Edward

"What are you talking about?" Wide blue eyes stare into my own. I almost can't hear her over the speakers. "Can he really just do that?"

"He did do it, Tan," I say. "Besides, it's Carlisle Cullen's Last Will and Testament. Who the fuck wants to argue with that?" I down my glass of Krug, barely feeling the effects calm me. Besides the warmth spreading through my system, it doesn't even calm me. My heart is racing, palms sweaty.

"It's rude, Edward," she says, shaking her head, soft curls of ginger and blonde swaying against angular features. "You love your job."

"And now I'll have a new one." I shrug, the entire afternoon a burden stacked on my shoulders.

"You never wanted it. How the hell are you going to do that? You work from home more often than not. You don't even like the office."

Another shrug.

"Do you even need the money?" she presses, her eyes gliding over the crowd, lingering on our bottle girl. When both their gazes meet, I feel like I'm fifth wheeling. They might as well be hooking up right next to me, fucking each other with their eyes.

"Tan."

"Mhm?" She looks at me again, eyes fluttering off to the girl every now and then.

"You're here with me, remember?"

Tanya leans back in the booth, arms stretched over the back of the velvet bench. She rolls her eyes dramatically, one leg over the other, her skirt inching up her thigh. And it already didn't have much coverage to begin with.

"Gee, Edward…you need to get laid."

I arch my brow, dunking another few inches of champagne into my glass.

"I don't."

"How long has it been, then? I can't even remember the last time you went rogue."

Five years and counting.

"I don't feel like it, Tan. I've got bigger fish to fry."

"You need to relax. It's been five years, Edward. Five years since Irina. It's time to let go, babe."

I blink, the shards in my heart digging deeper.

"You do realize you're talking about your own sister, right?" I get up, down my glass, stare at my best friend. "Show some respect."

I track down the bottle girl, press money in her palm. "That should cover my table."

Her eyes widen at the tip I'm leaving her.

"And this is hers." Two fingers hand her Tanya's card. "You should call her."

I may be angry with Tanya right now, but I know she's lonely. She needs to fill the void with something else besides overtime.

Once outside, I linger and smoke weed in an alley like I'm a fucking teenager. The hard edges get fuzzy, smoke clinging to me like an embrace.

I don't know where to go, even though Mike is still waiting out front. He's probably napping in the car, sleeping off the effects of having a newborn at home. I didn't want to tug him away from his little family at home but I guess this car is another non-negotiable. It's mandatory, a rule from Daddy Dearest. My lungs get so hot I want to scream, letting out this frustration, this anger.

Why is it always me? Why is Edward fucking Cullen himself never good enough? Why the hell do they always have to have add-ons, and these fucking expectations.

I don't want this decked-out town car, the private driver, the executive fucking suite in the Cullen Building. I don't even know if I want this inheritance. Not when they force me to be something I'm not.

I'm Edward fucking Cullen. If it's not good enough for my parents, why should I be good enough for someone else?