tucked the cigarette behind his ear. "And you are going to fix this by explaining to her."

"I did explain to her. I told her everything."

"And she got mad?"

"She fucking threw up," he shook his head. "I disgust her that much. Not to mention she thinks she's a 'consolation prize'," he made air quotes.

"Dude, did you just make air quotes? Please tell me that you didn't, Eddie." Jasper looked at him incredulously.

"I did. Deal with it, Jazz." He pulled the last cigarette from the crushed pack, turning quickly from Jasper to light it before his brother could grab it from him again. He inhaled deeply before continuing. "I told her all about Victoria, how we ran away to Whistler. How we got caught," he shook his head. "And she fucking hurled."

"Now, wait a second there," Jasper's voice was a soothing calm. "Back it up, Eddie."

"What?" Edward took another drag off the cigarette.

"You told her about how much you were in love with Victoria, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Well, what did you expect?" Jasper shook his head. "I mean, how would you feel if she told you about some guy she had been in love with and did it with before she met you?"

"She did tell me. His name was James," he leaned back, resting his elbows on the step behind him.

"And how did that make you feel?" Jasper looked at him intently.

"It…" he looked down, his voice growing low. "It disgusted me."

"Exactly."

"Not because she was with someone before me, Jazz," he shook his head. "Because he was twenty two."

"Doesn't matter. It wasn't the age. The age was the excuse you made to be upset, Eddie," he nodded. "You imagine her with him. And it makes you think, doesn't it?"

"No."

"Yes, yes it does. It makes you wonder if she'll like being with you as much as she liked being with him. Wonder if you're adequate enough for her. Wonder if she felt more with him," Jasper looked at his brother knowingly.

Edward sighed before taking another puff, closing his eyes as he did. "Ok, so yeah, maybe it did make me think a little about shit like that."

"Made you jealous too, I bet. He got what you want. And he got it before you did," Jasper nodded at him.

"Ok, Jazz," Edward glared at him. "You're right. I got jealous…and maybe a little scared. What's your point?"

"The point is," he put his good arm around Edward's shoulders. "that you both had similar reactions, but hers was more emotional. I'm willing to bet that you told her you were in love with Victoria. And I'm willing to bet she never really said she was in love with James. Am I right?"

He looked down at his feet, feeling the color rise in his cheeks. Jasper had hit the nail right on it's head. "I…well, you know how I felt about Victoria," he said quietly.

"Eddie, I love you. I really do. But," Jasper laughed. "You, my brother, are a hopeless romantic."

"I am not."

"Are too. You are looking back at the past through the proverbial rose colored glasses."

"What's that supposed to mean," he took a final drag from the remains of the cigarette filter between his fingers before snuffing the stub out in the sand bucket.

"It means that you aren't remembering your little romance all that well. You are remembering with your little head, not your big head," Jasper smirked at his own cleaver comment.

"Fuck you."

"No, listen to me, Eddie. I bet you told Bella how much you loved Victoria, how you were this perfect couple, right?"

"Yeah? So?" Edward glared defensively at his brother again.

"Well, did you tell her how Victoria wouldn't let you touch her after a ball game until you had showered and changed? Did you tell her how she would tell you what to wear when you went out?" Jasper shook his head. "Hell, did you tell her how she would belittle you and boss you around in front of everyone? Even your own mother?"

"Shut up, Jasper," Edwards hands balled up into fists.

"I didn't think so," he shifted his weight, trying to get comfortable again. "Edward, your romance with Victoria was anything but perfect."

"Nothing's perfect, Jazz," he sighed, resigned to the fact that his brother spoke the truth and buried his face in his hands.

"No, it's not. But all Bella knows about your relationship with her is that it was perfect, because that's what you told her." He looked at his brother. "She doesn't know about how Victoria made you choose your ball game or her dance recital. She doesn't know the lengths you had to go to in order to keep Victoria happy." Jasper snorted out loud. "She doesn't know the verbal tirade you would be subject to if you slipped and called her 'Vic' instead of Victoria."

"And? Your point?" Edward's patience had worn thin. He was tired, so very tired. And he was angry. Angry with himself. Angry with Jasper for pointing out why everything with Bella had gone south so quickly that night. Angry at the world for making it so hard to be Edward Cullen on any given day.

