A/N First of all, I'm really sorry that it took me so long to update.

Secondly, I have to give you guys a little warning… Edward's not thinking very clearly, especially in the beginning of this chapter.

That being said… enjoy?

Chapter 25

Edward Pov

~ August 16th, 2012 ~

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Guilt.

It was Nicholas Rowe who once said that Guilt is the source of sorrow, 'tis the fiend, Th' avenging fiend, that follows us behind, With whips and strings.

As I rode the elevator to the first floor, all I could think about was that this was happening because of me. I had treated my mother badly, and my mistakes were projecting over my conscience, burdening me with the knowledge that my actions had triggered such a horrible and unexpected event.

I felt sick. My palms were cold and sweaty while large droplets of ice-cold perspiration ran down my temples, causing shivers of dread to wriggle their way through my body. My stomach was churning from nerves, and to make matters worse, the urge to double over and vomit was becoming stronger with each descending floor.

Closing my eyes for a split second, I wished for it all to be a bad dream, but when I opened them again, I was faced with the same dull, metallic gray of the elevator doors. It was real. My mother had tried to end her life, and it was a dishartening reality to concede that I was the one to push her over the edge. It was my fault. I could feel the heavy weight of my culpability like a millstone attached to my very soul.

I had been too hard on her. The punishment I had inflicted upon her was too cruel. I should've given her a second chance. I should've done everything in my power to make things right. Instead of kicking her out of my life, I should've thought of a softer approach to make her see reason. I should've done anything but what I did.

Emmett had been right. I was a jerk and she didn't deserve all the bullshit she had to put up with over the years. She wasn't perfect, but neither was I; so why blame it all on her when in fact our estrangement had been mostly my fault? I had been the one to push her away all my life. As a teenager, I had hurt her with my selfish, rebellious ways, and now in my adult years I continued to hurt her with my distant behavior.

I couldn't help but wonder what if? What if her suicide attempt hadn't failed and instead of being in the hospital she could be dead? I would have never forgiven myself for being the source of her pain; the reason behind her desperate act. I needed her to know that despite our recent differences and the fact that we had never been very close, she was my mother and I cared for her deeply. She had to know that there was still time for us to make things right. There was still time for her to prove that she could be the mother I had always longed for.

As the elevator doors opened and I started rushing towards the garage, my thoughts flew to Isabella and a wave of remorse washed over me. I knew it was wrong of me to leave her like I had but the impact of the news had been so great, I didn't even have time to think. All I wanted was to get to the hospital as soon as possible. I need to be there for my mother right now, and I knew Isabella would understand that.

Making a mental note to call her when I got there, I unlocked the car and got in, wincing when I sat down too abruptly and a dull pain shot through my lower back. I swore under my breath, cursing the day when that god-dammed car crash happened before turning on the engine and heading for the exit.

I arrived at Northwestern Memorial Hospital about ten minutes later. Heading towards the front desk, I was greeted by a bored-looking young blonde. After briefly consulting her computer, she told me that my mother had just been moved to one of the private rooms on that same floor, and I thanked her before making my way down the hall as instructed.

As I rounded the corner to the small waiting room, I was greeted by a sight I was sure I was never going to forget. My entire family was there, seated on the hard plastic chairs, different shades of despair written on each of their faces. They were all dressed to the nines, their expensive, formal clothes creating a strong contrast with the room's sterile environment.

My father, whose bowed head was cradled between his hands, was looking down at the floor, his eyes half-closed. Next to him, Jasper and Alice were holding hands and seemed to be talking quietly. A crying Rosalie was being held by her husband whose blank stare was aimed at the opposite wall, while a remorseful-looking Jessica stood in a corner with her arms folded over her chest almost protectively. She was the first one to spot me, and her eyes widened before lowering to the floor immediately.

Noticing her unexpected reaction, Jasper's head turned in my direction. He unfolded his tall frame from the uncomfortable chair and made his way over to me, clasping his hand over my shoulder in silent consolation.

"Where is she?" I demanded to know, grabbing hold of his wrist and squeezing nervously. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's stable now," he said, his voice low. "Dr. Smith is with her. He's an excellent doctor, so she's in good hands."

