Edward
You'd think staying at your mother's for a while might give you some peace of mind. You'd think it might be what you need to let your brain rest. Hell, one might find some solace in their entire situation. I thought I'd find some way to accept all shit, find a reason for why my former best friend and almost ex-wife might do this to me and my business. But what I got instead? Damn…I can't even begin to unravel all my thoughts right now. It's like all of this is coming at me like a giant wall in an Egyptian crypt. I see no way out, except to plant dynamite and to run until my legs give out.
About an hour after Rosalie leaves with Bella to go work at the bar, I'm watching an animated movie with my little nephew while we have homemade, buttery popcorn. It's all fun and games. Until there's a knock at my mom's front door.
I don't think twice, open it without hesitation.
Until I realize who's standing there in joggers and a bun. And I swear I want to slam the door in her face.
Casual Renée—the Devil incarnate.
"What the fuck?" The words are out before I even know it. "Are you kidding me?" I'm glancing at Mitch over my shoulder, who doesn't have a care in the world. Let's keep it that way.
"I…" she starts, her eyes red-rimmed. Renée doesn't look like herself. She's the shadow of the brand-whore, extravagant woman that she built herself to be. I'm confused, to say the least.
"What are you doing here?" It's the first thing that came to mind.
"I was going to ask you the same thing…"
I shake my head, tugging at my hair. Not quite knowing what to say.
"The audacity…" I mutter under my breath.
"I'm sorry, what?" She's seething now, a scowl on her face even Botox can't mask. "You disappear on me, and you are talking about audacity?" As if you care, bitch.
"What are you doing at my Mom's house, Renée? You have no business here."
"I was looking for you. I've been worried out of my mind."
I almost start laughing.
"Are you worried about me when you disappear for days on end?" I ask her, hearing the movie play behin me in the living room.
"What are you talking about?" Renée shakes her head, strands of honey-blonde hair escaping her bun. "When I'm gone, it's never for more than one day."
"Oh, really? What about three months ago, when you left a message on my voicemail, telling me you'd booked a hotel because you didn't want to make the drive back home from that one wedding?"
"That's called safety, Edward." Her face is blank of any kind of emotion as she crosses her arms in front of her chest.
"I checked your calendar, Renée…you were booked for a wedding forty fucking minutes away. Yet your credit card statement said you were staying in a hotel two hours away."
I never once disclosed that information to her. I never let her know that I knew. The bullshitting ends today. My vision is clouded, it's red with fury.
She's being so fucking quiet I swear I can hear wind hitting the house right now.
"Were you worried then?" I start angrily. "Probably," I shrug. "Worried to get caught, right?"
I didn't realize I was yelling until my mom comes up behind me.
"You need to get off my property." It's all she says, her expression a silent storm. Dark and uninviting.
"I am here to talk to my husband," Renée has the nerve to say, ignoring Mom's death-stare.
I feel my mother's steadying hand on my shoulder blade.
"I don't have anything to say to you," I reply, shaking my head, keeping my voice down.
"So what, you're moving out because of that hotel?"
This time, I do laugh. It catches her off guard, a surprising look on her face.
"Do you seriously hear yourself, Renée?" I feel my mother leave, the sound of the television turned up louder before she closes the door from the living room to the hallway. "You think I don't know you're screwing someone behind my back?" I lower my voice so Mitch won't hear.
"It's over, Edward. I promise, it's over."
"I can't believe you're lying to me right now."
"What do you want me to do, then?"
"Tell me the fucking truth, Renée. Tell me you're fucking Mike and that you have been for a fucking while."
"God, you're pathetic. Can't believe I married you," she mumbles.
"I can't believe that I married you. With your track record of husbands, and your fucking cheating…"
"Seriously? You were all over me when we met." Taking that walk on memory lane honestly makes me feel sick to my stomach.
"Those days are long gone." I take a deep breath. "I want nothing to do with you from now on. Ever again."
She scoffs.
"So, what are you saying, Edward? That you'll meet me in court, or what?" Ding dong, the bitch is back.