"The point, Eddie, is that without this insight, she feels inferior. She's not perfect. She's not what you want. She's what you are, in her mind, with the information you've given her, settling for…like a 'consolation prize'," Jasper mimicked Edward's air quotes and put his hand on his arm softly. "Go to her, and tell her that it wasn't as perfect as you led her to believe. Tell her, Edward. And tell her your fears…I bet you didn't tell her those either."

Edward looked up at his brother, tears in his eyes. "It wasn't exactly perfect, was it," he whispered.

"No, it wasn't," Jasper whispered softly as he smiled. "It was far from perfect. How many nights did you come home upset after a date?"

Edward nodded as he knit his brows together. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"You know I am. You were remembering something that I'm sure was the sweetest thing in the world to you at the time. But, it turned sour so quickly. That night in Whistelr was only a small part of your relationship."

"I guess I was," Edward wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "I guess I didn't think about that other stuff."

"And, your fear from that night is what's keeping you and Bella apart, I'm sure," Jasper continued. "But, Edward, Bella's not Victoria. And Chief Swan isn't her giant oaf of a father, either."

"Shit, I really fucked things up, didn't I?" He shook his head as he slid his hands into his hair, gripping the copper locks tightly between his fingers and tugging on them.

"Yeah, you did. But you can fix this, Eddie," he smiled at him as he moved his good arm up and gently pulled Edward's hands free from his hair. "I know you can."

"I should go talk to her now," Edward stood up abruptly, patting his pockets in search of his keys.

"No, Edward," Jasper stood slowly, trying to keep his balance. Edward reached out and grabbed him to steady him. "Thanks, bro," Jasper smiled. "But, I don't think you should go back to Bella's tonight."

"Why not?" Edward's face fell at his brother's words. How could he let this hang in the air between them all night?

"Because, well, you're both really upset and emotional right now," he looked at his brother softly. "Let her sleep on it. You sleep on it. Come down from all this emotional turmoil first. Then you can talk like rational adults."

"Jesus, how the hell did you get so freakin' wise, Jazz?" Edward closed his eyes and shook his head, breathing deeply. "You're like…like fucking Yoda or something."

Jasper snickered. "Wise, I am," he croaked in his best Yoda voice. "Smart you are to listen to me."

"Ok, I'll listen," Edward shook his head as a soft chuckle escaped him despite his frenzied state of mind. "I'll go to her tomorrow." He turned toward the house and, after taking half a step toward it, turned. "Hey, Jazz..." he hesitated. "Thanks." He threw his arms around Jasper, careful not to squeeze his injured shoulder too hard as he hugged him.

Jasper's arms came around him and hugged him tightly. "Man, this is way over due. I love you, brother, and I am so sorry for all the shit."

"Me too, Jazz, me too," Edward felt a tear slip down his cheek, but he didn't care. He'd ridden an emotional roller coaster the entire night and it had taken its toll.

"Come on," Jasper broke the hug first. "Let's get inside and get some sleep. Thing's will be ok, Eddie. You have my word."

Edward nodded and let Jasper lead his exhausted self into the house.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Charlie Swan rocked slowly in the old chair, watching his daughter sleep fitfully in her bed. He wanted to kill Edward for upsetting her like this, wanted to pull the old shotgun from his closet and just fill that Cullen boy's pretty face with buckshot. But he wouldn't, of course. He knew better. This was all part of growing up. Perhaps this was the 'pain' portion of growing pains. He knew not to interfere. He knew how Bella felt about Edward, and he knew Edward felt the same. His part in all of this was to be there, to lend an ear and listen, to open his arms and hold her when things were at their darkest.

This was something the two of them would have to work out for themselves, he knew. And he was positive that they would work it out. By this time Sunday night, Bella would be sleeping with a smile on her face, dreaming of her beloved Edward. Probably mumbling his name in her sleep like she always did, instead of 'Victoria', like she was now.

He'd heard the whole conversation. Not that he was listening. But the walls in the old house were paper thin, and sound traveled. Well, sound traveled and it didn't hurt to lower the volume on the flat screen tv. He knew that Edward's words had hurt his daughter, but he also knew her reaction had hurt Edward.