I let out a sigh of relief, tightening my hold on his wrist before letting go.

"Thank God," I murmured, running my hands over my face and finally feeling like I could properly breathe again since finding out. "What happened?"

He sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. "She overdosed on sleeping pills."

"How?" I blurted out, needing to know. "I mean why? Why would she do such a thing?"

"I don't know. One minute we were all at the table, enjoying dinner and making conversation, and the next, we heard Rosalie scream for help from upstairs. Mom was taking too long in the bathroom, so she went to look for her, only to find her passed out on the floor with the empty pill bottle in her hand."

"But why would she want to kill herself?" I asked, tormented by the belief that I had been the cause. "It's her birthday. Everyone told me she was planning this big dinner party, and… I thought she was happy. I thought she was going to be even happier that you finally proposed to Alice."

Jasper shook his head again. "We didn't get to tell her the news."

"Then why?" I insisted, my fingers creeping their way into my hair and tugging so hard it hurt. "I just don't understand."

"You want to know why?" Rosalie snapped, rising abruptly and walking over to me, her high heels hitting the white tile furiously.

"It's because of you. She did that to herself because of you," she accused, wiping some of her tears away and pointing one long, perfectly manicured nail at me. "First you throw her away like trash, you hurt her in the cruelest of ways, and then she has to find out from Jess that you're going to have a son. She couldn't take it anymore. You should be ashamed of yourself."

I felt all color drain from my face at her words. "What did you just say?"

I knew she was hurting. After her mother's death a few years back, she had gotten really attached to mine, but she didn't make any sense. How could Jess have known that I was going to have a son?

I stared at her dumbfounded, but she didn't even seem to notice my complete consternation as she went on.

"You heard me. You've always been such an asshole to her, but this time you went too far. Just look at what you made her do. How will you live with yourself now, knowing that you caused all this? That you're the reason why she attempted suicide?"

"Rosalie, that's enough," Emmett interfered, suddenly materializing beside us. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, his intense gaze boring into mine. I felt as if he was trying to tell me something with his eyes, but I couldn't figure out what. Still keeping my gaze, he said firmly, "It's not Edward's fault."

"How can you say that, Emmett?" she turned to him with outraged red-tinted irises. "Everyone here knows how badly he's always treated her. He didn't even call to wish her a happy birthday. How do you think she felt when she had to make up excuses for his absence, huh? I'll tell you how she felt. She felt distraught. She felt abandoned. By her own damn son!"

Her voice broke and she started crying again as she uttered the hurtful words. When she was done pinning Emmet down with her fierce stare, she turned back to me. "All she ever did was love you, and this is how you pay her back? You don't deserve her. You're the lamest excuse for a son I've ever seen."

"You need to calm down," Emmett said, his hand visibly tightening his hold on her. "Let's take a walk."

"I don't want to take a walk," she protested heatedly, trying to pull away from him and failing under his overpowering strength.

"I said let's take a walk," he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't want you making a scene here."

She must have sensed something in his tone because she didn't say anything else in return. Jutting her chin out defiantly, she started stomping away, and he followed, but not before throwing me one last meaningful look.

I just stood there and watched them walk away, still extremely confused about the comment Rosalie had made regarding the baby. A soft weight pressing against my chest woke me up from my reverie. Looking down, I saw Jessica hugging me, and it took me a minute to force my body to function again and respond in kind.

"It's not your fault, Uncle Eddie," she whispered, her innocent eyes begging for forgiveness. "It's mine; I told her about the baby."

"What did you tell her, Jess?" I managed to find my voice.

"That you and Bella are going to have a baby boy. I didn't mean to upset her. I was so happy for you, and I just… I said it."

I was reeling. It was all too much to take in. I could hear her perfectly, and yet, I had a hard time grasping the importance of what she was telling me.

"How do you know that Isabella and I are going to have a son?" I rasped, blinking rapidly.

"She had an ultrasound today," she replied as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Aunt Ali and I were there. We saw the baby, he is so beautiful. It was amazing, uncle Eddie."

My expression must have turned murderous because the next thing I knew Alice was standing before me, looking absolutely horrified.

"She meant to surprise you," she explained softly, wringing her hands nervously. "Please don't be mad at her. She was so excited to know she was giving you a son."