"Yeah, I want a divorce but it shouldn't have to be so difficult, should it, Renée?" I question. "After all, you already have your new boyfriend to comfort you. And you're making plenty of money, have a house you leeched off of husband number whatever. So I guess you're all set."
I wasn't really prepared to have this conversation already, to be honest. I figured I'd talk to Charlotte first, and maybe talk to my lawyer. But I guess you can't plan stuff like this, anyway. There's never a right time for shit to hit the fan.
"All set?" she screeches. "What about my emotional investment, Edward? Ever think of that?"
"The only thing you're emotionally invested in is yourself. You don't just care about other people. You don't even care about your own daughter, for god's sake."
I know I'm crossing a line. But I simply don't care anymore.
"Seriously? Gonna lecture me on being a mother, Edward? Where's your kid, heh?" She crosses her arms in front of her chest, a wicked smile on her face. Sure, she can take a blade and wedge it right into my heart.
"If you're wondering if I have regrets?" I start, staring her down. "I don't. I can't imagine having a child with you and having to see you for the eighteen years after that. I wouldn't have gotten you pregnant even if you begged me for it. You're not fit to be a mother, you're the worst kind I've ever seen." I'm not done. Two can take a blade, Renée. "Your kid, your fucking flesh and blood is in need and you charge her rent, treating her like utter dirt and then what, Renée?" I try.
She has no idea about Bella and me. None. I can tell from the way she glares at me, her eyes spitting fire and rage. "You're just gonna shove her out the door when she no longers meets your expectations? Gonna let the poor thing roam the streets, sleeping where? In her car?"
Renée looks taken aback. Then she stares at the driveway that leads to the garage a bit further down, behind the house, glances back at me. My heart beats faster than anything, and I almost let out a breath of pure relief when I remember Bella's at work with my sister. And the only car parked in front of the garage door is my own and my sister's.
"She wouldn't stoop that low. She'd probably crawl to one of her boyfriends, sleep her way up until she's comfortable."
That just makes me insane with anger. She's acting as if Bella is anything like her. It disgusts me.
"God, you're such a fucking wh—"
"Whore?" Renée asks overly sweetly. "I guess that makes you, what? Dumb? Since you so eagerly accepted my proposal, gave up the house you were living in, your filthy mutt sent to live here at your mother's, left your unstable, sad, little sister and you're annoying ass mother. You gave it all up for me, Edward. And now?" she grins like the devil herself. "Now, you're gonna lose every fucking thing you had left."
I can't help myself.
"What, you're gonna help Mike steal my business? Like the way you've been trying to do for all these months?"
Terror strikes her plastic face.
"What? Did you think I wasn't going to figure it out, sweetheart?"
"I do—"
"You said I was dumb, which would make you, what? Since I figured it all out…"
I can't believe this woman. She just stands here on my mother's doorstep acting like there's nothing wrong. Acting like she didn't just try to wreck my business and screw my best friend. Sure, she took Mike from me. But I'd rather have no friends at all than having one like him. Now, I at least know who he really is.
"Get out of here. I'll get my stuff out of the house tomorrow. And you better not be there."
I throw the door closed, my heart racing, palms sweaty. I feel a little light-headed, leaning against the closed door. Letting out a deep breath, I try to focus on getting my nerves and anger under control.
"Hey," Mom shows up, a fleece blanket thrown over her shoulders as she hands me a mug of hot chocolate. "You okay, honey?" Her green eyes are kind and comforting, yet worried.
"I will be." Mom squeezes my arm, as if to say, "I know."
My phone beeps a little later, when I've joined my mother and Mitch on the couch.
Mike is here.
It's like my baby sister knows exactly what I need. And when I need it. Something to channel my anger.
"I'm going out for a bit," I say, getting up.
"Edward?" Mom asks worried, looking down at my phone screen, and seeing Rosalie's text. Mitch just gapes at the television, laughing at the talking animals on the screen.
"Don't worry, Mom. I'll be fine."
"Don't you do anything you'll regret…" she whispers.
"I never will again."