He felt at odds with himself, old Charlie Swan did. How could he not? He understood Bella's point, because it did sound like if made to choose, Edward would always choose Victoria. But, there had to be more to it than that, Charlie knew. Edward Cullen wasn't the kind of kid to intentionally hurt anyone, let alone a girl he was crazy about. He just felt it in his bones that Edward's intent was not to destroy his daughter.

Bella stirred and Charlie stopped rocking, watching as she twisted under the sheets, mumbling 'No…don't go…' as she did. He knew she was dreaming of Edward, and he frowned. He wished he could take her pain away, set everything right with Edward. Wave a magic wand and POOF! It's all better now and we live happily ever after.

But he knew he couldn't.

No, she would have to go through this, go through the anguish that was high school and romance and…love.

Love.

It was a four letter word, it was. And it was, in his estimation, the worst of them all.

No one knew that better than Charlie. How could he even try to council his daughter and give her advice on her relationship with Edward, when he himself was, as he'd heard Bella say so often, an 'epic fail' at love and relationships?

Besides, he trusted Bella. She had a good head on her shoulders. She knew what she wanted. She knew her limits. She was far more mature than most other kids her own age, Edward included. Although, if he were being fair, he would note that Edward had made several profound statements tonight that he knew had been lost on his daughter in her devastated state. Edward, at least, seemed to understand what love was supposed to be.

He looked out the window. It was another gray and overcast day in Forks. He was sure that when she finally woke up, Bella's disposition would match the weather's. He wasn't about to wake her up any time soon, either, considering she'd finally cried herself to sleep only a few hours before. He'd felt so helpless. All he could do was sit on the bathroom floor and hold her. Hold her while she gasped and sobbed and clutched at his shirt, tears soaking through the thick flannel. In that moment, he'd never wished for anyone's head on a stick more than he'd wished for Edward Cullen's.

It was only after he'd carried her to her bed and tucked her in like he'd done when she was little, sitting with her and brushing the hair away from her face to comfort her, that he'd had a chance to calm himself down and reflect on what he'd heard. And he knew, just felt in his bones, that Edward hadn't said everything there was to be said.

Of course, if Edward showed up at the front door before Bella woke up, he would not allow him in. He would just tell him to grin and bear it. Go cool his jets and come back later in the day. And, what if he showed up at the bedroom window? Well…if he survived the fall, odds are Edward would definitely tell his father that the chief of police had pushed him, so that would be out of the question.

The doorbell rang as if on cue, and Charlie quietly sighed to himself as he got up, preparing mentally what he would say to Edward when they were face to face. He glanced at the glowing numbers of the alarm clock on Bella's night stand. Didn't this kid ever sleep?

"Hold your horses," he mumbled as he moved swiftly down the creaky old staircase. He pulled the front door open and rolled his eyes. "Now, look, kid…"

Esme Cullen stood before him, confused look on her serene face.

"Esme…I…I'm…Oh, won't you please come in," Charlie was flustered and embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I was expecting~"

"You were expecting my son," she smiled demurely at him as she stepped into the front hall.

"Uh…yeah," Charlie nodded as he looked down, feeling guilty for some of the things he'd thought about Edward earlier. "Come in," he motioned to the living room and Esme followed him in. "Sit, please. Can I get you a cup of coffee? I was just about to make some," he lied.

"Coffee sounds wonderful, Charlie. Thank you," she smiled as she sank down regally onto the sofa. He took the picture of her in. Esme Cullen, the very essence of refinement, sitting in her designer clothing on his worn old sofa.

He moved into the kitchen and fumbled with the coffee maker. "So, what brings you over here so early?"

"I wasn't aware that ten thirty was all that early, Charlie," she laughed softly. Esme was the kind of woman who could disarm any man with ease.

"Well, I've kind of been up all night," Charlie stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, leaning against the door jam ashe ran his hand through his dark, messy hair.

Esme nodded at him. "As have we. Carlisle and I," she sighed. "Edward was so upset. Angry, really."

"With Bella?" Charlie stood up straight.