A bitter chuckle escaped my throat unwillingly. "Well, she surprised me alright, but not in a good way."

She was about to say something else when the doctor who had attended to my mother showed up holding a chart. My train of thought was immediately sidetracked, the bitterness I felt at finding out the unexpected news morphing into fear for my mother's condition. Dad jumped to his feet quickly when he saw him, rushing over to where we were standing.

Dr. Smith started giving us a very long and detailed explanation regarding my mother's state of health, but I had a very hard time just standing there and listening to him. I wanted to see for myself that she was okay.

"… fortunately, the dosage wasn't enough to become life threatening or to cause any permanent damage. She's going to be just fine."

"But I thought she ingested the whole bottle," Jasper commented, his brow furrowing.

"No," the doctor said, shoving one hand into his coat's front pocket and adopting a more relaxed position. "She must have ingested about five or six sedatives, that's all."

"Can we see her?" I asked impatiently, glancing past him and trying to figure out which way he'd come from.

"Yes, one person at a time only. But I must say she's been asking for Edward quite insistently."

"That's me," I said, my heart starting to beat frantically in my chest. "Can I go in?"

"Sure. Just make sure not to say anything that could upset her," he advised, and before I had time to ask him to lead the way, his expression hardened. "Also, while you're all here, I would suggest she sees a therapist as soon as possible. Suicide attempts, even feeble ones, are not to be taken lightly. She needs professional help and that's something both her and the family have to come to terms with."

"We understand," Dad said solemnly, speaking for us all. "You can rest assured that this unfortunate event will not be taken lightly by any of us."

Dr. Smith nodded approvingly before motioning for me to follow after him. He led me to my mother's room but didn't come in, saying he had a few other patients he needed to see.

Taking a deep breath, I worked up the courage to knock on the door softly before opening it and peering inside apprehensively. My mother was lying in the pristine hospital bed, her head angled towards the window. Slowly, she looked my way and a weak smile turned up the corners of her mouth.

I wanted to smile in return but couldn't. The sight of her, so frail and thinner than I'd ever seen her, made me want to run for the hills. The whole scene unfolding in front of me was so unnatural, for a moment I actually doubted it was real. It was frightening. My mother was the strongest person I knew, and the small woman lying helplessly just a few feet away didn't resemble her at all. She had heavy bags under her eyes; her hair was pretty much in complete disarray compared to her usual stylish curls; her lower lip bore a deep, angry-red cut, and the left side of her face presented a large bruise that extended from her cheekbone to her ear.

"Edward," she whispered, and the guilt gripping my soul was so fierce, my knees almost gave out on me.

"Hey, Mom," I said in a strangled voice as I slowly approached her bed.

"You came."

"Yeah." I sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching for her hand. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything."

"It's okay," she assured, lifting her other hand to caress my cheek. "You're here now, that's all that matters."

"Yeah, I guess" I agreed, overwhelmed by the situation we were in. "Happy birthday, Mom."

Her smile widened. "All I wanted was to see you on my birthday, and I got my wish. You're really here."

"Why did you do it?" I inquired, leaning into her touch. "What were you thinking?"

At my question her smile faded and she averted her gaze. "I… I don't know. I was just so unhappy. I wanted to die and make all the pain I was feeling go away forever."

Her words hurt so much and made me feel so ashamed of myself that I too had to look away for a moment.

"I've missed you," she spoke again, breaking the silence that was starting to set. "You can't even begin to imagine how much."

I sighed, glancing back at her. "I've missed you too and I'm so sorry to be the reason behind this desperate cry for help. I never wanted for things to get to the point where you felt so desolate as to do something like this."

All of a sudden, her brown eyes watered and a single tear slid down her cheek. "Promise me you'll never again leave me. Promise me, Edward."

"I promise. I'll always be here for you. Just… please don't ever do something like this again."

"Tell me you love me," she demanded more heatedly, squeezing my hand. Her eyes turned fiery, burning through my very soul, and for a brief second a strange sense of dread traversed my entire body.

I tried my best to smile reassuringly. "I love you, Mom. I always have and I always will."

