Chapter 8

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Life settles into a familiar routine in the days following my meetup with Edward. Having spent the past six years coming to terms with the reality that I'd likely never see him again, it takes a few days for me to digest the time I spent sitting across a table from him. The solid wall I'd built around my daughter and myself had abruptly cracked, his presence alone damaging the years of contentment I'd convinced myself I'd found.

There's an unexplainable bond linking you to the person with whom you share a child, even if you don't actually share that child. For years Edward's place in our life was that of a sperm donor and little else. I'd allow my mind to wander at night, when things were dark and quiet, and the whispered voices of what if and why not crawled out from the deepest corners of my soul. Why wasn't I enough? Why weren't we enough? But during the day, with the hustle and bustle of mommyhood, those guttural feelings retreated and left me feeling wholly satisfied with my little girl and our little family. She was mine, I'd remind myself, and that was enough for me.

I was wrong, though, and I know that now. His beautiful face, with eyes so like hers and hair just the same. His body, six years older than I remembered and the memories of the way if felt against mine, pinning me down, burning me up. His quiet demeanor, so different from the cocky boy I hated remembering. I ache for him even when I don't. There's a blank space where a father should have been, and he's the only one who fits. Who should fit. Despite my hatred for him, and despite my disappointment, I can't deny his hold over me. Over us.

Coming to terms with his return to our small town takes longer for me than I'd expected and longer than my brother has the patience for. I worry endlessly that we'll run into him while we were out and about, or that he'll just show up at our door. He's kept his distance, though, after our coffee talk, and I appreciate the space. It's given me time to think and time to work towards softening my heart toward Edward Cullen.

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"You see your boy today?" Emmett reaches around me for a stack of plates and carries them to the table.

Equipped with silverware and a fierce look of disdain, I follow him to the small breakfast room just off the kitchen. "He's not my boy. And no."

"I thought you guys were, like, buds now?" Emmett places four plates around the small table, all alike in their plainness save for one colorful rainbow setting that marks Ava's seat.

I follow directly behind him, laying forks and knives on napkins, my eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "Why on earth would you think that?"

He shrugs. "I don't know; your date or whatever."

"Our date?" I guffaw. "You're such an idiot."

"He said you spent time at a coffee shop talking. Alone. Sounds like a date to me." He sounds smug. I hate smug.

"Wait. You talked to him?" I halt my table setting and tug on the back of his shirt. "You're a freaking traitor. That's what you are."

"Who's a traitor, Momma?" Ava rounds the kitchen corner with Rosalie by her side. They'd been reading together—a daily requirement for Ava's school—while Emmett and I prepared supper. The smell of lasagna, Ava's favorite, has her circling the kitchen like a hound dog.

"No one, love." I put a glass of water on her placemat and pull her chair back. "Ready to eat?"

We sit down together, our little dysfunctional family of four, and pile our plates high with lasagna and the salad that Emmett has prepared.

"Highs and Lows," Ava quips, mouth full of food. "Momma, you go first."

"Me first?" I think about my day while I chew my salad. "High; I had a good day at work. Low; I have a big test to study for tonight."

I invented the High/Low game for Ava when she started school and suddenly became too cool to tell me about her day. Gradually, the silly sharing game expanded to include the whole family.

Rose chews quietly to my left, pondering her turn. She swallows, then smiles at Ava. "High; hearing Bug read an entire chapter out of her book." She turns her head toward Emmett and narrows her eyes. "Low; I was late for work this morning."

My brother's ears turn red, and he lowers his eyes to his plate. "High; we're having lasagna. It's my fave. Low," he stops to clear his throat, "I was late for work this morning, too."

"Oh, gross." I mutter. Emmett has the decency to look properly abashed. Rosalie shoots me an evil grin.

"You're up, Bug," she says, looking at Ava. Never a more welcome subject change.

"High," Ava sits up proudly. "I got to lead the line to the library today. Low; I talked too much at lunch and didn't get to finish my pudding."

Emmett chuckles and reaches over to ruffle her hair. "Serious stuff, Bug."

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"He stopped by and talked to Emmett today," Rosie says quietly. We're standing side by side at the sink, up to our elbows in suds and foam. I can hear Ava's bath water running from the other end of the house, a sign that she and Emmett are sufficiently preoccupied.

I use my wrist to push a stray piece of hair from my cheek. "I assume you mean Edward," I say. "What'd he want?"

"I think he just wants to feel connected, Bella. To you. To Emmett...I'm not really sure." She grabs a towel from the counter, wiping her hands as she turns to rest her hip against the sink.

Scrubbing viciously at a stubborn speck of food, I shake my head. "It's hard for me not to take offense at that, Rosie. Why didn't he want to feel connected six years ago?"

Placing her warm fingers against my arm, she quiets my thrashing. I drop the abandoned dish back in the water and turn to look at her. Rosalie's blue eyes stare back at me, full of understanding and free of judgement. She's accepted me, flaws and all, and she loves me just the same.

She tucks my hair behind my ear and rests her hand against my neck. "I really think he's changed, Birdie," she whispers. "And you have, too."

.

.

The day after Edward kissed me in the kitchen of my house, our parents went out of town and left Emmett and me to fend for ourselves. I had an upcoming exam in Chemistry to study for, so I fully intended to spend my weekend holed up in my room, observing the occasional study break for important things like napping and painting my toenails.

I slept late Saturday morning, not emerging from my down-feathered cocoon until nearly noon, and only then because the urge to pee became too much for me to sleep through. A quick scan of my messy floor revealed a perfect weekend uniform in the way of ratty boxers and an old, loose tank top. I hastily threw both on and sleepily made my way out of my room and down the hall to the bathroom.