"No, Charlie. With himself," she slid her French designer purse from her lap and laid it on the sofa next to her. "He'd tried to set things right, but only managed to make things worse. And it's his own fault, I'm afraid."

"I heard what he said, Esme," Charlie moved back into the kitchen, opening up a cabinet and taking out two coffee mugs. "I hope you like mugs. I don't have any cups and saucers or fancy china, I'm afraid."

"A mug is just fine," she called after him.

"How do you take your coffee?"

"Black, please," she crossed her legs at her ankles and graciously accepted the large white latte mug with the Starbuck's logo on it. "Thank you, Charlie."

"So," he sat down gingerly in his worn leather recliner, holding his steaming green cup with the silver sheriff's badge on it, emblazoned with the worlds "Worlds Greatest Dad" wrapping around the sides. "What brings you to the old Swan house on this grim morning?"

"Edward and Bella, of course," she said it as though it ought to be obvious to Charlie, which, of course it was. He just wanted a verbal confirmation of the situation.

"And…are we supposed to fix this?" He sipped his coffee, closing his eyes with relief as the warm liquid caressed its way down his dry throat.

"No, Charlie," she shook her head. "Edward is supposed to fix this. And he will. But I think Bella needs a little something extra to soothe her before she sees him again." She took a sip of the hot, black liquid. "This is very good coffee."

"Thanks, Esme. Good coffee important coffee is to us cops," he smirked and took another sip. "So, what is it you think Bella needs?"

"She needs to be made to feel special," she smiled at Charlie. For the first time, he could see the dark circles under her eyes, and the worry lines across her forehead. She loved Edward, he knew, and much like Charlie with Bella, Edward's distress was Esme's distress. "Something my son obviously needs to learn how to do, and he needs to learn it fast."

"So, that's the secret?" Charlie smiled in spite of himself.

"The secret?" She looked at him, confused.

"The secret to a long and happy marriage, like you and Carlisle seem to have."

"Oh," Esme Cullen blushed. "Well, yes, my husband does tend to make me feel special," she was flustered. "But, well, there's more to it than just that."

"But special doesn't hurt, right?" Charlie grinned.

"No, special definitely doesn't hurt," she blushed again.

"So, what do you have in mind to make my kid feel special?" Never let it be said Charlie wasn't sensitive to a woman's embarrassment.

"I made an appointment for us to have a girls day out. Mani-pedi's in Port Angeles, then lunch. That is, if you don't mind, Charlie." She took another sip of her coffee.

"No, of course not, Esme." Charlie took a deep gulp from his mug, regretting it almost immediately and wishing he had a napkin to wipe his moustache with. "It'll actually be good for her. Otherwise she would probably just mope around the house, waiting for him to call or something."

"Oh, he's going to call. He's going to apologize and he's going to set things right," she smiled at him. "Got something on the 'stache," and she waved her finger at him as if to illustrate. Embarrassed, Charlie hopped up from his chair and ran into the kitchen for napkins, returning quickly with a napkin for her.

"Thank you, Charlie."

"You're quite welcome." Was this what it felt like when royalty came to visit? He could easily envision Esme, in her fine clothing, sitting in Buckingham Palace, having high tea with Her Royal Highness, the Queen.

"There is no way that boy and his hormones are going to ruin my Thanksgiving. Excuse me, our Thanksgiving…but it's really mine," she winked at him.

"Why, you little devil. Does Carlisle have any idea how devious you are?" Charlie chuckled.

"What Carlisle doesn't know won't ever hurt him, Chief Swan," she took another sip from her giant mug. "This certainly does hold quite a bit of coffee."

"Yeah, we're pretty heavy coffee drinkers around here," Charlie made a mental note to invest in some good china. The kind that came with matching cups and saucers. "You know…cops and their coffee," he laughed at his joke.

"Oh, please," she waved her hand at him, and he noticed the size of the diamond engagement ring she wore. Yowza. "My husband lives on coffee. I think if you took a blood sample from Carlisle, it would turn out to be one hundred percent caffeine."

The conversation was interrupted by the groan coming down the stairs.