Her face lit up with pure satisfaction as she pushed back into the soft pillow and patted my knee. "Is she here?"

"Who, Isabella?" I asked, my eyebrows knitting together, and she nodded. "No, she stayed home."

Mom snorted unceremoniously. "Go figure; she doesn't give a crap about whether I live or die. Pardon the language."

"That's not true," I argued, once again feeling bad that I hadn't at least asked if she wanted to come along. "I simply left in such a rush that I didn't even ask her if she wanted to come with me."

"Good," Mom stated, not seeming to care in the slightest that Isabella had been left behind.

"She's not a bad person, Mom. I don't get why you're so aga-"

"Let's not talk about her anymore," she cut me off, holding her hand up. "How have you been? I heard that Richardson case is going pretty smoothly. Your father is so proud of you."

She was interrupted by my phone starting to ring, and I pulled it out of my pocket only to see Isabella's number flashing on the screen. I was tempted to excuse myself and take the call, but I didn't want to upset my mother, so I decided against it and hit the silent button instead.

When I looked up, I noticed my mother watching me curiously as I shoved the phone back into my coat. Giving her a tight smile, I launched into a long story about work and the case she'd just mentioned. She seemed happy to just listen to me while holding my hand.

At some point, Rosalie showed up, practically kicking me out of the room, and I took the opportunity to call Isabella. I was still mad at her for keeping the ultrasound a secret, and as soon as her voice filled my ears, a wave of utter indignation washed over me.

What gave her the right to keep such a thing from me; to steal that momentous experience away from me? What gave her the right to make such a decision without even consulting me?

The fact that she had acted that way was not only extremely upsetting, but it also made me feel quite betrayed. She knew, better than anyone, how much I had longed for this child; how much I enjoyed every little step in this amazing journey called pregnancy.

I'd been supportive of her when she was dealing with her first trimester symptoms. I was always at her beck and call, putting up with every weird mid-night craving. I had learned to live with her extreme mood-swings that very often alternated from stand-offish and touch-me-not, to desperately clingy. I had been everything any pregnant woman could ask from her partner and this is how she repaid me?

"Hey," she said gently. "How is she? Is everything alright?"

"She's fine," I replied curtly, reigning in the urge to lash out at her over the phone. I had a bad temper when upset and I didn't want to say something that I was going to regret later. "They're letting her go this afternoon."

"I'm so glad to hear that. I was so worried."

"Listen, I'm sorry for walking out on you like that," I said, leaning against the wall and watching a nurse walk past me. "I panicked. But we need to talk as soon as I get home."

There was a brief pause before she spoke again, her voice apprehensive. "About what?"

"I think you know about what. Apparently I was the last one to find out that I'm going to have a son."

"Edward, I…"

"Save your excuses for later," I cut her off sharply, in a low voice. "I need to go now, but I'll see you at home."

"Okay," she whispered, and I could tell she was about to start crying.

"Bye."

Hanging up, I made my way over to Emmett who was seated on one of the plastic chairs, scrolling through his e-mail. He kept his gaze on the screen as I sat down beside him, but the moment he sensed my nearness, I could see his body tense. His jaw set, his shoulders stiffened, and his thumbnail started scratching down the side of his Blackberry.

"Are you mad at me, too?" I asked quietly, staring at his profile.

His tongue darted out to run a wet line across his lower lip before his teeth dug into it. He seemed to be contemplating his answer.

"No," he finally said, getting up and walking towards his daughter. Placing his arm around her shoulder, he murmured something in her ear before both of them left the waiting room at a slow, unhurried pace.

His seat was taken by my father who patted me on the back comfortingly. We sat there in complete silence, neither one of us daring to acknowledge the big elephant in the room.

~~ 0 ~~

I arrived home around three in the morning. To my surprise, I found Isabella waiting for me in the living room. She was sitting in the dark, the only source of light coming from the large plasma TV. Reaching to my left, I turned on the switch, and she looked in my direction, blinking rapidly as the strong light penetrated through her retina.

"You're home," she rasped before clearing her throat and unfolding her legs from underneath her. She had her hair up in a ponytail and was now wearing a pair of blue silk pajamas.