I heard the girls before I saw them. They were giggle-whispering to each other just inside the bathroom, bikini clad and heavily slathered in suntan oil. I wrinkled my sun-kissed nose in disgust and announced my arrival with two swift knuckle raps on the doorjamb.

Mass amounts of high-pitched laughter accompanied Lauren's surprised squeal. "Birdie! You scared us!"

"Bella," I corrected. "Sorry."

I fidgeted awkwardly as her eyes did a quick and practiced head-to-toe body scan.

"You're so adorable," she eventually declared. "Right, Jess?"

Jessica nodded dutifully at her side, her brown curls bobbing fiercely. "Oh, yeah. Totally cute."

I hated them both so much.

Lauren raised a hand and petted the top of my head. "And you're, like, practically pocket-sized!" she cooed.

Jessica's head continued to bobble. "Totally tiny!"

I flicked my head toward the bathroom and smiled tightly. "Mind if I have a turn in here?"

Lauren squealed and Jessica bobbed. It was like some type of synchronized ditz dance. "Oh, gosh! Sorry!"

We traded places, me in the bathroom, them in the hallway, and I turned around to give them a two-fingered salute before shutting the door. Lauren wiggled her plastic-tipped fingers at me and linked her arm with Jessica's. "The boys are waiting for us, so we'll see you later, Birdie!"

"Bella," I muttered as the door shut behind me. "Fucking idiot."

It wasn't until I was finally emptying my bladder that I realized what she'd said. The boys are waiting for us.

The boys. Emmett and Edward.

Edward. In the pool with Lauren and Jessica. At my house.

I hated myself for how quickly my eyes filled with tears. I'm no idiot, I should have known that a kitchen kiss with Edward didn't mean anything; didn't change anything. Just because I'd spent all night remembering the way it felt to have his mouth on me and reliving the way his warm fingers felt against the bare skin of my stomach, didn't mean he'd given our kiss anything more than a passing thought.

I should have known.

The decision to walk over to the balcony window was much harder than it should have been. I hated that I couldn't stop myself from looking. What happened to the girl who'd never compromise herself for some pretty guy? How could my entire sense of self worth already be wrapped up in the approval of the taker of my first kiss? I hated him for adding me to the long list of willing users, and I hated myself for knowingly signing up. My heart ached as my body drove me closer to the window overlooking the backyard at the end of the hall. I mindlessly stepped forward until my toes pressed against the baseboards and my breath fogged the glass. My palms tingled as they pressed against the warm, sun-kissed pane.

She was wrapped around him like a spider monkey. Her legs twisted all the way around his waist so that he had no choice but to grip her ass below the waters lapping edge. Maybe he planned it that way.

Her orange arms were crossed over each other around the back of his neck, and her plastic nails scratched at the back of his head. My stomach lurched when he tucked his head and turned his face into the side of her neck. I saw red when she threw her head back in what I could only assume was either another shrill giggle or a breathless moan.

I caught a salty tear with my tongue and watched as he smoothly spun her in a lazy circle in the water. His tan back teased me, and the blonde hairs at the base of his hairline taunted me. I hated him. I wanted him.

Two weeks, to the day, after my coffee meeting with Edward, I'm at work when my phone chimes with an incoming text.

Emmett gave me your number...don't be mad.

I, of course, know immediately who it is. I think on some weird level I'd been waiting to hear from him. At the very least, I'd expected it.

Ducking behind the pie case, I punch out a quick reply.

I'm immune to everything Emmett does.

We aren't supposed to have our phones out while we're working, so I drop mine in the pocket of my apron and pretend to focus intently on wiping down the nearest counter top.

A few minutes pass before I feel it vibrate against my hip. I try to ignore it, really I do, but I've chewed my lower lip raw, and I'm going to wipe off the varnish on the cheap laminate countertops if I don't get a grip.

How can it already be this difficult to ignore him?

My co-worker Kathy is busing a nearby table, and I swing by to let her know I'm going to take a quick bathroom break. The diner is silly slow this time of day, so I don't think I'll miss out on anything by giving my tables over to her.

Once in the bathroom, I lock myself in the dank stall and lean my back against the wall. I force myself to take ten steady, deep breaths and calm the fuck down. A handful of written words from him and I'm already losing my mind! No way, not this time. I've already done the bumbling, fawning lackey thing with Edward Cullen once. I'd rather not do it again.

That little mental pep talk is all I need to right myself back to reality. A reality where I'm not sixteen and Edward's not my teenage idol. A reality where I carried his child, alone, while he skirted away with a brisk thanks, but no thanks, and tried to reinsert himself back in my life six years later.

Can I see you? his text says.

I'm back to abusing my lip, turning his words over and over in my head before giving my fingers permission to type a response.

I'm working...

His reply is immediate. Later, then? Tonight?

I have no idea why he wants to see me, but I'm afraid I'll be disappointed if I ask.

No, not tonight. Emmett's turn to cook dinner & I have a ton of homework to tackle after Ava goes to bed...

Several minutes pass without a reply, and I worry I've hurt his feelings. Immediately, I wonder why I care.

I don't want to lie to Kathy, so I make myself use the bathroom quickly before heading back out. I've just finished washing up when I feel my phone buzz once more from its home in my apron pocket.

Drying my hands, I pull it out and frown in confusion.

Where are you?

What the heck, dude. I just told you...

I'm at work, remember?

Some people never change, is what I'm thinking as I pocket my phone for the last time and push my way back out front through the swinging double doors behind the counter. Kathy's bent over the lower cooler, but she turns abruptly when she sees me and flicks one artificially arched eyebrow toward the diner door.

Confused, I follow her stare and find Edward Cullen, perfectly tailored suit and hair expertly disarrayed, standing near the jukebox. Smirking at me.

Thanks for reading.