Bella padded into the living room, hair in disarray, eyes still red and swollen from crying. She stood in the doorway, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Mrs. Cullen?" Her voice was still thick with sleep.

Esme stood, still holding on to the large coffee mug. "Bella!" Her voice was as bright as sunshine on a clear July morning. "Darling, you need to get ready! We have a busy afternoon ahead of us!"

"We…we do?" Her head and throat hurt, most likely from crying. She felt like she was hung over, but she knew otherwise.

"Yes, dear. You and I are going to have a little girl time this afternoon in Port Angeles. Manicure's and pedicures." Esme's serene smile never faltered.

Bella looked at Charlie as he nodded in agreement with Esme. "When…am I supposed to have known this?" She squinted at her father, confused.

"I just made the plans, Bella. If you're busy, we can do this another time," Esme tried to hide the disappointment in her voice.

"Bella has no other plans for today, Esme. She just needs to wake up a little bit," Charlie winked conspiratorially at Esme.

"Where's….Alice?" Caught herself. She didn't need to ask where he was. She knew where he was…and where he wasn't.

"Alice still isn't very mobile, I'm afraid. That darn boot cast slows her down, so she opted to stay home," Esme sounded disappointed, but Charlie knew better than to believe her. He knew instinctively that Alice had never been a part of Esme's plan.

"She'll be disappointed she missed a day at the nail salon," Bella scratched her butt as she plodded heavily into the kitchen. Esme and Charlie exchanged glances, eyebrows raised.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Bella pushed the pasta around on her plate, never really piercing any of the penne with her fork. Esme had been wise and had chosen Italian over Chinese this afternoon.

"Is there something wrong with your food, dear?" Esme's voice was concerned. They'd had a pleasant enough time and the nail salon, and it looked like Bella really did enjoy the pampering, especially the foot massage. So much so, in fact, that Esme had insisted she have a nice hot stone back massage as well. She could tell by the look on Bella's face that it had served her well. But now, in the restaurant, Bella hardly touched her food.

"Um…no. It's fine, Mrs. Cullen," she nodded and popped a penne in her mouth, chewing slowly and smiling a false smile as she swallowed.

"Bella dear, I think we both know why I brought you here today," Esme pushed her half full plate back and folded her hands in front of her on the table.

Bella nodded. "Edward," she said his name quietly.

"No, not just Edward. You and Edward," Esme's voice was gentle.

"With all due respect, Mrs. Cullen, I don't believe there is an Edward and me any longer," she swallowed hard, trying to prevent her voice from cracking.

"Then, with all due respect, Bella, I think you are incorrect."

Bella looked across the table at Esme Cullen. Her perfectly tailored black wool blazer matched her perfectly tailored black wool trousers perfectly. And the pristine gray silk blouse she wore beneath the blazer offset the stunningly perfect strand of pearls she wore, well, perfectly. The expensive black leather pumps on her feet were obviously designer and…perfect. Esme was everything Bella was not and never could be. Refined. Elegant. Tall. Beautiful. Perfect. Bella looked down at the loose gray turtleneck she wore with a pair of tight jeans and worn sneakers. She hadn't bothered to put on any makeup or fix her hair. She just washed it and pulled it back into a pony tail, the orange stripes making a haphazard pattern on her head.

"What…what makes you think that?" Her voice was small.

"Because Edward loves you. Because he was trying to make you understand his fears. Because, well, I love my son with every ounce of my being, but at times, Edward is a remarkably dense creature."

"He never mentioned any fears," Bella rested her elbow on the table and laid her head in her upturned palm as she pierced pieces of pasta onto her fork. She felt emotionally drained, although she couldn't help but notice that her nails were fabulous.

"I'm sure he didn't. He told you facts, but didn't tell you why he told you those facts," she shook her head. "Bella, my Edward is, sadly, very much like my Carlisle. They are both hopeless romantics."

"Pfft. Yeah, I learned that the hard way," she sulked.

"I've tried to explain to him that, sometimes, in love like in life, we need to spell things out. Make our intentions crystal clear. Unfortunately, Edward deals in opaque." She reached across the table, and touched the hand that held Bella's fork. "Don't give up on him, Bella. Allow him the honor of explaining himself more clearly."