"What are you doing here?" I inquired, setting down the suit jacket I had somehow managed to grab in my hasty departure. "You should be sleeping."

She shrugged, facing away and dabbing at her eyes. "I couldn't."

"Have you been crying?"

"Yeah," she sniffed, chuckling nervously. "Stupid romantic movie."

I knew her well enough by now to realize that she was lying. The reason for her tears was me, not the movie she'd already seen two times before. It seemed that no matter what I did, the people I loved ended up being hurt.

When I didn't reply, she risked a glance at me. I stood a few feet away with my arms crossed over my chest, just watching her and trying to decide what approach to take. I didn't want to be too harsh, but she needed to understand that what she'd done was wrong.

"Exactly how angry are you with me?"

I let out a sigh, walking over to the windows and looking out at the silent city. "I'm not angry. Not anymore anyway. I guess I'm just extremely disappointed that you decided to undergo such an important ultrasound without me being there."

I was lying. Deep down, I could feel that destructive feeling waiting silently. It was like an unstable light bulb; all it needed to explode was pushing the switch at the wrong moment.

"I wanted to-"

"Surprise me, I know," I said, turning around. "You do realize that you deliberately took that unique experience away from me, don't you? I had the right to be there with you, Isabella. You should've let me decide for myself if I wanted to be surprised that way or not."

She flinched as if I had just struck her, her expression contorting into one of hurt. Getting up from the couch, she came to hug me as she pressed her face against my chest.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice muffled by my shirt. "I really am. The outcome I had in mind was a totally different one. I swear I didn't mean to upset you."

That was it. Instead of making me feel better, her apology only seemed to ignite the anger I'd been trying to suppress. Today's stress was taking its toll on me, and I needed to vent out. Unfortunately for her, Isabella was just about to become the receiver of my wrath.

Pushing her away gently, I began to pace the room, my fingers glued to my hair.

"I can't believe you allowed Alice and Jessica to be there with you, but not me, the father of this child," I said harshly, my voice rising in volume. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I said I'm sorry," she mumbled quietly, her repentant eyes following me. "What else do you want me to do? I can't take it back now."

"God, you can be so immature and irresponsible sometimes," I spat, not even bothering to censor my thoughts. "You're so fucking immature it's infuriating."

She blanched, her expression immediately hardening.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she gritted, her tone of voice announcing that she was starting to get mad herself. "You suddenly have a problem with our age difference?"

I shook my head, my legs carrying me to the windows once again. The city below appeared to be so quiet and undisturbed, such an unsettling contrast to how I was feeling inside.

"I didn't say that, but I would definitely appreciate it if from now on you thought twice before pulling this kind of crap again. We're in this relationship together; we're having this child together. You can't just go and make important decisions that concern both of us without even considering my opinion on the matter."

Taking a deep breath I went on. "And if I think better about it, yeah I'm mad. Actually, I'm fucking furious. I wish you'd grow up already and stop acting like a spoiled brat who wants everything to be done her way. You can do whatever the hell you want with your life, but I won't let you control mine. I won't let you tell me what to do. I won't accept you making my decisions for me anymore. I'm thirty-five years old for Christ's sake; I think I'm pretty capable of choosing for myself. I don't need you telling me how things should be done. I'm fucking tired of being jerked around."

"Everyone in my life feels like they're entitled to dictate how I should conduct my pathetic existence. For them, either I'm doing things wrong, or I'm not doing them well enough. You were not supposed to be one of them. You were supposed to be on my side. I thought you were different, but apparently I was wrong."

When I was done with my little tirade, I slowly turned around, only to realize that Isabella had left the room. Knowing that it wasn't like her to walk out on me, not even when we were fighting, some of the worst scenarios started flashing through my mind.

I eventually found her in our bedroom. She had her face buried into my pillow, her body shaking with silent sobs. Any trace of anger I might have left in me after my earlier speech, vanished immediately at the sight of her, so upset and obviously hurting. For the second time that day, I felt like a complete jerk.

I lay on the bed next to her, placing my arms around her rounded stomach and kissed her hair. I knew I shouldn't have said those things to her; upsetting her was not good for her or the baby.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you. I'm sorry for the insults I flung at you," I murmured in her ear, placing loving kisses along the shell. "I'm a fucking moron. I can't seem to do anything right today. I'm just so… frustrated with what happened. I'm obviously upset and I have a lot on my mind and… I don't know, my head is pretty much a mess right now. Please look at me. I hate to know that I'm the one making you cry."

After a brief hesitation, she revealed her face, sniffing. "I should've told you that I was going to have an ultrasound today. But I knew you were swamped at work and it was still early for me to have a detailed ultrasound, and I didn't want you to be disappointed if we couldn't find out the sex. I shouldn't have held out on you like that. I'm so sorry," she added apologetically, glancing at me over her shoulder. "Please say you forgive me."

I sighed, rubbing my forehead against her temple. "I forgive you. But don't you ever keep such a thing from me again, alright?"

"Yeah." She nodded eagerly, her voice shaky. "I promise. I won't make the same mistake again. I feel like I'm dying when you get so mad at me; like I can't breathe."

"Don't say that," I scolded gently, knowing it was her hormones talking. "You know how I am. I have a quick temper and I tend to lash out without thinking about what I'm doing or saying, but in the end we always make up. That's just how I've always been. I can't really control myself or my mouth when I get angry."

"Yeah, I know" she said softly, assenting. She wiped her tears away before turning on her side to face me. "Do you want to see the ultrasound video? It's on my laptop. I've been watching it non stop all day today."

I smiled, brushing my hand over her cheek. "I'd like that."

"Can you please get the laptop for me? I left it on the couch."

I did as she asked, and when I returned to the bedroom, she was sitting up with her back against the headboard. I joined her and opened the laptop, placing it in my lap. Leaning into me, she clicked on the only folder sitting on the desktop, and soon I was staring at the most amazing thing in the world.

The image was blurry, pretty similar to the first one I'd witnessed a couple of months prior, but this time I could clearly see the little person surrounded by a gray aura. It was moving around restlessly, and I gasped, closing my hand over my mouth as I laid eyes on my son for the first time.

"Oh my God," I said, my exclamation muffled by my hand.

The video paused from time to time as Dr. Clark's observations appeared written in white, accompanied by a small arrow pointing to different parts of the baby's body. Isabella started talking but I couldn't even hear her. My ears plugged. My eyes blurred. My heart began beating so fast it seemed bent on tearing its way out through my chest. The hairs on my arms stood up. My skin broke into goosebumps. A wave of intense heat started warming me up from head to toe. I was in awe.

I had never seen anything so beautiful before, nor had I felt such joy. Everyone knew how emotional mothers-to-be could get, but very few actually understood what happened inside a man's soul when he was confronted with his wife's first ultrasound. Isabella wasn't my wife and this wasn't the first ultrasound for me, but the feelings it evoked were so much stronger. Here, in the comfort and privacy of my own home, I could really let myself feel and bask in the immense happiness that was enveloping my every molecule.

When I was finally aware of my surroundings again, I was able to catch a bit of Isabella's monologue.

"… and Dr. Clark said that his heartbeat rate is really good. You have no idea how relieved I was to hear that. Then she prescribed me some new vitamins and made another appointment for next month."

"Uh huh," I murmured, only half listening to her. "Oh, look, his foot!"

"Yeah, he has feet, Edward," she replied, amused.

"They're so big. My son's going to have big feet."

"More likely he's going to be tall and lean, just like his daddy."

"Yeah." I grinned, liking the idea of him inheriting my body structure. "He's going to charm the panties off any girl, just like his dad."

"Hey," she protested, giving me a warning look. "Don't talk about my son like that."

"What?" I shrugged. "He's going to have a girlfriend someday and they're going to have sex."

"Ugh, I don't want to hear it."

"You're getting possessive of him already?" I teased, pulling her closer and nuzzling her neck.

"He's my baby. That's what mothers do."

Her comment reminded me of my own mother, and I frowned, glancing back at the screen. She quickly realized her mistake because she sighed, throwing her arms around my neck.

"So, you won the bet," she said, changing the subject. "Or at least half of it."

"Does that mean that you'll marry me?" I asked, continuing to watch what was left of the video. I wasn't deluding myself that she was actually going to say yes, but it was worth the try.