"Mrs. Cullen…I…he…he said…w-when he…he was w-with…" she stammered. She hated it when she stuttered or stammered. It made her sound moronic and incoherent and stupid and she hated feeling that way. She closed her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts and, taking a deep breath, spoke again. "Edward told me how deeply in love he was with…her. He told me they ran away together. And he told me what…they did." She looked at Esme. "He still loves her, Mrs. Cullen. Where does that leave me?"

"First of all," Esme smiled at her as she pulled her hand back, playing with her perfect pearl earring. "He doesn't still love her. Edward's problem is closure. We left Seattle so quickly, that he never saw her again. She never tried to contact him either."

"How can you be so sure?" She hated how whiney she sounded when she said it.

"Because, dear, he is in love with you. He told me so himself," she smiled.

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. "But he said he was in love with…her."

"She is in the past, Bella. You are Edward's future."

"He would leave me in a heartbeat for her," Bella felt the all too familiar tears welling up in her eyes once more.

"Is that what he lead you to believe?" Esme looked surprised.

Bella nodded, wiping the tears that had spilled over from her cheeks. "He said that he was in love with her and he…he cherished the memories of it," she took a deep breath. "I'm nothing more than a consolation prize, Mrs. Cullen."

Esme looked confused. She closed her eyes and seemed to be having an internal dialogue with herself for a moment. When she opened them, her face had returned to its usual serene state. "Let me ask you a question. If Edward felt you were a…a consolation prize, as you put it, do you think that, for one moment, he would even care that you felt that way?"

Bella concentrated on Esme's face. "I…I don't know."

"Yes, you do. You know that if he honestly felt that way about you, he would have just shrugged and walked out of your life. But he didn't."

"He…he left." More tears spilled hot and wet down her cheeks.

"I know he did. And that was wrong of him. He needed to explain, but he was hurt by your reaction. I know it's not really an excuse, dear," she reached across the table and took Bella's hand in hers again, squeezing gently. "Let him come to you, Bella. Let him say his piece. Listen to him, and, please, remembering that he is in love with you, ask him to explain anything that's not clear. Communication is so important, dear. It can make or break a relationship."

Bella looked at the woman across the table from her. This seemed so important to her. Would she really have gone through this, spent an afternoon with her, if what she said wasn't true?

Esme squeezed her hand again. "Please, Bella. Promise me you will listen to Edward. Listen with you head and your heart?"

Bella nodded. "I promise, Mrs. Cullen. I'll listen to what he has to say."

Esme smiled brightly at her. "Thank you. That's all I can ask of you. Now, let's get back to Forks, shall we?"

Esme paid the bill and drove her new gray BMW skillfully back to Forks. What was it about the Cullen's and their uncanny ability to drive so well?

They pulled up in front of Bella's house, and Esme put the car in park.

"Thank you for this afternoon, Mrs. Cullen. I really do appreciate it," she smiled slightly at her.

"You are so welcome, Bella. And thank you for hearing me out," Esme reached across the center console and hugged Bella tightly. "And, please, if you ever need to talk about anything under the sun, feel free to call me or come by the house, ok?"

Bella nodded. "I will, Mrs. Cullen," she opened the car door. "And, thank you so much."

"I hope I put your mind at ease a bit," Esme touched Bella's chin lightly.

"You did," she smiled a real smile for the first time since she and Edward had had their fight the night before. Was it really only the night before? It had felt to her like a thousand years had passed.

"Good luck, Bella."

Bella nodded and got out of the car, closing the door behind her and climbing the steps to the front door, feeling much lighter than she had when she had left. Esme revved the engine and pulled away from the curb as Bella stepped into the hallway, stopping short in the doorway to the living room.

Edward Cullen sat on the sofa, watching football with her father.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A bit of a transitional chapter for you there. Esme is always looking out for her boy, isn't she? And Charlie, bless his heart, would love to mess up Edward, but he keeps his distance. Dont' we all sometimes wish parents would do that? LOL

Hopefully, we won't have any more weather issues and real life will let me work on the next chapter sooner rather than later!

Thanks again for reading and for sticking with my little story! Please review and let me know what you think :)