"Someday I will," she whispered, leaning her head on my shoulder. "Until then, how about we think of a name for our baby?"

"I like David," I said, closing the laptop when the video ended. "Or Kaleb."

She scrunched her nose. "I don't know. I kind of like Anthony."

"We have five more months to decide. Let's not rush into it."

"Okay," she agreed softly, looking up at me. After a moment of silence, she bit her lip and asked, "So… do you want to talk about it?"

"What is there to talk about? She was upset; she popped a handful of sleeping pills and passed out on the bathroom floor. Rosalie was the one to find her."

"What made her so upset?"

"Jessica told her that we're going to have a son," I said, making sure to give her a pointed look.

Isabella lowered her gaze, her fingers toying with my shirt's buttons. "Oh."

"Oh is right," I admonished gently, wanting to drive home the fact that she had acted the wrong way. "You shouldn't have taken Jess with you. I love her, but she's still just a kid and doesn't realize that when it comes to my mother, a single misplaced word could have serious consequences. I'm sure her intentions were good, but the result could have been disastrous."

"You're right. I should've known better. I met with them for lunch, and when they found that out I was going to have an ultrasound, they insisted they accompany me. I did it all wrong."

"What's done is done, and as you already said, you can't take it back now. Let's hope that next time both you and Jessica learn to be more… reserved."

"I had no idea Esme's condition was so delicate," she said, her voice full of regret. "When Alice told me she wasn't well, it never crossed my mind that it could get to this."

My brow furrowed. "What do you mean by that? When did Alice tell you that my mother wasn't well?"

The moment her terrified eyes snapped to mine, I knew this was about to get ugly. She was quiet, just looking at me with what could be described as pure fear.

"I asked you a question, Isabella."

"Uh…well, I think… I think it was a couple of months ago," she stammered, swallowing hard.

I let go of her waist, getting up from the bed and putting some distance between us. "What did she tell you?"

"Just that Esme was doing really bad and that she had fallen into some sort of depression…" she trailed off when she saw the way my jaw set and my hands balled into fists.

"And when were you planning on telling me this?" I demanded, staring daggers at her from across the room.

Finding out that she had kept yet another thing from me was enough to light me on fire. I was enraged. It was one thing for her to hide the ultrasound from me, but this… this was just too much.

Now I was starting to get really mad at both her and my family. Neither one of them considered it was necessary for me to know about my mother's depression, deliberately choosing to keep me in the dark. My father had thrown some hints every now and then but he had never been forward with me. They were all trying to manipulate me, and I'd had enough.

"When were you planning on telling me that she needed help? When she was six feet under and there was nothing I could do for her? Huh? Answer me, dammit!"

She got up on her knees in the middle of the bed, her eyes begging for understanding. "Alice said it was better if you didn't know. She thought it was just an act on her part to garner attention."

"Do you always do what Alice tells you to?" I accused, fuming. "I can't fucking believe you right now. I'm supposed to be able to trust in you, and yet, your actions prove that you're not worthy of my trust. You keep stabbing me in the back over and over."

"How can you say that? I was wrong, yes, but-"

"You were wrong?" I cut her off harshly. "That's the fucking understatement of the century."

"Edward…"

"You know what? I don't need this shit right now. I'm exhausted and much too angry to be thinking clearly. I'm going to take a shower then head to bed. You should do the same."

Spinning on my heels I started to head out of the room. As I reached the bathroom, I stopped to add over my shoulder, "Don't wait for me; I'm going to be sleeping in the guest bedroom."

As soon as the bathroom door closed behind me, I knew that this was going to be a turning point in our relationship.

Guilt.

Guilt is that obsessing, nagging feeling that weights down on your heart like an ugly, unwanted trinket.

Guilt makes you feel ashamed of yourself because it has such a negative, altering effect on your conscience.

Guilt is what makes the weak even weaker.

Guilt was the feeling washing over me as I leaned against the door and closed my eyes.

A/N Don't you want to know how Esme got that ugly cut on her lower lip? Maybe you'll find out next chapter :D

Make sure to check out the Facebook group. I decided to let my readers choose the baby's name, so I created a poll where you can vote.

Thanks for reading!

~ Andreea ~